Craving Curves

Lena

Chapter One – Lena

The scent of cinnamon and freshly baked bread lingered in the air, mixing with the low hum of conversation from the early customers. I wiped my hands on my apron and glanced at the clock. Almost time.

He’s late.

Not that I was surprised. Jace Carter was always late.

I tried to focus on frosting cupcakes, but the nerves in my stomach wouldn’t settle. I hated how easily he could do this to me—even after all these years. We’d been friends for as long as I could remember. Through school, through my dream of owning this bakery, through his rise as a fitness influencer and personal trainer.

We were close. Best friends.

But never that close.

Because there was always this thing between us. Unspoken. Heavy.

He probably didn’t think about it the way I did. How sometimes his fingers would linger a little longer when he handed me something. How he always looked at me like he was about to say something important—but never did.

Or maybe I was just imagining it.

I wasn’t exactly the type of girl guys like Jace went for. I wasn’t slim or toned. My body had curves—soft, round, and very noticeable. Jace could have anyone he wanted. He had had plenty of women, if the rumors about his gym hookups were anything to go by.

And I? I wasn’t about to risk our friendship by wanting something more.

The door chimed.

My breath caught before I could stop it.

"Yo, Lena!"

There he was.

Jace strolled in like he owned the place, a gym bag slung over his shoulder, hair damp from a workout. His fitted black tee clung to his chest and arms, and his joggers hung low on his hips.

Unfair.

"You’re late," I said, keeping my tone light, though my pulse was anything but.

He grinned, flashing those dimples that could ruin a woman’s life. "Come on, only five minutes. I had to finish a session."

"With who this time?" I teased, raising a brow.

He leaned against the counter, close enough that I could smell his cologne—clean and a little spicy.

"Jealous?" he smirked.

My stomach flipped. Typical Jace.

"Of your gym rats? Hardly."

His grin faltered, just for a second.

I turned away, pretending to fuss with a tray of cookies. My heart pounded.

"Anyway," I continued, "you came for your usual?"

"Obviously. Best pastries in town."

"And you say that every time after lecturing me about carbs."

Jace laughed, the sound deep and warm. "Hey, I never said carbs were bad. I said moderation. Plus, I’d never say no to your baking."

I glanced at him, and for a second, our eyes met. His smile softened, something flickering there—something that made it hard to breathe.

"I missed this," he said quietly.

"This?" I echoed.

"You. Us. Just hanging out."

I froze.

We did this all the time—hung out, joked, talked. But sometimes, like now, his voice would drop, his gaze would linger, and it felt like there was more.

I forced a smile. "Well, you know where to find me."

"Yeah," he murmured, still watching me. "I always do."

The words hung between us, heavier than they should have been.

"Anyway," he said, clearing his throat and stepping back, "you coming to the gym later? You promised you'd try that new class."

My face warmed. "I don’t know—"

"Come on, Lena. For me?"

His smile was back—easy, teasing. But his eyes? His eyes were serious.

I looked away, pretending to tidy up.

"Fine. But only because you asked so nicely."

He grinned, grabbing his bag. "That’s my girl. See you at seven?"

"Seven," I repeated, watching him leave.

As the door shut behind him, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

That’s my girl.

He didn’t mean anything by it. He never did.

But it didn’t stop my heart from hoping.

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