"Wow... it’s... beautiful," he managed to say in a lie, his voice quieter than intended, tinged with sothing he didn’t quite recognize.
"Really... really beautiful."
Carrie bead at his words, completely unaware of the turmoil she had sparked.
"Thanks! I wanted it to be special, you know? A little reminder of him," she said, lightly tracing the letter with her fingertip.
Zack nodded, but his smile was tight, masking the storm inside.
He tried to shake off the sudden surge of jealousy and self-consciousness, telling himself it was irrational—she was happy, and that was what mattered.
But as Carrie continued to chat, laughing and moving with effortless confidence, he felt an invisible distance grow between them.
The little tattoo wasn’t just ink on her skin—it was a symbol of a life he wasn’t part of, a connection he couldn’t claim.
He forced a laugh at sothing she said, trying to rejoin the easy rhythm of their conversation, but his mind kept returning to her wrist, to the letter R, and to the way her eyes had lit up as she thought of him.
For Zack, it was a mont of clarity and pain: Carrie had changed, and sohow, so had his heart.
***
Later that night, Zack rounded up a few of his teammates and they ended up at a small hotel pool, bottles in hand and laughter echoing across the water.
The night air was warm, the surface of the pool reflecting neon lights, and the sll of booze grew stronger as the hours passed.
"What’s the occasion, superstar? Is it your birthday or sothing?" one of them asked with a grin, sloshing beer onto his own shoes.
"Nope," Zack muttered, already chugging from another bottle. "Just felt like it’s been too damn long since I’ve been drunk. I miss the feeling."
His teammates cheered and joined him, but the longer the night went on, the heavier Zack’s mood beca.
He laughed when they laughed, drank when they drank, but deep down, sothing ate at him.
Eventually, one by one, the others passed out—sprawled along the deck chairs or even on the tiles near the pool, too drunk to care about the chill of the night.
Zack himself wasn’t much better, slumped on his side, mumbling incoherently.
That was when Nina arrived. She sighed as she took in the scene—half-naked athletes scattered everywhere, empty bottles rolling on the ground, and her boyfriend barely able to sit up straight.
She crouched down beside him, brushing his damp hair back from his forehead.
"Zack, honestly..." she muttered, trying not to sound too frustrated.
With so effort, she pulled his arm around her shoulders and helped him stumble toward his room.
Once inside, she laid him down on the bed, her chest rising and falling from the strain of dragging his heavy body.
He groaned, head rolling to the side, but didn’t open his eyes.
"Of course you’d leave to do all the work," she whispered, half-exasperated, half-amused.
She slipped off his shoes, set them neatly by the door, then unbuttoned his shirt.
She’d seen him shirtless plenty of tis, but the way the lamplight traced over his sculpted chest and abs made her pause.
He was every bit the athlete—strong, confident, admired by everyone around him.
Her hands moved automatically as she tugged off his jeans, and then, hesitantly, she reached for his boxers.
Part of her was simply being practical—changing him into sothing comfortable for sleep—but another part of her felt curiosity burning at the edges of her mind.
When she finally pulled the waistband down, she froze.
Her eyes widened in shock.
It wasn’t what she had expected. Not at all.
For so long, she had built an image in her head—Zack, the perfect boyfriend. Zack, the athlete with the perfect body. Zack, who must have the kind of manhood that matched the rest of him.
But the reality was... different.
Biting her lip, she reached out with tentative fingers, gently wrapping her hand around him. The size surprised her again. He was soft, small.
Out of instinct, she began to stroke him, coaxing him to hardness.
Slowly, he responded, his breathing shifting, his body twitching faintly under her touch.
When he finally stood erect in her hand, she stared. Five and a half inches. Thin. Ordinary.
"This... this is it?" she whispered under her breath, her brows furrowing.
For a long ti, she just looked at it, as though her eyes were playing tricks on her.
She had watched porn, seen exaggerated sizes that had warped her expectations—but still, she had imagined more from Zack.
So much more.
Is this why he’s been avoiding intimacy with ? The thought hit her hard, settling like a weight in her chest. Is he ashad? Is he scared I’ll laugh?
Her emotions tangled—confusion, disappointnt, even pity.
But at the sa ti, she couldn’t help but feel a strange tenderness as she stared down at him.
He looked so vulnerable in this state, asleep and completely unaware, his body exposed to her judgnt.
"He’s handso, strong, admired by everyone... and yet..." Nina whispered, shaking her head. "So this is what you’ve been hiding from ."
Her hand lingered for a mont longer before she slowly let go.
She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at him, her thoughts spiraling.
This discovery didn’t erase her affection for him, but it cracked the image she had carefully built in her mind.
The man she thought was flawless suddenly seed... human.
And Nina didn’t know how to feel about that.
She looked at Zack’s humble cock for a minute longer, her brows furrowing as conflicting thoughts swirled through her head.
Finally, she pulled the blanket up, covering his body, and stepped back.
For a brief mont she lingered, staring at the man she was supposed to love, the one everyone envied her for dating.
He looked so peaceful in his drunken sleep, his handso face and athletic build making him appear every bit the dream boyfriend.
And yet... sothing gnawed at her heart.
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