#[ fjd 001 ]

[forrest-dunn]

I roll the dumbbell back onto the rack, my forearm flexing in the mirror as sweat drips down my temple. Perfect. Body tight. Skin glowing. I know my family thinks I’m shallow, but what else is there? Appearance is currency, and I’m wealthy as hell. The truth is, when you look this good, people forgive a lot. Even things you don’t ask forgiveness for.

My phone buzzes on the bench. My cousin. Justin. I hesitate before grabbing it. I know I asked him to call, but now I anticipate a lecture, rather than a bragging session.

“I slept with my therapist.” I started with, wanting to rip the bandaid off. 

“Jesus, Forrest.” Justin exhales hard at the greeting, as though he’s trying not to laugh or scream. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“Why not? She’s hot. We clicked. It wasn’t a big deal.”

The sound of frustration from the other end makes me want to hang up. “Forrest, you’ve gotta stop with this crap. It’s like you’re on this self-destruct mission, and you don’t even care.”

“I’m fine,” I snap. “Business is killing it, I’ve got the app launch coming up, and Anissa is visiting this weekend. Life’s good.”

“You think this is good? Sleeping with your therapist? Hooking up with different girls every weekend? Bro, you’re spiraling. You’ve been spiraling since Carson.”

The name hits like a punch. My jaw tightens. “Don’t go there, Justin.”

“Why not? It’s the truth. You’re not fine. You’ve never been fine, not since…” He pauses, probably realizing I’m not in the mood to hear it. “Look, you can’t keep running from this, Forrest. At some point, you’ve gotta deal with your crap. Or it’s gonna catch up to you.”

“Thanks for the pep talk, Coach.” I end the call and toss my phone aside.

The gym is quieter now, only filled with the sound of weights clinking and my breath steadying. I glance at the mirror again. My reflection stares back, perfect as always. But something about it feels off.

Shaking the thought, I grab my phone and text Anissa: Still on for this weekend?

Because that’s what I need. Distraction. Not Justin’s lectures or his amateur therapy sessions. Just something simple, uncomplicated. Someone who doesn’t expect anything from me.

The phone buzzes with her reply: Can’t wait.

Neither can I.