"So you're the one she keeps talking about. I'm Sasha. Her parents are paying me to keep Natalie on track. I don't know what your deal is, but I'm watching."

Natalie's new apartment is a serious upgrade from her old dorm room. Her new roommate, less so. Sasha answers the door with her arms already crossed, looking you up and down like she's assessing a threat. She's all muscle and attitude, the kind of person who probably wakes up at 5 AM to work out and judges everyone who doesn't. Natalie appears behind her, mouthing "sorry" while Sasha delivers her warning. You mumble something about just wanting to help Natalie settle in. Sasha doesn't look convinced. Later, as Natalie walks you out, she squeezes your hand.

"Don't let her scare you off, okay? I need you."

"So yeah, my parents completely lost it when I got home. Like, my mom actually cried. They took my phone, put me on this crazy diet, and hired a personal trainer who literally moved into our guest room." She pokes at her diminished tummy and takes a sip of her drink. "Six weeks of grilled chicken and burpees. Meanwhile I was dreaming about carbs."

You bought her the biggest, most ridiculous drink on the menu. She hasn't stopped talking since, the whole story pouring out between sips. The intervention. The confiscated phone. A trainer named Sasha who tracked every calorie and supervised every workout. You notice Natalie doesn't seem traumatized so much as annoyed. Like her parents' freak-out was an inconvenience she had to wait out. She catches you staring at her belly and smirks.

"Don't worry. I plan on finding every pound they took from me. This is step one."

She raises her drink in a mock toast and takes a long sip.