Curvy Girls Can't Date Bad Boys - Kelsie Stelting Page 0,13

seemed farther and farther away with each day that passed.

I didn't know how, but I wanted to get her back. I finished wiping my eyes and took a few deep breaths of the purified air.

Shaking my head, I left the bathroom and joined Dad and Ryde, who were busy in a conversation about a new movie and what genres they expected to be popular in the coming years. Ryde was banking for a continuation of the trend toward remakes, with while my dad expected high concept films like Avatar would make a resurgence.

“Sorry,” I said, “had something in my eye.”

Ryde examined me for a moment, but my dad simply nodded. “So, you're motivated by adversity.” He smiled like he was proud. “You are a Bhatta for sure.”

Whatever being a Bhatta meant. I wasn’t so sure anymore. I took a drink from my latte, which had cooled considerably since we came into the café. The flavor was so comforting, and I drank deeply.

“And what about romantically?” Dad asked.

I nearly choked over my latte while Ryde asked calmly, “What do you mean?”

“Well, it seems like a lot of teens’ lives are dominated by relationships with the opposite sex, even though they don’t want to get married. What is the intrigue there? Why is it so important?”

Both Ryde and I were silent, but for different reasons. Wasn’t Dad just asking what I’d tried so hard to communicate to him the day before? But here he was with a notepad, ready to write down whatever Ryde said.

Before he could speak, I cut in. “Almost all of my friends have boyfriends. They are funny, they enjoy time together, they share secrets that no one else knows or understands. It's almost like an exclusive club of two, that no one can get into, and once you're in, you're in. You want to explore and discover and learn and enjoy as much as you possibly can, because everyone's always reminding you how ephemeral it is, even though it feels like it will last forever.”

Dad scribbled onto his legal pad, writing quickly. He was so clearly unfazed, it cut me to the core. This was all an assignment to him. All about signing the next big deal, making more money for the bank account.

“In the male perspective?” Dad looked up at Ryde with an analytical eye, but I also saw something else in his expression. The same face he made when he was testing someone. Was he evaluating Ryde for me? The thought soothed the jagged edges of my heart. Maybe Dad wasn't only invested in furthering his business like I had thought, because the way he looked at Ryde made me think he cared about his answer for more than the business.

Was Dad doing these lessons to help me get to know Ryde? In a weird way, it was kind of sweet, even if it was misguided.

Ryde cleared his throat, and I did my best to listen. “When you first become a teenager, it's about all the feelings you have in your body. They're all new, and they're pushing you to do things you've never done before. But soon you realize that physicality isn’t enough. You want the closeness to go with it. You want to know the other person in a way no one else does.” He reached out to hold my hand, and I found myself not pulling away as I usually would.

Dad's lips formed a smile as he continued drafting on his legal pad. From the surface of the coffee table between us, his phone went off. Lifting it, he said, “That's our time. Zara needs to leave for school, and we need to get to the shoot.”

Ryde nodded. “I'll see you there.”

Dad stood, taking a final drink from his chai latte. “Have a great day at school, Zara.”

“I will,” I promised.

Dad exited the coffee shop, leaving me and Ryde standing awkwardly together.

Turning toward me, Ryde looked at me openly with wide green eyes. “It was nice to see you this morning. I always love seeing you first thing.”

One of the dormant butterflies in my stomach lifted a tired wing.

“I'll see you tomorrow night?” Ryde confirmed. “It’s red carpet.”

“I'll be at my house, ready to go.”

He left first, and I waited until his Lamborghini had pulled away to exit myself. As I stepped into the fresh spring air, I heard the rumbling of a motorcycle, and my eyes found the source. A black bike pulled up to the café. He got off and lifted