Curvy Girls Can't Date Bad Boys - Kelsie Stelting Page 0,1

muscular arm up to the face, and my mouth fell open. I’d seen him once before. He’d delivered food for movie night at my friend’s house. The delivery boy with the motorcycle and the intense gaze.

I followed said gaze past the counter. The barista gave him a disgusted look and turned away to whisper with her coworker. My gut gave a visceral reaction to the slight. What right did they have to judge him?

I stood and took the receipt and money to the counter. I could have easily left the bill on the table, but I wanted a chance to see the barista’s overly done face.

Keeping my eyes straight ahead—and off of the delivery boy—I set the receipt and money on the counter a little harder than I needed to.

The barista who had been so rude to him set down a canister of beans and smiled pleasantly at me. “Let me get you checked out.”

Each courteous word and action she extended my way just irked me more. So she could only be polite to people with money?

She took the receipt and rang up our meals. “Would you like the change?”

All seventy dollars of it? “No.” Her eyes lit up for a moment until I said, “Pay off the next few tickets with it.” No way was I giving her a tip and rewarding her profiling.

With a disappointed look, she began tapping on the screen. I watched, making sure she didn’t just pocket it for herself. When all the money had gone in the cash drawer, I lowered my voice so the tattooed guy couldn’t hear and said, “And next time, why don’t you save your judgement for yourself.”

“Excuse me?” she said.

I turned my gaze toward him, then back to her, then walked outside.

Brisk spring air greeted me, and I already felt better away from the rich stuffiness of the shop. I breathed in the breeze before continuing to my car.

“You know,” a voice said from behind me, “I can fight my own battles.”

I jumped, not having heard the shop door open. Turning to the sound of the voice revealed an amused expression on the guy from the café. He wore all black, and his dark hair fell over his forehead. Each muscle on his wiry arms rippled as he shrugged on his leather jacket and folded his arms across his chest. His brown eyes had a glint in them that confused and intrigued me all at the same time.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, finding my voice.

His full, pink lips curled into a smile. “I’ll see you around, Zara.”

How he knew or remembered my name, I had no idea. All I knew as I watched him race away on his motorcycle was that I wanted to hear him say it again.

Two

I got in my car and drove to school. I was actually ready to be back and see my friends again after spring break. High school was never something I thought I’d cling to, but knowing my freedom was gone as of graduation day made me see things from a new perspective. I might not have been the homecoming queen or the valedictorian or outstanding at anything, but I still deserved to enjoy high school. Who said you had to be perfect to have a good time? To be free?

An image came to mind of the delivery guy driving away on his motorcycle, open leather jacket billowing around his waist. Where was he going? He looked to be my age—did he have school? Had he dropped out? Was he in college? Was delivery work his only job? What did the tattoos up and down his arms mean? Or were they just another form of the rebellion I saw in his eyes?

I tried to clear my thoughts of him as I pulled into my parking spot near the school entrance. Dad had paid for the second-best spot. The only person to outbid him had been Kai Rush’s father, an actual billionaire.

I picked up my Gucci backpack—the only part of my attire that wasn’t restricted to Emerson Academy’s bland uniform—and started inside.

A pair of freshmen crossed in front of me, holding hands. When had freshmen started looking so young? And since when was I jealous of them?

Jealousy wasn’t an emotion I liked, and the overwhelming sense of it flooding my body just frayed my nerves. I had to get a grip on myself. My emotions were the one thing I had control over, and I didn’t want to lose