Curvy Girls Can't Date Quarterbacks - Kelsie Stelting Page 0,22
locked myself in the shower room. (I’d been right; it was bigger than my entire bedroom.) My fingers ached for a paintbrush to capture all the feelings of this moment, all the hard lines of the modern house and the blurred lines of my emotions.
Once I had my suit on, I tugged up on the boy shorts and down on the tankini top so my belly wouldn’t show and then looked in the mirror. What was I playing at? Beckett Langley and me? The girls better come up with an amazing plan. Like plastic surgery. Or blindfolds.
I sighed and walked into the room where the other girls were all in their suits except for Callie, who wore shorts and a T-shirt.
“Are you not swimming?” I asked her.
“Just dipping my toes in,” she answered and then hurriedly added, “are we ready to go outside?”
Zara stood from where she lounged on the bed. “Sure. Let’s head out to the patio.”
The hallway tile was cool and smooth under my feet as we paraded toward the back of the house. The back wall was made of glass and gave an amazing view of the valley below us and even the blue expanse of the ocean in the distance.
Forget my feelings. I could sit out here and paint this all day, the way the colors went from sharp to fuzzy, the intricate lines of the horizon.
Zara slid open the glass door, and we followed her out onto the stone patio toward a hot tub connected to an infinity pool.
Zara lived the height of luxury. Why wasn’t she hanging out with movie stars instead of four misfits like us?
She dipped her toes into the hot water, and we followed suit. Eventually my body was enveloped by the warm salty water. Steam rose from the surface, swirling around my face and bringing moisture to my skin.
Callie’s head swiveled, taking it all in. “This is amazing, Zara. Thanks for having us.”
“Yeah,” Ginger said. “I feel famous.”
“Same,” Jordan said.
Zara shook her head. “It’s my dad’s, not mine. Now let’s get down to business.”
We covered everything we knew about Beckett and me. It all seemed sort of hopeless as I realized Beckett and I had nothing in common—other than an affinity for cupcakes, but that was for completely separate reasons. How could we conjure a relationship out of thin air?
“I’m not sure, guys,” I admitted. “It’s not like I can just show up at the bakery every Tuesday. That would be so obvious and probably backfire.” I had to look away as I said the next part. “Maybe we should just throw in the towel.”
My eyes stung, and I was thankful for the water to hide the moisture. I liked Beckett. He was kind to me, he seemed down to earth, and he was artistic to top it off. Trying to get him interested and failing would just be more proof that Merritt was right. That I didn’t deserve a happily ever after.
“No way,” Ginger said, adamant. She pushed back a wet curl from her neck and said, “He just needs to see you. Like really see you. You’re amazing.”
“Exactly,” Jordan said. “You’re kind and smart and you have a gorgeous smile.”
I couldn’t help but bring my fingers to my lips. “You mean it?”
She nodded.
“But what about all this?” I asked, gesturing to myself. “I weigh twice what Merritt does. Fat doesn’t seem to be Beckett’s type.”
Zara crossed the water and stood in front of me. “Who told you that you deserve less because of your size? That you couldn’t be desirable or hot?”
My brows came together as I sat under the spotlight of her words. “Um, everyone ever?”
“Did you ever question it?” she asked.
I thought about her question, I did, but it only took a few seconds to know I hadn’t. I’d grown up watching my mom do workouts with a personal trainer. Seeing my dad rise in the morning to go on runs and eventually having my brother do the same. And as I became more interested in art, their bodies became more fit, more different from mine. And the more different they became, the more my mom tried to fix me. I hated not being good enough for her, hated being too different.
That still paled to the friends I lost after going through puberty in seventh grade. Where the other girls gained curves and cute little pimples, I’d gotten rolls and pizza face. Pretty soon, it was easier to stay in and avoid selfies that would show