Curvy Girls Can't Date Quarterbacks - Kelsie Stelting Page 0,37
make any plans.” My stomach sank. This hadn’t been a one-time thing, had it? “What if he comes to his senses before tomorrow and I never get another chance?”
“Guys don’t just forget that easily,” Carson said. “He wasn’t drunk, was he?”
I shook my head. “We didn’t have any alcohol.”
“See?” Callie said. “It was all him. Carson will get some intel for us tomorrow, okay? Don’t worry.”
That was easier said than done. “I’ll try.”
We promised to meet for lunch the next day and ended the call. It was already late, and we had school the next day. If my mom saw me walking into school like a zombie and risking my weight loss, that would be that. Full-blown distraction-free lockdown.
Zara showed me where the guest room was, and I told her goodnight before setting my things on the bed. My birth control pills tumbled out of my open purse, and I picked up the thin blue sleeve with the pill case poking out. It stared back at me, mocking me. Taking it felt like an admission of failure, like somehow admitting I couldn’t lose the weight and make things better on my own. Never mind that my body had betrayed me without my permission.
I slid the packet out and popped out a white pill from the third row, holding it in my fingers for a moment. The tiny sphere held enough power to change my hormones and start my cycle. My acne was already noticeably better, even though I’d only been on it for such a short time.
I slid the pills back in the case and padded to the bathroom for a shower, trying to think of this almost-kiss instead of the pills, even though the two narratives seemed determined to be at odds. As I sampled the fancy travel-sized shampoos and conditioners in the shower, I thought maybe it wasn’t a one or the other proposition like Merritt made it out to be. Be fat or be desirable.
Could I be both?
Beckett had almost kissed me—me. He’d gotten close, seen the acne my makeup hadn’t been able to hide. Seen the extra fat that hung from my chin and the creases on my neck from the extra pounds, and he’d gotten closer. That had to mean something.
I turned off the shower and dried off, slipping pajamas over the parts of me everyone said I should hide. When I picked up my phone, there was one new chat waiting.
Beckett: Good night, Cupcake.
Twenty-One
Beckett’s absence in the seat in front of me felt palpable.
I glanced at the clock over Mr. Aris’s desk. He still had a couple of minutes.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone enter the room. The farther in he came, the better I could see him—his shaggy hair, the casual way he slung his backpack over one shoulder, his confident swagger. Lord help me.
As he brushed past me, I could smell his cologne, but then, after sliding into his seat, he turned to me, gave me a heart-melting grin, and said, “Good morning, Cupcake.”
If my heart didn’t slow down, I’d have a heart attack before lunch and prove my mom right.
“Good morning,” I breathed.
Mr. Aris called the class to attention, but didn’t he know I couldn’t focus with Beckett Langley talking to me? Calling me a special nickname? With all the butterflies in my stomach, it was a wonder I didn’t take flight right then.
I only made it through math class by copying down everything Mr. Aris said, because otherwise my mind would have run wild with daydreams. After the bell rang, I survived health class under Merritt’s steely glare, and I even endured AP English, but barely.
Finally, I was standing in the lunch line, ready to meet up with the girls and discuss strategy for the football game this Friday. With exactly one month left until the homecoming game, we had some major decisions to make about the night’s activities.
I filled my tray with all the things I couldn’t eat at home under Mom’s diet plan and swiped my lunch card at the end of the line. After grabbing a few napkins, I started away from the lunchroom, only to be stopped by my mother.
She looked at my tray, her lips turning down.
Busted.
“I thought we talked about saving a third of your plate for vegetables,” she said, still staring disappointedly at my food.
“Potatoes are a vegetable, right?”
A couple of students passing by laughed, and one said, “Amen.”
Mom didn’t seem as amused. “You’ve already paid for this.”