Curvy Girls Can't Date Quarterbacks - Kelsie Stelting Page 0,88

“But we also saw the way he looked at you before. He loves you.”

“Loved,” I said. “Past tense. He said so himself.”

“He’s hurt. There’s a difference,” Jordan said. “I should know.”

My heart went out to her. Of the five of us, she probably knew most what I was going through. “Why don’t you try to get your boyfriend back?”

Ginger said it before Jordan was forced to. “He found someone else.”

I covered my mouth. I couldn’t imagine seeing Beckett with someone else. How it would rip me even further apart and destroy whatever bits of my heart were left afterward.

“Don’t let Beckett get away,” Jordan said.

Zara nodded. “Let us help.”

I reached out and touched her arm and then Ginger’s, who also sat next to me. “I appreciate it, guys, I really do, but I think this is something I have to do on my own. No plotting, no scheming, just me. And if that’s not enough for him, it wasn’t meant to be.”

Fifty-Two

I got home late Sunday afternoon feeling refreshed. The night spent at Zara’s was exactly what I’d needed. It was like being reset and settling into the way things should be. I finally had friends—ones I could talk to about real things. I didn’t have to be a wallflower anymore. I could just be... me.

Yeah, I had PCOS, and I’d need to figure out how to manage that, but for now, I had an action plan—my birth control pills and actually partnering with my mom on a diet plan that worked for me.

After greeting Mom and Dad in the living room, I went upstairs and poked my head into Aiden’s room to say hey. He stood in front of his closet, flipping through shirts.

“Hey, sis,” he said, smiling. He picked out two button-up shirts and held them out. “Which one do you think?”

“The blue one,” I answered immediately. “Matches your eyes.”

With a shrug, he hung the brown one back in his closet and slipped the blue shirt off the hanger.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Casey’s mom left her dad, finally, and they’re looking for apartments,” he said, the excitement clear in his voice. “I want to take them out to dinner afterward, to celebrate.”

I smiled, thrilled for Casey and her mom. “That’s amazing!”

“I know,” he said. “It should have happened years ago, but now is better than never.”

“True,” I agreed. “Tell her I’m happy for her.”

He nodded. “I will.”

With a smile, I left his room, then started toward the bathroom. I needed to shower out the salt water from Zara’s hot tub.

“Rory!” Mom called from downstairs.

“Taking a shower!” I yelled back. “Be down in a minute.”

There was a long pause before Mom said, “Take your time!”

As if I needed her encouragement. I went to the bathroom, reached into the medicine cabinet, and took my fifth white birth control pill from the fourth row. I hadn’t started my period yet, but there was still time.

I flipped on the hot water and shimmied out of my clothes before stepping into the steady stream. My mind worked under the water. How could I get Beckett back?

A letter maybe? A painting? A photo?

I could stop by Seaton Bakery when he wasn’t working and leave a message for him. I bet Gayle would help me with that.

Or I could do something really epic and take over Headmaster Bradford’s PA system. But then again, there were only so many times my mom and Mr. Davis could pull a special favor with the headmaster. (It wasn’t an accident my speech was allowed to continue.) And even though I wasn’t going back to my wallflower ways, I was ready to step out of the limelight.

I sighed and rinsed my conditioner. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Beckett saying he loved me. Past tense. And every time I opened my eyes, I wished he could be saying it in the present.

I loved him—the way he protected others. How he had a tender artist’s soul paired with a powerful quarterback’s body. He saw things most people didn’t. Especially things in me.

The photo album he’d given me was the most thoughtful gift I had ever received. He helped me see myself, not just as he did, but as I wished I could. I could be beautiful, majestic, mesmerizing, not in spite of my curves, but because of them.

I hoped and hoped for a plan, but if all else failed, I would approach him on Monday and beg his forgiveness. Tell him I would do anything—everything—to earn back his