She’s infuriating, and fuck, I want more. Who has made her feel differently about herself? Is it truly all in her head? Because I know her family. They are like us; you love yourself because you’re a badass. They wouldn’t judge her, only love her and…
Wait. Is that why she hasn’t spoken to her mom on FaceTime or seen her?
What in the ever-loving hell is going on with that girl? Did she have a crappy boyfriend? Or a friend who made her feel like she is less than perfect? Don’t get me wrong; I’m not naïve to the fact that the world holds women to a different standard and forces them to think they need to be a size that is acceptable to them, but I was raised by Elli Adler. She’s always been thicker than other moms, but no matter what, everyone knew she was a force to be reckoned with. Everyone knew my mom was more than her size. Even my sister Posey is on the thicker side, and depending on the week, Shelli can be too. I see nothing wrong with this. Our bodies change to adapt.
Hell, if I don’t take a good shit every day, I look pregnant. I don’t care, because at the end of the day, my body is eventually going to be old and rotten. I refuse to regret anything. As long as I’m able to do my job and stay healthy, then my weight will level out. Why is it that I, a twenty-year-old dude, can realize this, but not a twenty-one-year-old female who has the power to bring me to my knees?
Why am I sitting here pissed off because a girl I like doesn’t see her worth?
Damn it.
I eat angrily until the bartender comes over, and then he points to Angie’s plate. “Did she leave?” I nod, not wanting to answer him. He grimaces. “Sorry, dude.”
I scoff. “Not because of me but because of the judgmental bitches behind us.”
He makes a face, looking past me, and I hope they heard me. It may be rude and I’m being petty, but I can’t shake this anger. “Yeah, they’re only in here to find a sugar daddy.”
“And see, I came for company, found her, and it got ruined.”
“Sorry, dude,” he says once more, cleaning her place. “She comes in once a week if you want to try to catch her.”
“I actually grew up with her and she works where I do, so I’ll catch her.”
He salutes me. “Good luck, dude.”
“Thanks,” I say, polishing off my food and chasing it with a drink. I throw my card down and lean back. The bartender cleans up my area and then takes my card before I pull out my phone to text Evan.
Me: Dude, Paxy is on a whole different level.
Before he can text me back, someone comes up beside me. I look over to find the girl who talked to Angie before. She must be a brave one, because even with my hat low, I’m not the most approachable dude right now.
“Hi,” she says sweetly. “My name is Rian, and I just wanted to introduce myself.”
“Why?” I ask bluntly.
She’s visibly taken aback. “Um, so we can get to know each other?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I know for a fact that you saw me with that girl before she left.”
“Yeah, but she said you two were just friends.”
“She may think that, but I think it’s more.”
Her brows come together. “Oh.”
I lean in, my eyes holding her blue ones. “Yeah, I like girls like her because they’re not judgmental assholes who make comments about someone’s size when it’s none of their goddamn business.”
She struggles to find words as I sign the receipt the bartender brought back, leaving him a good tip. Finally, she says, “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I just didn’t think you were a chubby chaser.”
I scoff loudly and so obnoxiously, my mom would have slapped me upside the head. “I’m a soul chaser. A girl’s body is maybe ten percent of my concern. Do I like to be attracted to someone? Yup, but when they open their mouths and show that they’re assholes, I’m good.”
With that, I nod to the bartender and head out of the pub just as my phone rings. It’s Evan.
“What do you mean? What happened?”
I shake my head and let out a long breath. I tell him the whole story, even the last part with the females I don’t know from Adam. Gone is my anger, and it’s been replaced not by sadness but disappointment. Angie wasn’t insecure when we were younger. Yes, she was skinnier, but she wasn’t built like the girls we hung out with. She was taller than everyone else. She always had wide hips, wide shoulders, and not thick thighs but super-muscular ones. Always. To me, she looks way better now than she did before. She’s actually filled out with curves that I never want to quit. Her face is fuller, rather than all narrow and sunken-in. I love her glasses and the bangs she has now.
How does she not look in the mirror and see what I see?
“Just like you said, she’s got body image issues.”
“Not good,” Evan says.
“Nope, but it doesn’t matter. She hasn’t seen the last of me.”
He groans. “Should I call and warn her?”
“No, don’t you dare.”
“Okay, but tread lightly. I don’t know why she feels like she isn’t beautiful anymore, but you can’t forget she did almost get raped. Or attacked—I don’t remember the details, only that it’s the main reason she left Nashville. To start over.”
I pause. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Oh. You didn’t know that.”
“I did not.”
“Well, that’s not good. I didn’t tell you that.”
“But you did. Spill it, brother.”
“I don’t know the details, only that some dude Ally was messing with assaulted Paxy or something, and then Asher went after him.”
“Fucking hell,” I say since I really didn’t know any of this. “Do you think that’s why she doesn’t like who she is?”
“I mean, it could add into it. You’re gonna have to talk to her.”
I make a face. “Yeah, ’cause that’s gonna be easy.”
Evan laughs. “I never once said it was going to be easy, but then Angie once told me, ‘The best things in life are never easy.’”
I lick my lips, still tasting her, and soon, I’m not even trying to fight back a grin. I’ve never heard a truer statement, and I grew up hearing things along the lines of “The bigger the hair, the closer to Jesus.” So believe me when I say I know good sayings. I also know a good girl when I see her. I wouldn’t have given the girls behind us the time of day. I knew from the jump they weren’t the kinds of girls I would vibe with.
Even though she wouldn’t speak to me much, Angie and I had always liked the same things. When we’d sit up in the Assassins owners’ suite, we always had nachos with cheese, popcorn, jalapeños, and salsa. She saw me do it and copied me. Though, we never acknowledged it. We also loved a great wrister. She had a sick one, and mine has all the sauce on it. I mean, shit, we vibe. We always have. I get that she ignored me and maybe even hated me, but it’s cool; we’ve grown. Angie has always been a good girl in my eyes. A stunning girl. And I’ve decided it’s my goal to make her see that.
Since I couldn’t help my brother, maybe I can help her.
And my reward will be to enjoy that body that makes me weak in the knees.