Curvy Girls Can’t Date Soldiers by Kelsie Stelting

Nineteen

Nadira

Apolloand I hadn’t been talking long, but I already felt like I knew him better than half the people I went to school with. I looked forward to messaging him every day. I was eager to hear his opinions on things I didn’t let most people have opinions on. I’d never been so excited to check my messages in the morning or smiling so often as I went to bed.

I was pathetic.

By the time this was over, I’d be a distant memory to him while he’d be at the front of my mind, the comparison to every guy I met.

Even Josh. He was kind, but there wasn’t any chemistry there. But how could Josh stand a chance next to Apollo? It wasn’t fair comparison, for either of us.

Part of me wished I’d never talked to Apollo so I could be satisfied with the attention Josh was giving me. But that wasn’t real life. No, real life was thinking about Apollo all day and then running to my computer the second he messaged me that evening.

Apollo: Happy Monday.

Nadira: HAPPY Monday? I thought you were a pessimist.

Apollo: You’re right. Sad Monday.

Nadira: Terrible Monday.

Apollo: Awful Monday.

Nadira: We should just cancel Monday.

Apollo: Yeah. Where can I sign?

Nadira: I’m starting a petition now...

I sent him a link to a petition to cancel Mondays from here on out.

Apollo: Omg you actually did. I’m going to be the first one to sign it.

Nadira: Not if I sign it first.

Nadira: HA!

Apollo: How did you do that so fast?

Nadira: Skills.

Nadira: And good Wi-Fi.

Nadira: But mostly the skills.

Apollo: Okay, so we have two signatures. 999,998 until we can submit it to Congress.

Nadira: That should be easy. Everyone hates Mondays.

Apollo: What should we name not-Monday once we get it cancelled?

Nadira: Sunderday?

Apollo: Satunday?

Nadira: Extra Sunday?

Apollo: Early Tuesday?

Nadira: We’ll find something good.

Apollo: I hope so. Because Mondays stink. I’m pretty sure I failed my philosophy quiz today.

Nadira: Isn’t philosophy literally the study of thinking? How could you fail if you have a brain?

Apollo: So you see my problem.

Nadira: Haha. I bet you got a decent grade.

Apollo: How was school for you?

Nadira: I hate Yearbook.

Apollo: What happened?

Nadira: So there are two girls in the class who are basically queen bees at school. And today we’re deciding on the layout for the senior pages, and they basically want whoever wins royalty at homecoming and prom to get an entire page out of the layout.

Apollo: Which means they’ll be on both pages?

Nadira: Bingo. And of course they’re the editors, so the teacher lets them make the decisions. It just stinks because so many of my classmates are incredible. Like one of my friends won at a national dance competition. The judges literally created a new category for her and her partner because they were so amazing. Why isn’t that going to be front and center? Or another friend got signed to play college sports. Is that not important? I’m pretty sure the Mathletes will go to state this year. Can’t that be a big deal?

Apollo: That’s just the way high school is. I know it might sound crazy, but next year, when you’re at MIT covered in guys and learning about something that will change the world—nay, universe, Miss Aerospace Engineer—you won’t even be looking at your high school yearbook.

Nadira: Maybe, but I can’t see me getting much studying or universe-changing done while “covered in guys.”

Apollo: Multi-tasking is an important skill in any career.

Nadira: I’m rolling my eyes.

Apollo: I’m laughing.

Nadira: I’m signing off.

Apollo: I’m looking forward to talking to you tomorrow.

Nadira: Goodnight. :)

Apollo: Goodnight, beautiful.

I read that last line again. And then I screamed.

Feet thundered up the stairs, and my cheeks heated as I closed my laptop and turned toward the door.

Carver stood there, chest rising and falling, and he said, “You okay?”

“Yeah—yep, never been better.” I couldn’t even hide my grin.

He eyed me skeptically, stepping into the room. “You’re blushing.”

“No I’m not,” I said, looking away. “I’m just, uh... exercising.”

“In your desk chair?” he asked.

“Totally.” I pretended to do an exercise I’d seen Dad do in a chair before, and then toppled over, crashing to the floor. “Well, I’m still mastering it.”

Carver burst out laughing. “You’re a terrible liar, Dira.”

I glared at him, pushing myself off the floor.

“Does this have anything to do with that skinny kid you were with at the game?” he asked.

“Rat,” I muttered.

“It does!” He clapped his hands together, then covered his mouth. “We were starting to wonder if you had something going on with Des, and then—”

I glared at him. “So what if I was gay? Would that be a bad thing?”

His eyes widened. “No, totally, it’s fine if you are. I mean. Wow. Are you... gay?”

I rolled my eyes. “Pull your foot out of your mouth. I’m straight.”

“So this boy...” he began.

“Goodbye, Carver,” I said, walking him to the door.

“Is he a good kisser?”

“Goodbye,” I repeated and shut the door behind him, hearing him laugh all the way down the stairs.

* * *

“He said WHAT?” Des asked at lunch.

I’d waited until all my friends were together, including Cori and Adriel’s boyfriends so I could get the male perspective too.

“He said, ‘Goodnight, beautiful’!” I cried, so ridiculously happy.

Carter frowned. “But he doesn’t have a real picture of you.”

Des nodded. “Because she’s too chicken.”

I glared at her.

Faith said, “You have to send him a real photo. I’m sure you can say you grabbed the wrong one from your computer or something.”

“Yeah, that’ll work great,” I said. “It’ll be kind of like ordering a swimsuit off the internet to find out it’s only big enough to cover one boob instead of two.”

Ryker’s eyes widened. “That happens?”

“Don’t be so excited,” Cori said. “And that’s beside the point. You guys are emailing. It’s not like he’s been seeing the wrong person every single day.”

I frowned down at my untouched tray of food. “That’s not the biggest problem. You know the guy who asked for my number Friday?”

They nodded.

“That’s Apollo’s roommate.”

“What!” Des cried, then covered her mouth, realizing how many people were now staring our direction. “You didn’t tell me that!” she hissed.

“I found out Saturday, and I’m so mortified I didn’t even know how to process it.”

Adriel shook her head slowly. “Oh, what a tangled web we weave...”

Des finished, “When first we lie to our super-hot internet pen pals.”

Ryker snorted, but I shook my head, asking, “What does it mean? That he said goodnight beautiful?”

Cori and Ryker smiled at each other, then Cori turned to me and said, “That he likes you.”

Ryker smirked. “You mean, Tatiana.”

Cori hit him.

Leaning forward, Carter put his elbows on the table and said, “You have to tell him, Dir. You’re what? A week? Two weeks into this thing? You’re not in too deep to tell him you got nervous. If he’s a good guy, he’ll understand.”

“And if he’s not?” I asked. “What if he stops emailing me and ruins my mom’s research project?”

Faith gave me a look. “Your mom’s smart. I’m sure she assumed some people would drop out.”

I sighed. “I don’t know.”

The bell rang, and Des said, “You do know. It’s just hard to admit we’re right.”

With that, we stood from the table and I walked my untouched plate of food to the trash. What a mess.