Curvy Girls Can’t Date Soldiers by Kelsie Stelting

Fifty-One

Nadira

Mom gaveTerrell and Carver money so they could get us snacks before going off to talk to their friends in the college. We walked together up the bleachers to the family seating section, finding seats near the front.

She glanced around the gym, checking the student section. “Is he here?”

Knowing who she meant, I followed her gaze, hoping to see Apollo with his mom. She hadn’t told me if my words had gotten through to her, only thanked me for my concern and hung up with a “bless your heart.” It was so southern it hurt.

But even if she was here, there was no guarantee they’d spend their time at the basketball game. Maybe they were playing bingo with Aunt Tilly or checking out the place where ROTC students learned and trained.

Still, the gym was packed for Parents’ Weekend. There were thousands of faces to sift through. “I don’t see him,” I said, trying to hide the weird mix of disappointment and relief that flooded my body.

She put an arm around me. “Well, now that I know you’re into college boys, maybe Dad can introduce you to someone on the team.”

I rolled my eyes. “Dad would never introduce me to one of his players like that.”

“True.” She winked. “Wouldn’t want you distracting them before the playoffs.”

I shook my head, glancing back to see if Terrell and Carver were heading our way yet. I could really use some food right now. Stress-eating was calling my name.

Of course, my brothers were still nowhere to be found. They’d probably been intercepted by some of their friends or gotten sidetracked by a pretty girl.

I looked back at the court to see the teams finishing their warmup. The announcer came on, talking about family weekend and asking the parents of all the players to stand up to be honored. We clapped loudly for those who stood all around us.

They were so proud of their children—I could see it on their faces, in the way their shoulders straightened and their smiles lifted. I wondered if someday my brothers would be getting the same treatment playing college ball. If my parents would have a chance to celebrate me like that too.

The game started, and the familiar sounds of basketball enveloped us. Sneakers squeaked on the floor, blending with referee whistles, cheers, and the jolt of buzzers.

Next to me, Carver’s voice jerked me out of the game. “Hey, I got you something.”

I turned toward him, expecting to see a tray of nachos, but found something completely different.

Apollo stood behind him, and a woman who had to be his mom followed behind.

My eyes widened, taking him in, but my mouth didn’t move. It was as if his mere presence had captivated me. As though the T-shirt clinging to his muscled arms had wrapped itself around my mouth, blocking any words.

Mom leaned around me and said, “Hi, Apollo.” She extended her hand. “You must be Mrs. Banks. Join us!”

Apollo’s mom walked past, sitting by my mom, but Apollo still stood. People were beginning to grumble in the row behind him, but he kept his eyes on me. “Nadira, can we talk?”

My heart froze at the sound of my name on his lips. What was he going to tell me? That I’d crossed a line? That he really wanted me to stay out of his business? I couldn’t stand another look of disappointment. Any more dismissive words. My heart had taken all it could handle and then some.

Mom nudged my arm. “Go, honey.”

Her words had me standing. Had my feet moving after Apollo, down the bleacher row and then down the aisle steps.

He looked over his shoulder periodically, as if to make sure I was coming, but said nothing. Just seeing the way his shoulders moved, the stiff set of them, made me fear bad news. I silently begged that he would make it quick and that I would be able to escape to a bathroom, outside, anywhere he wouldn’t see me cry.

There was an indoor track behind the bleachers, and Apollo led me to an outcropping of space outside the track. It was an emergency exit, away from the concession stands or bathrooms. If I left, the doors would buzz, but at least I could flee if I needed to.

He reached the corner and turned toward me, taking me in. I wondered what he thought of me up close. The real me. In my Brentwood U jersey that showed the fat on my arms where they pressed against my sides or the line of my stomach where it bulged against my leggings. But I didn’t move to hide it by putting my hands on my hips or sucking in. No, I’d hidden enough. Apollo had said he wanted the real me, not an ugly lie.

Here I was.

I stared at him, daring him to flinch. To look away. To show he was repulsed by me and that I’d been right to be afraid.

He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it. His eyes shut too, forming a dark fringe of lashes.

What was he holding back?

He opened them up and looked at me again. “I wanted to say thank you.”

“What?” I breathed. That was the last thing I had expected.

“Thank you,” he repeated, “for calling my mom and getting her to come here. She said you reached out to her.” He paused for a moment. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you hurt me.”

My heart ached, but I nodded. I knew this could happen. “I would love another chance with you, Apollo. I would. But that’s not the only reason I called your mom. I did it because I care about you, and you care about her.”

His mouth opened and closed, but that was fine because I had plenty to say that I hadn’t been able to in the Emerson Academy parking lot.

“This isn’t a game to me. You and me.” I gestured between us. “I know I treated it like one, but I cared about you—care about you. And I know some grand gesture isn’t going to change what I did or the fact that I hurt you.”

He looked away, shielding the hurt in his eyes, but I pressed on.

“I know I don’t deserve a second chance, and maybe you shouldn’t give me one. I’m going to be three thousand miles away in August. The idea that two kids who met online could ever be anything more is ridiculous. Almost as impossible as a guy like you falling for a girl like me. Logically, I know that. My heart will catch up eventually.”

I looked him over for a moment. Trying to memorize his face. The scar on his ear and the arch of his eyebrows and the hard line of his jaw. But then I said, “It’s been nice getting to know you. I hope your life is the most beautiful adventure.”

And I walked away.