Curvy Girls Can’t Date Soldiers by Kelsie Stelting

Fifty-Seven

Nadira

Carver yelled up the stairs,“Dira! Ya boy’s here!”

I shook my head with a small smile on my lips. I liked the sound of that.

I started down the stairs, straining my ears to hear what my family was saying to Apollo. They’d been almost as excited to see him as I was.

Dad was asking him something about intramural basketball—a pretty safe topic—when I reached the living room.

Mom looked toward me, and Apollo followed her gaze. The second he saw me, he stood from the chair. I drank him in, a thirsty woman longing for every sip. He had on these khaki pants that hugged his thighs without being too tight and a mossy-green shirt rolled around his taut forearms. His hair was a little darker with a slick of gel, but it was his eyes that captivated me.

He looked at me like I was incredible. Like I was beautiful.

“Hi,” I breathed.

“Hey, Dir.” His lips spread into a grin, showing his straight white teeth. This was the guy picking me up for a date? I could hardly believe it. But he walked toward me, extending his hand. “Ready to go?”

“Definitely.” I easily slipped my fingers through his, feeling both a tingle of excitement and comfort like I’d never known.

I could feel my family’s eyes on us, so I waved at them, and Dad said in a British accent, “Remember, Dir.” He tapped his forehead.

I gave him a wink. I remembered our father-daughter “date,” but I didn’t think he had anything to be worried about. Apollo had never been anything but kind to me.

“Have her home by nine,” Dad said.

Mom chuckled, shaking her head. “Eleven.”

Dad rolled his eyes. “Nine, eleven, whatever. Just be safe.”

I shuddered at the words. Any time a parent said “be safe” in regard to a date, it was super cringey.

“We will,” Apollo promised, then began leading me toward the door. I couldn’t wait to see what we’d do.