Curvy Girls Can’t Date Best Friends by Kelsie Stelting

Twenty

CARSON

Mom asked Dad out to supper. She said she wanted to talk things over with him and give me a chance to get to the house without him being there, but part of me was terrified. Not that he would hurt her, but that she would fall back into her old habits. She’d said she was done too many times before and kept going back to him. Would the same thing happen again?

I slowed my car and stopped along the street in front of the house. I couldn’t bring myself to park in the driveway. That was something you did at home, and this was the furthest thing from that. I got out of my car and leaned against it—I couldn’t quite bring myself to go into that house right now. There was so much hurt buried within those walls I could practically feel its aura surrounding the house.

“Hey, Cars!”

I glanced over and saw Joe and Nick walking toward me with a rugby ball.

“Getting some practice in?” I asked. They played on the club rugby team at Brentwood U, and Joe had gotten kind of freakishly buff for how much time he spent playing video games.

“Heading to the park for a pickup game,” Joe answered. “Wanna come?”

Nick nodded his approval. “Should be fun.”

Just the sound of Nick’s voice grated against my ears. But that probably had more to do with the fact that Callie liked him than the way he actually sounded.

“I gotta grab some stuff.”

Joe frowned, and he squared his shoulders. “Everything okay?”

I glanced from him to Nick, not sure if I wanted Nick to know about the messed-up family I came from. But then again, there was a pretty good chance Joe had already told him. It wasn’t like my parents were great at keeping their secrets. It had taken all of five minutes for Callie’s mom to decide I needed a friend, to welcome me into their home.

“I’m moving out early,” I said shortly.

Understanding crossed Joe’s expression. “We’ll help you grab your stuff.” He looked over his shoulder at Nick. “Text the guys and tell them we’ll be a little late.”

“Sure,” Nick said, already on his phone.

Joe tossed the rugby ball into his yard and started toward my front door. “Come on, man, I saw your dad leave. Let’s get this over with.”

My eyes heated, and I cleared my throat, following him. Nick didn’t need to see me fall apart.

Inside, I grabbed a box of garbage bags from under the sink. Joe stared around the living room, his eyes landing on a hole in the drywall. That was from the time Dad threw the end table. He had thought Sierra was staying out too late with her boyfriend. He accused her of things that made my skin crawl.

“Come on,” I said, heading toward the stairs.

Joe and Nick followed me up the stairs, and I tossed each of them a black bag. “Grab stuff from the dresser.”

I went to my closet and started loading shoes and hanging clothes into my own bags, not even bothering to take them off the hangers. I wasn’t sure how much time we would have, so we needed to be quick. If Mom stuck to her decision to leave, there was about a fifty percent chance Dad would get pissed halfway through the meal and storm out.

“What next?” Joe said.

I looked around my room, trying to decide what more I needed other than my clothes. There wasn’t much in this home for me. I’d trade it all for the kind of life Callie and Joe lived any day of the week.

“The pictures,” I said finally.

“I got it,” Nick said.

He reached atop my dresser, taking the framed photos of Callie and me. I watched as his eyes lingered on them for a moment longer than necessary.

Suddenly, I felt caught, realizing that my plan would work. That there was something there between Nick and Callie. And even though I should have been happy, I felt sick instead.

“We’re good, other than that, Cars?” Joe asked.

Swallowing down acid, I nodded. “Let’s get out of here.” I grabbed two loaded bags, and the guys took hold of three more before we hurried down the stairs. We needed to be fast.

My heart was racing, terrified of what would happen if Dad came home to this. I knew I could take him, but I didn’t want to. Didn’t want another reminder of just how alike we were. Especially not in front of the guys.

We walked out the front door, Dad’s car nowhere to be seen, and shoved the bags in my trunk and backseat.

Joe looked at the open trunk and said, “Why aren’t we bringing them to our house?”

I felt Nick’s eyes on me as heavy as the guilt in my chest. “I can’t,” I said finally.

“Why not?” Joe demanded. “We have that extra room for you.”

I was tired of the lies, of the secrets. So I told him the truth. “Because I’m in love Callie.”

Joe’s blue eyes were somber as he nodded, but Nick’s expression was veiled. What did he think about that? And why did it bother me so much that I couldn’t tell?

Tires screeched at the end of road, and my heart dropped into my throat. My dad saw me, and he was on his way.

“GO!” Joe said, shoving me toward the driver’s seat, shocking me into motion.

As the car hurtled down the street, I sprinted for my own and took off. Part of me worried Dad would follow me, bash his car into my own, but I just kept my eyes forward and slammed the gas pedal to the floor. I took our neighborhood streets as fast as I could, and when I hit the main road, I drove even faster until the ocean came into view. Somewhere, I lost Dad, but I kept driving anyway. Sometimes it just felt good to escape, even if you didn’t know where you were escaping to.