Curvy Girls Can’t Date Best Friends by Kelsie Stelting

Twenty-Three

Callie

Carson agreed to come over the next day after we both got off work. He’d been pretty monosyllabic since we told Merritt about us “dating.” To be fair, we hadn’t talked on the phone or anything, just texted.

Maybe he was as nervous as I was. Telling my friends was one thing—but my family? Nick? I didn’t know if we could pull it off.

I glanced at the alarm clock by my bed. He should be getting here any minute now. Careful not to wake the sleeping dog on my lap, I leaned over my desk and looked in the concave mirror, applying another layer of mascara. When we told Nick, I wanted to look good. Fabulous. At least improve the last memory he had of me in my yellow shower cap.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Carson came into my room carrying a plate of cookies.

Franklin jerked away and gave a warning bark, but the second he saw it was Carson, he settled back down. I absently scratched my neck as I craned to get a look at the cookies. “What is it this time?”

Carson held up an orange triangle that looked somewhat like a carrot. “Vegetables.”

I laughed. “I need at least three servings a day, right?”

“They are a part of every balanced meal.” He handed me a radish and a celery stalk to go with the carrot.

I laughed and took a bite. “Mom’s definitely getting out of her comfort zone.”

Franklin growled at me, and I broke off a tiny piece of cookie to give him.

“You spoil him,” Carson and sat on my bed.

I scratched Franklin behind the ears. “You don’t have a problem with it, do you, boy?”

He snorted happily, his tongue lulling out of his mouth.

“Should I give you two a room?” Carson teased.

“This is it,” I said, gesturing around my room.

Carson shook his head, muttering, “Crazy dog lady.” While he continued working his way through the platter, I finished putting on my eye makeup. I never wanted to be seen in front of Nick without it again. When I was done, I turned to face Carson and nibbled at my “celery.”

“So,” he said, “are we doing this thing?”

“You mean lying to my parents?” Why didn’t we just call it what it was? Because playing pretend with Carson had my stomach in all sorts of knots.

He swallowed his bite. “Don't forget your brother and the guy you say you're in love with—for whatever reason.”

Although he said it lightheartedly, it really bothered me that Carson didn’t seem to like the one guy I’d had a crush on. (Other than him, but he didn’t need to know that.) Carson’s opinion was important to me, and I wanted my first boyfriend to be Carson-approved. “What’s wrong with Nick?”

“You mean besides his obsession with killing fictional characters?” Carson shucked his sandals and leaned back against the wall, crossing his legs. “Come on, why do you like him anyway?”

My cheeks felt hot at being put on the spot. My crush on Nick was hard to explain without telling Carson where it began. That I let myself fall for Nick so I could finally stop falling for him. Nick was no Carson, but he had so many good qualities. Like... “Do you remember when Joe’s appendix ruptured last year?”

Carson nodded.

“Nick stayed with him in the hospital the entire time. Didn’t leave once, not even when my mom said he should go home and shower or when we had all of our family in there. He stayed, for Joe.”

Carson’s face stayed expressionless.

“And it’s not just that he’s a good friend to Joe—like you are to me. He writes poetry, and supports animal shelters, and he has these beautiful dark eyes that—”

“Okay, I get it,” Carson said, leaning forward. “But you’re telling me there’s been no other guy that you’ve been even remotely attracted to up until now? Because you’ve never told me about a one.”

Instead of telling him the truth, I capped my mascara and said, “It's complicated.”

“How complicated can it be?” he challenged.

Complicated enough to ruin our friendship. But I didn’t say that. I said, “Do you really want me to get into it?”

“Tell me,” Carson said. “Why is it so important for Nick to like you? Why can’t you just be yourself and wait for a guy who will appreciate you the way someone should?”

My eyes stung, and I shook my head. “You don’t get it. You’ve always been attractive and had girls all over you. It’s not like that for me. I’m The Thing, remember?”

Carson rolled his eyes. “That’s just a dumb nickname you got in middle school. You can’t tell me you’re letting twelve-year-olds determine how you feel about yourself now?”

His words hit home, and I shook my head, blinking back tears. “It’s fine. We don’t have to do this. I’ll tell my friends and Merritt it was all a joke.”

The tears were coming harder now, and I wished more than anything they would stop. Franklin nuzzled closer to me, sensing my unease, but it just made me more upset. Even this poor wounded dog was worrying more about me than himself. I kept my eyes closed, trying to stem the flow, to keep my makeup from being ruined, but the tears just seeped through my lashes.

“Callie,” he said gently, touching his finger to my chin.

“What?” I blinked my eyes open to see concern and care on his face, matching the tenderness of his voice.

“I told you I would help you.” He gave me a weak smile. “You’re my best friend. I’d do anything for you.”

I managed a smile of my own. “Same for you, Cars.”

With a soft “Come here,” he set Franklin on the floor and embraced me. He held me close before pulling back and saying, “Let’s do this thing.”

I checked my makeup in the mirror while he grabbed the plate, and together with Franklin, we began walking down the stairs. Even though my heart was racing, I knew I needed to do this. To get over Carson once and for all and find my own happily ever after.

I could hear his footsteps fall behind me, and it felt like each step he took matched the pounding of my heart. What would my parents say about Carson and me being in a relationship?

What would Nick think?

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, we looked around and saw no one was in the kitchen or living room, so we continued to the basement to find everyone sitting on the sectional, watching one of my mom’s favorite British baking shows.

“This guy's totally going to win,” Nick said, pointing at the middle-aged man on the screen.

“No way,” Joe argued, “not with that sloppy form right there.”

My mom chuckled, and Dad held her hand. It was sweet. Would the moment still be sweet after we told them?

Nick looked up at us first, his dark eyes taking me in. I felt completely bare under his gaze. What did he see? Did he like how I looked? Or would he have to overcome his distaste for my looks based on my personality if we were to have any chance at all?

My mom followed his gaze and smiled at Carson and me. “Want to watch the Great British Baking Show with us?”

“Sure,” I said. Franklin wiggled in my arms, and I set him down so he could run to his favorite throw pillow.

“Actually,” Carson said, taking my hand, “can you guys pause it? We have something to tell you.”