Curvy Girls Can’t Date Best Friends by Kelsie Stelting

Seven

Sixteen Years Old

Callie

Sarah settled into Carson’s lap on my basement couch. “Can you believe we’ve been dating for five months?”

I could. These had been five of the longest months of my life, having to share my best friend with his girlfriend. Trying to shove down my feelings for him while supporting him while also hoping his relationship would fail. I was a mess, and my psoriasis was showing it.

I continued flipping through the movie options, trying to find something that wasn’t violent but also wasn’t romantic—and failing.

“No way, babe,” Carson said. “Feels like it hasn’t been long enough.”

A loud smacking sound came from right next to me as she kissed him. “Thanks, babe, but I was asking Callie.”

My hand froze on the remote as everything inside me cringed. Good thing I’d gotten five months of practice hiding my thoughts. Especially about the number of times they used the word “babe” in regular conversation. “Is today your anniversary?” I asked, even though it was completely ridiculous to celebrate an anniversary before the year-mark hit.

“Tomorrow,” she said, then nuzzled her nose against Carson’s. “What are we going to do to celebrate, babe?”

I watched his reaction, trying to tell if he was happy with her—really happy. I’d do anything for Carson to be happy, even if it meant having his obnoxious girlfriend at my house half the days of the week. Even if it meant keeping my mouth shut about how I felt about her.

Even if it meant staying quiet about how I felt for him.

He grinned at her and said, “Whatever you want, babe.”

His smile seemed genuine... his voice was doting. And they were celebrating their five-month anniversary. Maybe it was time to give up, move on, find someone else I might actually have a chance with. I was sixteen, and the closest I’d ever gotten to a kiss was sitting next to Carson and his girlfriend.

While they made plans for an especially sappy date the coming day, I finally settled on Stepbrothers. Usually I wasn’t in the mood for such crass humor, but I could use the distraction tonight.

As the opening scene came on, I heard my brother’s voice on the stairs saying, “Cal Pal chose this movie? Who are you and what have you done with my sister?”

I grinned at the sound of his voice. He’d started college a month ago, and I hadn’t seen him in weeks. “Joe!” I jumped up from the couch and began running toward him. Until I saw the guy behind him. The cute guy behind him.

Oblivious to my pause, Joe hugged me and said, “Maybe I should leave for college more often. You’ll actually get some taste.”

I rolled my eyes. “If you consider Stepbrothers tasteful, you’ve learned nothing at Brentwood U.”

“Fair,” said the guy behind him, and man, his voice was even better on my ears than his appearance was on my eyes. He had close cropped brown hair and pitch-black eyes that intrigued me almost as much as the pale smattering of freckles across his nose. His chin had the cutest dimple, and his height...he had to be at least a foot taller than me. Maybe even taller than Carson.

“This is Nick,” my brother said. “My roommate,” he added for Sarah’s benefit.

My family had heard all about Nick—or at least my mom had during her daily calls with Joe. Of course, I wasn’t supposed to know about those calls or how homesick he’d gotten while trying to adjust to college life.

Joe introduced each of us, and when he said my name, Nick gave me a smile so warm, it turned my knees to melted butter. Someone needed to bring me a fainting couch. Stat.

Mom called down the stairs, letting us know she had a new test round of eclairs up for grabs.

“I’ll get it,” Joe offered, then said to Nick, “make yourself at home.” As he rushed up the stairs, he called, “Pause the TV, Cal. This the best part.”

I glanced at the screen and winced at one of the guys putting his private parts on a drum set. Really? This was comedy? But then again, it was better than yet another romance that would just leave me weeping at the end.

Nick sat on the couch far away from Sarah and Carson, whose lips seemed to be glued together at the moment. To dull the growing ache in the pit of my stomach, I sat near Nick with my back to them. “What are you studying? Are you in videogame design like Joe?”

“Nah.” He shook his head. “Poetry.”

My eyes widened. He was cute and he could write? Where was that fainting couch again?

“Joe and I actually going to my first poetry slam tomorrow. You should come.”

“Where is it?” I asked. It might be hard to swing a ride to Brentwood and back home. Dad usually had an event for the non-profit he managed on Saturdays and spoke to churches on Sundays about ways to get involved. That left Mom to go with him and take care of the house.

“It’s actually at an animal shelter not too far from here,” he said.

“A shelter?” I asked, dumbfounded. Didn’t poetry readings usually take place in angsty coffee shops?

“It’s a benefit—to try and get people to adopt dogs.”

The list of reasons I liked him just kept growing. I’d been begging Mom for weeks to get a dog I could take on walks. Maybe this could be my chance? Not only for a dog, but for a boyfriend of my own.

But as Joe walked downstairs with a plate full of chocolate and cream eclairs, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Joe would never let me date his best friend. Not that Nick would be interested in his roommate’s kid sister. Nothing said unattractive to someone fresh out of high school like two and a half more years before graduation.

“Those look incredible,” Nick said, staring at the plate Joe set on the coffee table.

“Dig in, dude,” Joe said, grabbing four for himself. He jerked his finger at Sarah and Carson. “Do they ever stop doing that?”

“Sometimes. When they need to come up for air.” I glanced at them for as long as my heart could take it, lamenting the fact that I’d wanted that same obliviousness for Carson and myself.

Joe said, “Good for him. Thought he was going to hang out in your friend zone forever.”

Well, that stopped the kissing. Sarah pulled back from Carson, her lips red and her cheeks redder. “Friend zone?”

Joe chuckled. “Yeah, we all thought Carson had it bad for Cal. Apparently we were wrong.”

“You’re one to talk,” Carson said. “Gemma ever call you back?” He reached for just as many eclairs as Joe had taken. Now that each of the guys had their fill, there was only one left on the plate.

“Take it,” I told Sarah. “It’s yours.” He’s yours.

* * *

Nick and Joe went back to their dorm that night, leaving just Mom, Dad, and me at breakfast the next morning. I had convinced Mom to let me take her car to the poetry reading. She said it would be good for Joe to see family there.

“What about adopting a dog?” I asked. “Maybe I’ll find the dream dog. Hypoallergenic, low shedding. It could be good for me, you know, give me a reason to get out and exercise again.”

She pressed her lips together in that way that told me I’d made a good point but she didn’t want to admit it. “You know a dog’s average life span is somewhere between eight and sixteen years.”

“And?”

“You have two and half years before you go to college. It might feel like a lifetime now, but it will fly by. And it’s not like you’ll be able to sneak a dog into the dorms at Stanford.”

I loaded my fork with a bite of biscuits and gravy and eggs as I thought over my next angle. “You and Dad wouldn’t want to have a dog? What about empty nest syndrome?”

Dad laughed. “We’ve had kids in our house for nearly twenty years. We’re ready for a break!”

Mom nodded. “So unless you can find a dog that’ll be around for two years, the dog days are over.”

“Ouch,” I said, pushing back from the table. “I thought you loved me.”

Dad extended his arm and rubbed my shoulder. “We do. Your furry friends? Not so much.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “Have a good day at the convention.”

Mom patted my other shoulder on my way to the kitchen. “Have a good time at the poetry reading. It sounds so fun. And get your doggy pets in while you’re there.”

I went upstairs to pick out my outfit, even though I had a good six hours until I needed to be there. Nerves were starting to fill my stomach, and for the first time, they weren’t about Ryde Alexander or Carson Cook. No, they were about possibility.

A knock sounded on my door, and I looked up to see Carson, a sad smile on his face. “What are you getting ready for?”

“Hey,” I said. “I’m thinking about going to a poetry reading with Joe and Nick...” I held up two shirts. “Which one is better?”

He shrugged and sat on my bed. “The red one?”

I looked toward the ceiling. “This one isn’t even red; it’s coral.”

Rolling his eyes, he said, “I’m bad at this.”

Putting the black shirt back in my closet, I teased, “How does Sarah deal with you?”

He flexed his biceps, making the muscles bulge and my stomach swoop. “These bad boys help.” He stuck out his tongue.

“You’re crazy,” I said, because my mouth had gone dry and my mind was numb and I couldn’t think of any other words.

“You’re not going to ask what I’m doing tonight?” he questioned.

With a sigh, I sat on my desk chair and gave in. “What are you going to do tonight?” He glanced at the door, and getting his message, I shut it. Now I was really curious. “You’re not in trouble, are you?” I asked.

“No.” His laugh was breathy, so not like him. “I’m not in trouble.”

“What is it?” I asked, my chest tight.

“Tonight’s going to be my first time,” he breathed, his voice rough.

My mouth parted, and the blood in my veins turned to ice. Carson was going to have sex, with Sarah. Moisture sprang to my eyes for a million reasons I didn’t understand and one I did.

I’d been holding on to Carson, on to the possibility of a crazy story that he and I could somehow be meant for each other. But I’d been wrong, and now I was crying, and he was looking at me with a doubtful look, and I never wanted my best friend to look like that after telling me such big news.

“I’m sorry—” he began.

I shook my head, not wanting to know why he felt sorry for me. He deserved a friend that would celebrate him. I launched in to hug him. “Don’t be sorry,” I said through my tears. “I’m happy for you.”

“You don’t think it’s a mistake?” His big arms held me close, and it felt like home.

I pulled back, wiping away my tears. “You love her, right?”

He nodded. Another knife through the heart.

“And you’ll be careful?”

Another nod.

His phone dinged, but he ignored it.

“Then it’s your decision,” I said. “Whatever feels right.”

His lips twitched, and he nodded. The reminder chime went off, and he glanced at it. “Sarah’s ready.” His eyes searched mine for a moment. “Are you okay?”

I forced a smile and nodded. “I’ll see you around?”

He nodded, then stood. Before walking out the door, he said, “You’re still my best friend, Callie.”

My smile trembled. “You’re mine too.”

After he left, I cried and cried for everything Sarah had that I didn’t. I cried for all the memories I had with Caron in here. For the “first time” everyone at school thought we had when we were too young to even know what that meant.

But then I picked myself up because what was the alternative? Carson had moved on, and I needed to as well.

I got in Mom’s minivan and drove to a shelter called Nature. And I cried some more as Nick recited a poem he wrote about losing the person you used to call home.