Curvy Girls Can’t Date Best Friends by Kelsie Stelting

Nine

Eighteen Years Old

Callie

“Callie!” Carson’s voice came through my open window. I shoved aside the curtains, getting a full breath of the fresh evening air, and looked out at him where he leaned from his second-story bedroom window across our property lines.

“What’s up?” I asked, tucking loose strands of hair under my shower cap. Putting psoriasis cream on my scalp and covering it with yellow vinyl was not sexy. At all. But it helped, and Carson had seen it before. Still, I checked to make sure no one was watching us from the street. All clear.

My psoriasis had been better this last year, probably because I’d clicked with a great group of girls, and having friends aside from Carson was amazing. But the stress of graduation and of what I was about to ask Carson had my skin dry and flaking. I hoped I’d caught it before the flare-up got too bad.

“I’m bored.” Carson’s forearms flexed as he leaned on his windowsill. “Wanna watch a movie?”

“Great start to our last summer break before college,” I retorted. “Stay inside and watch a movie while everyone else is out living their lives.”

He chuckled, his laugh almost as warm as the evening sun. “You do look like you were ready for a night out on the town.”

My cheeks went red. “Caught me.”

“So...”

Mom’s voice sounded from downstairs. “Come over, Carson. Joe isn’t here yet, so you two can pick the movie before they get here!”

I looked down and saw my mom leaning out the open kitchen window, waving across the way at Carson. She must have been in the dining room with the windows open downstairs. Anything for Dad to make the most of these last cool evenings. Shaking my head, I grinned at Carson and said, “See you in a few.”

“See you!” my mom called.

I checked in the mirror to make sure I didn’t accidentally have any ointment smeared on my face and then picked up Franklin, my old, blind, grumpy foster dog. He growled until he settled snugly in my arms. Once I had his bed and stuffed animal, I started down the stairs.

Carson came inside about the time I reached the landing. He hadn’t knocked, but Franklin’s hackles rose, and he howled at the top of his little lungs.

At the disturbance, Dad looked up from his laptop where he was working, and Mom set her frosting bag down on the counter, clearly disgruntled.

“Franklin,” I soothed, “it’s just big bad Carson.”

“Yeah, buddy,” Carson said, coming closer and scratching his ears.

Franklin quickly relaxed and scratched to get in Carson’s arms. Carson held the dog close to his chest, whispering calming words. How he had such a way with animals, I didn’t know. The only person I knew who was more of a natural was my boss, Lorelei.

“Hey, kid,” Dad said to Carson. “Can you convince her to get rid of this one? The blind bat wakes all of us up every time a car door shuts.” Or your parents argue, my dad didn’t say.

Carson shook his head. “You know she’s a lost cause just as much as I do.” He nodded toward my shower cap. “Flare-up?”

A corner of my lips pulled down in response.

“Need me to grab the humidifier from your room?” he asked. “I can get it going in the basement.”

“Sure,” I said, going to examine my mom’s latest creation. Today looked like pirate-themed sugar cookies.

Carson passed Franklin back, and I tucked him to my side. As Carson easily thudded up to my room, I used my free finger to swipe some frosting off the edge of a bowl.

Mom gave me a chastising look.

“It’s delicious,” I said, savoring the sweet flavor filling my mouth. “Want me to run QA on this batch?”

Carson’s voice boomed from the stairs. “If Callie gets a test cookie, I do too!”

Franklin gurgled in agreement, and I stroked his back. “Isn’t that right, sweet boy?”

Mom’s lips spread into an exasperated smile. “I guess my cookies aren’t too bad since you two are always such willing taste-testers.”

Dad chuckled. “More like willing victims. Carson, have you already forgotten the nightmare batch?”

He came into view, holding my humidifier, and shuddered.

Mom waved a wooden spoon through the air. “One time I use baking soda instead of flour and everyone’s a critic.”

Dad rose from his spot at the table and walked toward the fridge, kissing my mom on the cheek on the way. She smiled at him lovingly, and Carson and I gave each other a look. How pathetic was it that my parents had a better love life than me? But if Carson agreed to my idea, that could all change, and soon.

“So,” Carson said, “about that taste test.”

Mom and Dad both chuckled, and Mom handed each of us a sugar cookie. I barely got a look at Carson's skull and crossbones before he shoved the whole thing into his mouth.

“Gross,” I said. Focusing on the dumb guy things he did made it easier to move on. That and knowing we were about to go to Stanford, where the college girls would be all over him and his swim-team friends.

I took a bite of my cookie, if only to drown the unpleasant emotions growing within me. It was a yellow circle, much less elaborate than Carson’s. “What is this supposed to be?”

My mom put on the worst fake pirate accent ever and said, “It's me booty, matey.”

Carson guffawed. “You just ate your mom's butt.”

I didn't want to, I swear I didn't, but I burst out laughing, as did both of my parents. Franklin growled and demanded to be let down.

The front door opened, and my brother and his best friend, Nick, walked through the door, carrying bags full of takeout from our favorite Chinese restaurant.

As Franklin barked madly, my gut dropped, and I hissed, “What happened to Nick not coming over?”

Of course everyone was laughing too hard to have heard me. I picked up Franklin, trying to settle his nerves.

Joe set his bags on the table and said, “What’s so funny?”

Carson answered, “Cal just ate your mom's butt.”

Joe gave us a funny look, and Nick's beautiful pitch eyes took on an amused expression as he studied me.

It was then that I realized I was holding a half-eaten sugar cookie, wearing a yellow shower cap, and probably had crumbs all over my face. Not to mention my dog was still barking wildly at all the commotion. My eyes widened, and I slowly stepped backward, trying to keep hold of the squirming dog in my grip. I was mortified. I had made extra sure that Nick never saw me like this, opting to stay in my room instead of going downstairs when he was around if I had to wear my cap.

But now, there was no avoiding it. I was in my jammies, my shower cap, and my slippers. At least I'd put on a bra.

Joe and Nick walked into the dining room and set the takeout bags on the table. While Joe began taking out boxes, Nick walked toward us. “New batch of sugar cookies, Anne?”

Carson seemed to stiffen beside me, which was strange because I was having the same reaction, even though my mind was screaming at me to move. But apparently the part of my mind that controlled movement was too preoccupied with the embarrassing image of myself that was sure to be seared into Nick’s brain for the rest of time, labelling me as completely undatable. Even more than being his best friend's little sister already did.

“Here,” my mom said, walking past me and extending a cookie to Nick. “Pretty sure there's no baking soda in this one.” She shot Carson and me a look over her shoulder, pretending like she wasn't amused.

Nick took it with an easy grin and popped it in his mouth, just as Carson had. Humming low, he closed his eyes. “Man, this has to be your best batch yet, Anne.”

My mom's eyes lit up. “You think?”

“Oh yeah.” He put his hand on my shoulder and patted. “I could see why Cal Pal would want to eat the pirate's booty.”

In an ideal world, I would have replied with something witty and humorous and preferably something that kept his hands on me. But my brain was still too busy short-circuiting. The electricity from his hand had my mind going haywire, and clearly even forming a coherent sentence was too much to ask. Because all I did was stand there like a big dope, my mouth hanging open, probably revealing a half-chewed cookie. RIP whatever was left of my self-respect.

Franklin barked at Nick, who quickly backed up and continued toward the table where Joe had already opened all of the boxes.

“Thanks,” I grumbled to the worst wing-dog ever.

Carson had caught sight of the food and of course forgot to be embarrassed for me. Trailing Nick to the table, he asked, “Mind if we take some downstairs, Anne?”

Mom shook her head, admonishing him. “Carson, you know this house is just as much your home as it is ours.”

Carson smiled sheepishly. “In that case”—he reached out and took one of the boxes and then looked back at me—"General Tso's?”

Still unable to find my voice, I nodded. He came back to where I stood rooted to the tile and handed me a set of chopsticks and a cardboard box.

Joe looked at us from the table and talked around a massive bite of egg roll he’d taken. “What are we watching?”

“Well,” Carson said, “if Callie picks, it'll probably be some sappy chick flick.”

I elbowed him in the stomach.

“I mean a delightfully hilarious romantic movie.”

Everyone chuckled at him, except for me. I was too busy thanking my lucky stars I could move again.

“I'm definitely feeling an Adam Sandler romcom,” I admitted.

Carson groaned and bent over the counter in a dramatic display of disappointment.

“Please,” I said. “You know you cried at 50 First Dates just like I did.”

Joe and Nick looked at each other, and Joe shrugged.

“I’m down for 50 First Dates,” Nick said.

Was it just me, or was he looking at me only? I needed to stop letting my mind get away from myself. It was just those dark eyes. They seemed to take in everything, especially me. Which was kind of a problem right now, considering my appearance.

“Let’s go watch it,” I said casually, even though I felt anything but. My heart was racing, and I was trying not to read too much into the fact that he had vouched for my movie choice. “Carson and I will go get it set up.”

I used my shoulder to push Carson toward the stairs. We had to hurry before the other two came down. I needed to ask him for help, and we were running out of time before the boys would finish ransacking the boxes.

“What's the rush?” he asked at the bottom of the stairs.

“I need to ask you a favor,” I hurried out, setting Franklin on the ground. He jumped onto the couch and took his favorite spot on Mom’s biggest throw pillow.

“What?” Carson asked, seeming concerned. “Is everything okay?”

I looked up toward the ceiling, toward my yellow shower cap. “I'm beyond mortification, but I think I'll be okay.”

He shook his head. “I've seen you in your shower cap before.”

“Nick hasn’t.”

He rolled his eyes.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said too fast. “I just don't see why you're so embarrassed about the shower cap. It's medical. It's not like you're trying to make a fashion statement.”

I shook my head. “We're getting off topic. I need you to help me with Nick.”

His eyebrows came together. “With Nick?”

Was this really that big of a secret? “I like him,” I hissed, glancing toward the stairs, “and I need you to help get him to like me.”

His jaw went slack. “You want me to what?”

“Don't seem so surprised,” I said, trying not to feel hurt. “Is it so far out there that Nick could like a girl like me?” I said it in a joking tone, but his answer really mattered to me. Carson knew me better than anyone else, and if he thought I wasn’t worthy of Nick, I didn’t have the slightest chance.

“No,” he stuttered, “it's not that at all. It's just the fact that... Nick? Really?”

I glanced toward the stairs again where I could hear him and my brother laughing. They were always having so much fun. And I loved Nick's laugh. It was low and happy. Kind of like Carson's. “What’s wrong with Nick?”

Carson shook his head. “It’s not about Nick. I'm not going to try and get anyone to like you. That's crazy. They should like you on their own.”

Desperation spread through my chest, a feeling I needed to stop being so familiar with. “Please, Carson?”

“No,” he said, resolute. After setting his food on the coffee table, he put his hands on my shoulders. “Look, you don't want to be dating a college guy.”

“Why? I'll be going to college in less than three months.”

“And? You don't want to date college guys then either.”

“You'll be a college guy,” I pointed out, stepping to the table to put down my own food. “Should no one date you?”

He brushed off my comment. “College guys only want one thing, and they know how to get it.”

Cue the world's biggest eye-roll. “Carson, it's not about sex. It's about the fact that I just graduated high school, and I still haven't even had my first kiss yet. The closest I’ve ever gotten was jumping on the bed with you during Seven Minutes of Heaven. Don’t you see how pathetic that is? I've been so busy being the ‘good girl’ that I haven't even had a chance to have an adventure of my own. I've been watching my friends fall in love, get dates, have fun, and what have I done? Played my piccolo in the marching band and hung out in my shower cap.”

Carson frowned, shaking his head. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Callie.” He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair into my shower cap. “Except maybe your taste in movies.”

Heavy feet landed on the stairs, and Joe said, “Agreed. Let’s start the misery.”