Kendall and Sistine both giggle and eye one another.
I know my friends like to pump me up, and they may actually see me in a flattering light, but it’s hard to feel it myself. I’ve always been the chubby girl. Even when we were little, I was the fat friend. They had guys chasing after them; I never did. Before I moved in with Nana, my mom put me on every fad diet she came across and even bought me clothes that were too small to try to motivate me to lose weight. I only got bigger. Luckily, as I got taller, the weight seemed to distribute itself better around my body, but I’m still not thin. My boobs hurt my back, I have birthing hips, and my bubble butt makes it hard to find jeans that fit properly. And I’m broad. My shoulders are the size of Kendall’s and Sistine’s combined.
“Besides,” says Kendall, “ifhethought he was too hot for you, he wouldn’t have asked you out.”
“Is he too old?” I ask. “He looks older.”
“It’s not like he’s on Medicare,” says Sistine, rolling her eyes. “Stop looking for excuses. Go out with him. Give him a chance.”
“Fine,” I say.
The rest of the night we listen to the band, have a few more drinks, and I catch Rhodes’ eye before he quietly slips out. Not once throughout the night did I see him checking out my friends, or any other girl for that matter. It’s strange.
When I get home, Nana is asleep on the couch. I wake her, make sure she takes her last round of meds for the day, and help her to bed. She asks me if I had fun, and I simply tell her yes without letting her know I’d been stood up.
The less she knows, the less she worries.
I return to my room, put on my pajamas, and collapse on my four-poster bed. My room is still pink from when I was little, though I removed my holiday Barbies and Beanie Babies from the bookshelf quite a few years ago. They were replaced with romance novels, candles, and photos from high school. The bedrooms in the house have white shag carpet, which is in remarkable condition given how old it is.
I turn on some music from my phone and lay for a while, listening to Taylor Swift and thinking about Garrett and my date with Rhodes tomorrow. I like to pretend it doesn’t bother me when Garrett flakes, but the truth is it hurts like hell. And it happens a lot, more than even my friends know. I make excuses for him all the time, but it gets to a point where I simply want to know he cares about me. I like to think I’m above it, that it doesn’t affect me, but I guess I’m lying to myself. Someone who cares about you wouldn’t let you drive over an hour to see them, only to cancel at the last minute. I know he’s busy with work, but he shouldn’t have let me travel all that way before changing his mind.
I sigh, then roll out of bed to wash off my makeup and brush my teeth. I’m not even sure how I feel about this date with Rhodes. I reckon I’ll show up and see how it goes. Then I’ll decide what I want from him, if anything.
I’m so tired of thinking about men. They’re never worth it.
RHODES
Icheck out of the hotel and arrive at Bread Crumbs early. They’re still serving breakfast, and it smells like bacon and eggs. My stomach howls, but I sate it with a simple bottle of water while I wait for Micah.
I’m scrolling through pictures my son posted from a law school party when Micah walks in at exactly eleven o’clock. The whole energy of the place shifts, like a fresh spring breeze wafting through the door. She’s wearing red lipstick, dark jeans, an open knit sweater over a tank top, and sandals with flowers on them. Her bright red hair is down, and the waves frame her face perfectly. She’s a vision.
I stand up to meet her and we hug before sitting down. The waitress comes over and hands us paper menus, but Micah puts hers down without looking at it.
“I always get the fried green tomato BLT,” she tells me. “It has an amazing aioli sauce.”
“Sounds delicious,” I say, putting my menu down. “Thank you for meeting me for lunch.”
“Thank you for asking me,” she says. “It’s not every day a handsome stranger shows up in town and asks me out, so this is new.”
My heart flutters when she calls me handsome, and I’m surprised by how forward she is. “I don’t know about being handsome, but I’m delighted to be here with you.”
“Oh, please,” said Micah. “Every girl at Cattywampus was staring at you last night.”
I shake my head. “They were probably wondering who the weirdo alone at the bar was.”
“Nope. Trust me.”
“Do you go to Cattywampus often?” I ask, then take a sip of my water.
“Most weekends. That’s pretty much where everyone goes to hang out, whether they drink or not.”
“It’s a cool space. It used to be a mill?”
“Cotton mill. You’ll find that most of the buildings around town are old and repurposed in some way.”
“I love it. That’s what I do. I recently started my own firm specializing in historic restoration work.”
Her face lit up. “Wow! A man after my own heart. I love old things.”
