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I know that my size does not determine my value. I know that just because I’m not what people would call slender or slim or even classically beautiful with sharp features — all my features are rounded and pillowy — that I won’t have a good life.
I do have a good life. I willcontinueto have a good life.
I have a great family, great friends. I’m studying for a career that I love and feel passionate about. I know that I’m a hard worker and won’t give up until I make a name for myself in my field.
Although I would like to take a moment to say that it sucks.
Being different.
No matter what people say, if you’re born different, you already have a target on your back. You alreadyaremarked. Whether you let it affect you or not, whether you’re surrounded by people who love you or not, who tell you that it doesn’t matter being different, you always have a shadow on your back. You always have to work that much harder to exist in a world that makes everyone’s existence — whether you are normal by their standards or not — difficult.
Anyway, I’m one of the lucky ones who’s always had a good support system, so I’m not going to complain or indulge in self-pity. In fact I’ll go so far as to say that I also know that one day I’ll meet a man who’ll love me for who I am, doughy rolls and pasty curves and all.
The only problem is that I’ve already met a man thatI’min love with.
Who has no interest in me.
And the realist in me can’t really blame him.
The realist in meknowsthat he’s out of my league.
He’s so out of my league that I should not even be thinking about him right now.
Especially not when I’m on a date with another guy.
Not even if he appears right in front of me out of nowhere.
Wait…
What?
How is he appearing right in front of me out of nowhere?
Straightening up in my chair, I frown. And blink.
Several times actually.
In the hopes that I’m seeing things.
That I did not just see him step through those greasy glass doors, all broad-chested and towering.
And still pissed.
But I did, I think.
Because just the way I’m looking at him, he’s looking at me.
Focused and fierce.
And for the second time tonight, I feel them.
Those tingles.
His touch without his touch.
Meaning he reallyishere, my boss and the love of my life, at the restaurant that I’m on a date with another guy.
CHAPTERTHREE
