HIS CHUBBY STEPDAUGHTER

MICHELA;

"Look, Chela, Nathan doesn't see you in that light," Jemy said for the umpteenth time. 

Trust me, that line of hers had become stale. I had heard it for the longest time, and she was starting to sound like a broken record.

I shifted in the stiff library chair, feeling the wood press into the backs of my thighs. A couple of students whispered at a table nearby, but mostly it was quiet enough that Jemy's voice carried even though she was trying to keep it down.

"So, you would rather have me..."

"Leave him! Forget him!" Jemy cut in, leaning forward so her braids swung like pendulums. "I don't get how you still run after that pompous, arrogant boy... What's so special about him? Ugh!"

She was doing it again, getting on my last nerve and refusing to meet my eyes. She knew exactly how much I hated when she talked about Nathan like that. He wasn't all that bad, he just had... distractions.

I pressed my lips together and gripped the edge of my notebook, the pages crinkling under my fingers. Heat crept up my neck and into my cheeks.

"Now you're sounding like you're new in Rockville College, Jemy... That guy is the hottest on campus! No doubt why he has a bit of a sexy attitude," I said, forcing the words out even though they tasted a little sour. I swallowed hard, because deep down I knew the truth was harder to swallow.

"Sexy?" Jemy let out a short laugh that made the girl at the next table glance over. "You call talking down on you sexy? You call him taunting you about your size at any slight chance he gets sexy? Wake up, girl." She flipped through her notebook pages with quick, irritated flicks.

I glanced down at my soft stomach where it rested against the table. My fingers moved automatically to tug at the hem of my shirt, then stopped. The air conditioning hummed above us, blowing cool air that made the little hairs on my arms stand up.

I knew Jemy had no patience for younger guys. Her own boyfriend... or manfriend, whatever she called him... was a forty-five-year-old billionaire. 

She never gave me his name, according to her, their relationship is discreet and she loves it that way. I had seen the evidence with my own eyes. Sleek black cars with dark windows pulling up to drop her off after long weekends. 

Designer bags appearing on her arm out of nowhere. Her phone buzzing with notifications that meant her bills were handled without her lifting a finger.

"I know you don't believe in dating younger guys but I have known Nathan for the longest and we spoke last evening. He promised to make it up to me." I pushed my chair back and stood up fast, not wanting to give her another chance to talk me out of it. I swung my backpack over my shoulder, feeling the strap dig into my skin.

Jemy's hand shot out and caught my wrist. Her fingers felt warm and steady.

"You deserve men, not boys. A man who will appreciate your body and how beautiful you are, Michela." Her voice dropped low, almost a whisper. The library was so quiet it felt loud.

For a second, an image flashed in my mind...  Miles at the kitchen table this morning, shirtless, mumbling one of his favourite songs, looking at me over his coffee mug like I was something special. 

The way his eyes had lingered lately. I pushed the thought away quickly, my stomach doing a little flip. He was my stepdad, and definitely not the 'man' Jemy was insinuating.

"Thanks, but no thanks, Jem," I purred, forcing a bright smile. "I want Nathan and he's not as bad as you're painting him... Well, if not for all those girls distracting him. I'm the one he needs, not them, not that Jessika."

"Very well then, Cupid's victim... I've got a shoulder strong enough to cry on." Jemy raised both hands in mock surrender. She looked back down at her open book, but I could tell she was still frowning, and somehow wishing she were my mother, not just my best friend.

I leaned down and planted a warm kiss on her cheek, smelling her familiar vanilla lip balm. 

"I'll tell you how it went later." I winked, trying to sound confident, then hurried out of the library before she could say anything else.

My heartbeat sped up as I pulled the birthday package out of my backpack. Jemy would have talked me to death had she seen it. 

 Inside was a jersey in Nathan's favorite deep forest green. I had spent extra time picking the right size, imagining how the fabric would stretch across his shoulders. Tucked inside was a handwritten note... the first one I had ever added for him. My cheeks warmed just thinking about him reading my words.

It was Nathan's birthday. I had known him since Mom married Miles Stewart four years ago and we moved into the neighborhood. 

Back then he was the cool boy next door who smiled at me like I mattered. Over the years we became friends... and a little more. 

Because in this friendship, we had kissed so many times, quick, breathless ones in his car or hidden at Wills and words,  my stepdad's bookshop. 

But every time I tried to push for more or asked what we were, he would pull back with that crooked smile and remind me I was  "a lot to handle." According to him, he couldn't lift my leg even if he wanted to.

I swallowed hard as I stepped out into the warm afternoon sun. The heat pressed against my skin. I looked down at the package and ran my thumb over the ribbon. 

Maybe today would change things. The note said everything I had been keeping inside, how I thought about him constantly, how I wanted to be the girl who made his birthday special, as always.

I waved down a cab at the edge of campus. And in a few minutes, I stood outside of Nathan's off-campus apartment. 

I looked down at myself, just to make sure I looked like a snack. My jeans hugged my thighs tightly, the way they always did, but I had chosen them on purpose. They made my curves look good. I grabbed the hem of my T-shirt and tied it in a little knot at the side, just enough to show a soft strip of my belly and my navel.

The package felt warm and solid in my grip. I brushed a stray lock of hair away from my face, took one deep breath, then another, trying to calm the flutter in my chest.

"Perfect," I mumbled to myself, closing my eyes for just a second. 

I could already picture Nathan's surprised face when he opened the door, the way he might pull me inside, maybe even kiss me right there in the doorway before I could say happy birthday.

I took one more step closer to his door, raised my hand, and knocked.

Then the door was pulled open. And it wasn't who I was expecting to see.