Fat Girls Are Not A Bet Chapter 11
I couldn’t sleep that night.
I lay in bed, turning over and over, my head full of everything Adrian had said.
I honestly couldn’t remember the incident he’d described, when I’d supposedly helped him.
But he’d remembered it for ten straight years.
My phone lit up. A message from Adrian.
“Home yet?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t forget to put ointment on your wrist.”
I looked at the screen, hesitated, then asked what I’d been wondering.
“So you recognized me a long time ago?”
He was quiet for a moment.
“Yeah.”
“You could still recognize me from that hideous high school photo?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t hesitate.
“You haven’t changed much.”
I glanced at the group chat photo where my features had practically been swallowed up by fat.
*That’s* not much of a change?
I was starting to seriously suspect Adrian’s eyes came with a built-in beauty filter.
“So you signed up for the game to help me?”
“No.”
I paused.
A second later, another message came through.
“I signed up because I wanted to see you.”
My heartbeat kicked up without my permission.
Before I could reply, Adrian sent a photo.
The image was faded yellow.
Little-kid me stood at the school gate with two pigtails, chubby, holding a half-melted popsicle.
In the corner of the photo, a thin, small boy was sneaking a glance at me.
So he really had been thinking about me for years.