Fat Girls Are Not A Bet Chapter 12
The next day, our university’s freshman group chat completely exploded.
The photo of me and Adrian holding hands from the night before had gone everywhere.
Someone put my high school photo side by side with a current one and captioned it in the most attention-grabbing way possible:
**[Online girlfriend loses 200+ pounds. Trash ex bets her away to his friend the day before they meet.]**
Ethan became BU’s biggest joke overnight.
Someone asked him if he regretted it.
He fired back defiantly.
**[It’s just one girl. What’s there to regret?]**
Thirty minutes later, though, he added me from three different burner accounts.
Each friend request came with a longer message than the last.
“Olivia, I was drunk last night. I was just saying things because I was angry.”
“We’ve been together for eleven months. You can’t just decide to break up like that.”
“I already told Serena the truth. You’re the one I like.”
I didn’t answer a single one. Blocked them all.
Not long after, Serena DM’d me.
“Don’t think Ethan chasing you now means he actually likes you.”
“He just wants your face.”
I laughed.
For once, she’d said something honest.
But her next message came through immediately:
“If you have any self-respect left, you’ll stop stringing him along.”
I didn’t bother being gentle.
“Relax. I have zero interest in trash like him.”
“If you want him, the trash can’s all yours.”
I hit send and deleted her too.
I heard later that Ethan, trying to save face, publicly denied ever chasing me.
That same evening, he was standing outside my apartment building with a bouquet.
I didn’t go down.
He didn’t wait long before he left.
The next day, on move-in, Adrian was already waiting downstairs at my apartment when I got up.
He was in a simple white T-shirt, holding an unsweetened iced latte.
“For you.”
I took it, mildly surprised.
“How’d you know I drink this?”
“Guessed.”
He looked away. His ears went red again.
I didn’t call him on it.
He said he’d guessed, but I was pretty sure he’d been through my entire Instagram by now and had my preferences memorized.
At school, Adrian pulled my suitcase for me, and we drew a lot of looks along the way.
Walking past the freshman check-in tables, I spotted Ethan.
Serena was standing near him.
But the two of them were keeping their distance from each other, neither one looking at the other.
The second Ethan saw me, he started toward us.
“Olivia, can we talk? Just the two of us?”
Adrian stopped walking.
Before he could say a word, I’d already slipped my arm through his.
“No.”
Ethan’s eyes locked onto my hand. His face drained of color.
“You’re actually with him?”
I didn’t answer.
Adrian didn’t either.
Ethan just stood there, watching us walk away. He didn’t try to follow.
The Boston sun was clear, almost blinding.
The BU campus stretched out along Commonwealth Avenue.
Red brick buildings, glass windows, and the shadows of sycamore trees layered against one another.
In the distance, a green line trolley rolled past slowly, its bell soft in the wind.
Adrian walked beside me, keeping himself between me and the street to block the glare.
Without meaning to, I slowed my pace.
Walking side by side with him, there didn’t feel like anywhere I needed to rush to.
I’d spent a year losing over a hundred pounds, all so I could run toward someone who didn’t deserve any of it.
But eventually I understood—someone who really cares about you would never treat your appearance as a bargaining chip in the relationship.
Whether I was three hundred thirty pounds or a hundred and ten.
In Adrian’s eyes, I was still the girl who’d stepped between him and the boys hurting him, and pressed a Band-Aid into his hand.
As for whether there’d be a future for us.
I glanced at the person beside me.
He was bent forward, dragging my suitcase with such careful focus. The sunlight caught the side of his face.
I think the answer was already there.