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Chapters (67)
  1. Big Boned
  2. CONTENTS
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. One Month Later
  60. Acknowledgments
  61. About the Author
  62. Copyright
  63. About the Publisher
  64. Backad 1
  65. Backad 2
  66. Backad 3
  67. Backad 4

Jake laughed even harder, and I couldn’t remember the last time someone had found me this funny, well, other than the art-school guys. “I can’t believe you live in Julio’s house,” Jake mused.

“What’s funny? Why are you laughing? It’s too loud.” Zac let go of my hand and put his hands over his ears.

“Sorry, we’ll whisper.” Jake lowered his voice, and then looked at me and winked.

Wait . . . did he just wink at me? And again, I was transported straight back into the dreamlike canvas of a surrealist. This had never happened to me before! Guys did not wink at me, and certainly not guys like Jake Jones-Bloody-Evans!

“Should we meet on the beach in front of your house at five, when it’s not so hot?” he asked, but despite the fact he was looking at me, it took me a moment to register what he was saying.

“You were being serious?” I asked.

“Unless five is too late? Or we could do it another day?”

“Today!” Zac raised his voice.

“Five it is then,” Jake said, and pulled his phone out. “Swap numbers in case something changes?”

My already loosened jaw now tumbled to the ground, and I hoped he couldn’t see my shocked, dangling tonsils. I pulled my phone out, almost dropping it because my fingers were shaking. We exchanged numbers and then he walked away, tossing a casual, “See you soon,” over his shoulder.

But there was nothing casual about this at all. Casual was watching Netflix in your pajamas with the guys. Casual was your cousins coming around on a Sunday afternoon. Casual was not hot Jake coming ’round to your house to build sandcastles!

8

I stood on our lawn and looked at the beach. There was no sign of Jake or Lisa, and I wasn’t totally convinced they were coming either. Why would he want to come here and build a sandcastle with us? To be honest, a part of me hoped he wouldn’t come. I didn’t exactly have much experience when it came to hanging out with (straight) guys, let alone popular ones who probably talked about things I knew nothing about; our rugby world cup win, whey protein, and whatever else was on jockish conversational offer.

No. That was a lie. When I said I didn’t have much experience with (straight) guys, what I really meant to say was that I have zero experience. I am a total cliché: the fat girl who’s never been kissed. I can’t even pretend that it’s intentional, that I’m saving myself for the “right guy.” Because I’m not. I would literally kiss anyone at this stage, just to say I’d done it. Andile once offered up his lips as practice, and I was so desperate that I’d almost considered them, almost.