Don't Call Me Fat (COMPLETED)

There's No Way by Lauv feat. Julia Michaels

Have you ever had a time when you had to mentally reteach yourself how to breathe? 

That's what I was having to do right now. 

Michael and I had decided in class to meet at the bleachers after school. They were close to the parking lot on the field side, so my sister could pick me up when I was through. Thank goodness today was a practice day, so she actually drove her car. If mom had to pick me up in the middle of this in that minivan with her standard 100 questions of any of my new friends... I think I would have probably have just keeled over and died there on the spot. 

The rest of my day after history was basically shot. I couldn't think about anything else. I should probably offer to switch partners with him, so he can work with someone else. He might like that. But he also made a joke with me, so maybe we're cool? I don't know. This is so stressful. Perhaps I should email Mrs Davies and see if she could work out another arrangement? Surely someone other than the two of us had picked the Jackson's. Right?I sent texts to both Mags, and Codie, basically SCREAM texting them to help me. Mags sent back like twelve laughing face emojis, while Codie at least tried to lighten the mood. She was all like, "It's just a project, Ophelia. It'll be over before you know it. Try and relax. Remember to breathe." And then SHE ALSO sent about 12 laughing face emojis. 

Some friends these were.

My locker was closer to the field side of the school, so I felt like I got there way ahead of him. I tried to sit as nonchalantly as I could on the bottom pull out, browsing through my phone after I had retrieved my notebook and pen from my bag. The wind was blowing hard enough to flip the pages of my notepad open, making some of my papers flit around. 

Annoyed, I stood to start the cleanup. We are currently in the second week of September, and the weather had yet to turn. I still had sandals on with midi shorts that cut off at the knees, so stooping to pick up these pesky papers should have been easy. 

Until I fell forward and busted my head on the row of bleacher seats behind me.

I sat dazed for a second, rubbing the spot on my forehead where I could feel the bruise starting to form. Why was I so clumsy? You would have thought all those years of dance classes would have paid off a little. Extra balance, or at least mediocre coordination! Those classes had been t*****e, too! AND FOR WHAT?!

Like, my mother took Ava and me and to class three times a week, where we would practice ballet, tap, and tumbling. Ava was a rock star there, going on to compete at age 7 with other kids of comparable talent, while I was lucky to get two nods of attention from any of my instructors. I mean, I could hold my own, but nobody actually wants the chubby kid to succeed. 

That's what I had kept telling myself anyway. That's the one single thing that made sense. I was pretty good. But then I remember a conversation that I had with my mom before she pulled me out to stick me into softball, "Sweetie, you're just not built for these types of activities. I'm afraid that there'll be damage done to your joints early that won't be reparable later on." 

It had been like a knife in my heart. All those practice hours wasted. Everyone else got to be a pretty ballerina, and that's all I had secretly wanted too. But nope.  I was the gawky, stocky softball star that hated her life up until my dad let me quit in seventh grade.

I was still picking up papers when Michael came bounding up to where I was pinching the last of my notes off the ground. He bent to pick up a couple of papers that I hadn't got yet. Smiling at me, he handed over the handful before swinging his bag to the metal stand where we were to have our first history project meeting. I filed the papers back into their respective spots before sitting down next to him. 

By next to, I meant about 5 feet away. You can never be too careful. 

He sniffed an armpit before throwing me a look, laughing, "I didn't think I smelled that bad today. You can move closer if you want to."

I didn't want to. Why would I want to get closer to the hottest guy in school? Other than for obvious reasons? He'll see me sweat!  He'll see how nervous I am!  He'll definitely know that I'm affected by his dashing good looks, and that just can't happen! 

I contemplated scooting backwards as a joke.. But on second thought, that just seemed rude. I scooted about a foot closer, more aware of myself than ever, hoping that the bleacher didn't groan too loudly under my shifting. 

I cracked an apprehensive smile before croaking out my first set of words, "Um, so what have you got so far? I haven't actually typed anything out, I have a rough outline though, and a little research thrown together."

His face told that he was impressed. Pulling notes out of his backpack, he handed them over to me, having to lean a little since I was still quite a bit away. I flipped through them. He had written a lot of interesting things down. His outline was great! And he had such neat penmanship. 

I mean, the guy was perfect at everything! He was even smart, according to this. You know what it is when jocks are smart? Not fair. Haven't you seen the movies? They're supposed to be stupid and ask the nerds like me for help on projects. This dude could teach the class with a brain like this. "You must really like history..." I carefully hedged. I didn't want to be a snob and assume.

"Yeah, history I guess you could call, sort-of-a hobby of mine," he was looking down, his bronzed hand came up to run his fingers through his dark locks, pushing them back where the wind was relentless. He squinted his eyes, looking with a pensiveness meant for movie stars. "What were you kind of thinking with the project? I have a couple ideas if you want to hear them."

I wanted to hear all of the words that came out of his mouth. All of them. He could talk to me all day if he wanted to. 

Trying not to swoon in his presence since my nerves were so on edge, I tried to turn the nervous energy into focused energy. I had only deep-breathed about 5 times in the course of sitting here for the last 3 minutes. How could you not be intimidated with baby Apollo sitting in front of you? His jaw looked like it had been chiseled by Zeus himself! His eyes were brown... the dreamy kind of brown.  Not to be confused with standard chocolate brown--no.  They almost looked burgundy when the sun hit them, like embers burning... 

Cringing at myself, I made the mental note to NOT write poetry about him in his presence.

"Yes, please tell me what you're thinking. I thought I was the singular one who thought the Jackson's were interesting. I'm curious about what you want to do." Relaxing a smidge, I felt proud. That was the most coherent sentence out of my mouth since meeting this boy. Hopefully I wouldn't make a total fool out of myself.

"Oh totally, I thought Jackson was a badass. Rachel was cool, but Andrew really gets into the nitty gritty of Southern politics and culture. So what I was thinking is that we could do a mini movie with their life kind of flying by? I've always had a fascination with film storytelling and never seem to get to use it..." 

The more he spoke, the more I was caught up in his voice and person. He moved like magic, his hands helping him tell the story. The look of passion on his face while he was describing what he wanted to do was mesmerizing. Every time he moved his hair back from his cheeks, I caught my breath a little.  

I caught myself getting caught up in him.  Shaking myself back to the present, I forced my brain to think again. What was I supposed to do? 

Oh, yeah. Offer to switch partners if he wanted. Stick to the plan, Ope. It was hard to even think of the plan right now. I felt love drunk. 

Can you be love drunk when you're not actually in love? 

Maybe I'm dazzled. Most Definitely infatuated. 

"Ophelia?" His voice broke through my thoughts.  "Are you OK? You're kind of...drooling..." Michael was motioning to my face, his hand directing my attention to the lower corner of my mouth that was hanging slightly open. 

Oh. My. Gawd. 

Michael Morgan had not only caught me staring at him in full daydream mode, but the dude has also caught me DROOLING. 

WHO. DOES. THAT???? 

My hand clapped to my mouth, my eyes practically bulging from my head.

I cannot fake a seizure right now, that's not cool. 

I scrambled to think. What do I say??

Swiping at the drool, and smiling hella awkwardly while patting my face delicately, I conjure, "Yeah, the drool, it's just, uhm, something I sometimes do when I'm super tired." If possible, my eyes grew larger than they already were.

WHAT? 

WAS? 

COMING? 

OUT? 

OF? 

MY? 

MOUTH? 

No I DON'T DROOL WHEN I'M TIRED! 

AND I don't lie!! 

Well, I guess I do now. 

What am I supposed to tell him??  That his face is a love potion and seriously distracting to the point regular girls like me are spell bound so fluids fall freely from our mouths? 

That's not happening!

I chuckled, hoping to throw him off.  "Yeah...just got lost in thought there." He's going to think I'm on drugs.

"OK, that's cool I guess." Michael laughed nervously with me, his eyes darting to his notes.

Great. Now he's going to think I'm straight from the nerd factory. Now would make the perfect time to offer another partner up, so I didn't have to live with this kind of stress any longer. "So," I abruptly half-shouted. "I was thinking, if you want, I could ask Mrs. Davies to switch our partners around if you wanted to." Taking my eyes back down to my lap, I pretended to be studying my notes. I kept my head down; I didn't want to see his reaction of relief when he considered that there were other options.

Snapping is head up, he asked, "Is that what you want, Ophelia?"  He sounded hurt.

Taken aback, I balked. "No! I just thought you might be more comfortable with someone else..." I let the sentence hang. 

"Someone else...? What? Are you scared I'm going to mess up your grade?" His face almost looked concerned. How come every time I'm in front of him I find myself mortified? Surely the thought had crossed his mind that I wasn't exactly on his level. 

He'd be better off with someone like Janet Skye, the brilliantly hilarious, super popular, super smart, tall and leggy Junior Class President who also shared our 5th period Advanced History class. 

"NO! I'm not scared of that at all. Your notes are brilliant. Forget I mentioned it." I thought that would be the end of it. I tucked a rebellious wind blown curl behind my ear.

"I mean, I was kind of excited that I got partnered with you. You seem cool."  The words were spoken softly, his gaze not fully meeting mine.

What? He just said that? My face was on fire, I could tell. My heart had to literally be beating a mile a minute. I kept my head down, letting my hair fall in front of my face like a wild blonde veil. "Oh? Yeah, thanks. You're cool too." 

I'm dying right now. He thinks I'M COOL.

"Opie! Opie!" 

I heard Ava's voice from a distance. She must be done with cheer practice. Flipping my wrist to look at my watch, I wait to see the time pop up. 4:24p. They were done early. "That's my sister yelling. That means it's time for me to go. Sorry to cut this short." I shot him an apologetic look, collecting my things back into my bag.

Michael stood with me, starting to mimic my actions. "Don't worry. I was late, too. But when should we do this again? I'd like to go ahead and get started on some of the big stuff, so we don't get behind. Well, me. I don't want to get behind. It makes me jumpy." He had a little grin that tugged up one side of his mouth. 

Did I mention his teeth were white, straight, and perfect? Like, did he just get clone copied from a cologne ad or something?

I didn't want the conversation to lag too badly, so I ventured, "I bet you stay pretty busy with... um, sports?" I felt my voice falter at the end of that sentence. I wasn't sure if I needed to be specific or not. I knew he was playing football, but he was rumored to be the best athlete the school had seen in any bracket. I'd seen him shoot ball, just playing around after gym a few times. He didn't miss a single throw.

Shaking his head with a little chortle, he replied, "I mean, yeah, I stay busy. But school always comes first. I have a lot of hope riding on my grades. So when do you think?" He squinted at me, his hand raising to shade his eyes as he tried to find my face through the sun glare.

"I mean really any time. The only after-school thing I have is 'Council, and we are not in a fundraising stage right now. It won't pick up full swing until the first week of October." 

He nodded is approval. "Perfect," he bit his bottom lip. "In the next couple of days do you--"

"OPIE!!" Ava screamed my name before coming to a quick stop right in front of me. "Didn't you hear me yelling for you across the field?? We've GOT to GO! I have mandatory late practice and have to take you home, like, now!" Right at this moment was when Ava realized whom I was standing in front of. 

"Oh, Michael! Hey. Didn't see you standing there." Her mood instantly shifting, my sister flashed her pearly whites in the most becoming smile. Her long pony flipped behind her shoulder as she whipped her head to see him more clearly, changing into what I like to call "hot-girl-stance." Her hip c****d as her fist came to rest on its curve, her booty popping dramatically to one side of her body.

"I didn't know you were friends with Opie." Her eyes flickered over to mine, briefly sending the message that I had to spill-the-tea on the ride home. 

Michael swung his bag over his shoulder, looking Ava up and down before responding to her. "Uhm, yeah, Mrs. Davies paired us up. I thought I was pretty lucky to be matched up with Ophelia, though." 

How cute. Throwing me a pity line to get with Ava.

I looked away from their encounter. Of course, he would be interested in my perfect sister. I don't know why I felt like I was something special, like we had a connection or something. Duh. He's going to be into the perfect cheerleader types, like her. That would just mean that the world was still balanced, and I was still me, and nothing had really changed.

"Ophelia is the lucky one, I think!" Ava gushed. "It makes me wish that I was back in Mrs. Davies, you know, if partners like you were available." 

I literally almost gagged. She was coming on strong.

Interjecting in order to save some of my sister's dignity, I piped, "Ava I think we need to get going--" Rrrrrr!

It was there that my stomach took the beautiful opportunity to roar like it never had before. My hand immediately shot to my abdomen as if that would silence the thunder rolling out of its quarters. My eyes were huge and I beckoned Ava with my wild face, pleading with her to head to the car.

"Oh my gosh, Ope. You must be starving!" Ava whipped her head between Michael and me, not sure who to pay attention to. She continued, "Don't mind Opie, we have her on a tight--" 

"SCHEDULE!!" I interrupted. "Yup, on a suuuuuper tight schedule. And that's another reason as to why we have to leave... Right now!" I plastered on the sweetest, sickest, thin lipped smile I could muster. 

Ava knew what that face meant, and hurried to my side, but not before yelling back at Michael, "Well, I guess we'll be seeing you around! Talk to you tomorrow!"

Why couldn't I have one normal conversation with a boy? 

WHY?

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{Thanks for reading this far into Opie's journey! Check out Billionaire Fight Club: Fight of My Life, & Nanny Affair for more by J. L. Smith!  Love!}