The Star Player's Plus-Size Obsession

Chapter 05

Emily's POV

Enzo stared at me like I had just told him the sky was green.

"You had a crush on me?"

My face burned. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole. I could not say anything, so I nodded.

He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around the gym. "God, don't tell anyone that, okay?"

"What?"

"I have a reputation to maintain."

The words hit harder than the rat, the video,than every name Brooklyn had ever called me.

Joyce laughed and patted his chest. Then she turned to me with a pitying smile, the kind you give a lost puppy on the side of the road.

"Emily, honey, you need to be realistic."

"Realistic?"

"Enzo dates cheerleaders. Girls who care about themselves." She looked me up and down. "Not girls who look like they've never met a calorie they didn't love."

Enzo's jaw went tight. He looked away, toward the court, and said nothing.

"But we're friends," I whispered.

"Are we?"

"We are. You sit with me at lunch. You let me help you study for Biology. You came to my dorm when my grandma died." My voice shook. "All this time, you've been letting me believe I had a chance with him."

"I never said you had a chance."

"You said you'd talk to him for me! You said you'd put in a good word!" I stepped closer. "And you've been taking my money for the cheer squad?"

Enzo's head snapped toward Joyce. "What money?"

"Nothing, babe. She's confused."

"I'm not confused." I grabbed Joyce's arm. "Four hundred dollars, Joyce. Four hundred. That was my grocery money. You told me it was for squad expenses. You told me it would help Brooklyn see me."

Joyce yanked her arm out of my grip so hard I stumbled.

"Get off me!"

A few people in the front row of the bleachers turned to look. Joyce did not care. She stepped right up to my face.

"Friends with you? Are you insane?"

"Joyce..."

"Look in the mirror, Emily. Look at yourself for once." She laughed, and it was the ugliest sound I had ever heard. "You think I'd help you get on the squad? As if."

"Then why did you take my money?"

"Because you kept giving it to me." She shrugged. "That's on you."

Tears ran down my cheeks. I did not even try to wipe them.

"I'd rather die than let people think that we're friends," Joyce said. She took a step back and brushed off her arm where I had touched her, like I had left dirt on it. "Honestly..." No. "To be honest, I'm afraid your fatness might be contagious."

Somebody in the bleachers snorted.

"Joyce," Enzo said in a low voice.

"What? It's the truth." She pointed toward the exit. "Get out of here, Emily. Go home. Nobody wants you here."

I looked at Enzo one last time. I do not know what I was hoping for. Maybe for him to say something. Maybe for him to tell her to stop, the way Grayson did.

He did not say a word.

So I turned and ran.

I pushed through the side doors and into the cool night. The air smelled like cut grass and the ocean far away.

I did not stop running until I reached the concrete steps behind the science building. Then my legs gave out, and I sat down hard and buried my face in my hands.

"Stupid," I sobbed. "I'm so stupid. So, so stupid."

How did I not see it? Every time Joyce smiled at me. Every time she said she would help. Every dollar I sent her with a happy little heart emoji.

She had been laughing at me the whole time. They all had.

I cried Until my nose was running and my eyes were swollen and I could not breathe right. Behind me, I could hear the muffled roar of the crowd. The game had started. The world was going on without me, like it always did.

Footsteps crunched on the path.

I looked up, and a white handkerchief appeared in front of my face.

"Here," a voice said. "You look like you need this."

I blinked through my tears. A tall figure stood over me, blocking the streetlight. It took me a second to see his face.

Golden-brown hair. Blue eyes. A Westfield warm-up jacket.

Grayson Hawkins.

"You..." I sniffed. "Aren't you supposed to be in there? The game started."

"I'm not cleared to play until next week." He sat down on the step beside me, still holding out the handkerchief. "Paperwork. So I had some free time."

I took the handkerchief. It was soft and smelled like cedar, like him. I wiped my eyes and my nose and then felt bad for ruining it.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "I'll wash it."

"Keep it."

We sat there for a moment. The crowd roared again inside the gym. Somebody must have scored.

"Why are you helping me?" I asked.

He tilted his head. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because nobody does." I twisted the handkerchief in my hands. "You stood up to Brooklyn in front of everybody. Now you're out here with me instead of in there with them. You don't even know me."

Grayson was quiet. Then he laughed, soft and low, like I had said something funny.

"Helping you," he said. "That's what you think this is?"

"Isn't it?"

He turned to face me. The streetlight caught his eyes, and for a second they looked almost sad.

"You don't recognize me, do you?"