by Erin Havoc
His Curvy Treat
Curvy Holidays Series
ERIN HAVOC
01
* * *
JESSICA
I’m ridiculously overdressed.
No, not like when you’re going to a party and you rent a gorgeous, mermaid dress with a low cleavage covered in Swarovski rocks and you get there and everybody else is on jeans and t-shirts.
No, I’m literally overdressed.
“I told you,” my friend Dana sing-songs as she slips her arm through the crook of my elbow. “You’re stuck in the 2000s, Jess.”
I snort, “This costume is not from the 2000s, Dana,” I motion up and down to my yellow hazmat suit. “The series is just a couple of years old and it was super famous.”
“You should have known better, that’s all I’m saying,” she shrugs her naked shoulder. “A series ‘a couple of years old’ is already ancient in Internet-time. I know you’re trying to find your clique, Jess, but Halloween is not the GeekCon or whatever.”
“The series is not even that nerdy, Dana. I can’t believe you haven’t watched Breaking Bad,” I curl my nose, but I know who I’m dealing with. Dana’s two years older than me and she was a Junior when I was a Freshman. Both of us are suckers for Chemistry, which is why I would expect her to have watched Breaking Bad, but she’s not much of a Netflix-and-chill kind of person.
I am. Which explains why I’m the only woman in this place not wearing a short twist of some kind of costume. All of them are here — sexy nurse, sexy cat, sexy cop. Dana is one of the sexy cats — or pussycats, as she likes to put it — and you can only point that out because of the combo fake-ears and fake-tail. Her tail is so short though you’d think a car had run over this cat of hers. She’s wearing a mini-dress that hugs her body, off-shoulder and low cut. Her skin is prickling with the end-of-October chill, but she’s confident enough about this costume not to let anyone know she’s shivering.
I am, on the other hand, cozy in this t-shirt and hazmat suit combo I got. I’m comfy in my pair of black Converses and the gas mask atop my head is not bothering me. The only thing that is bothering me is the fact that I was blindsided about this party.
“I really thought this costume would be the bomb in here,” I tell Dana as we walk past some guys in a corridor dressed in an assortment of sexual costumes — the kinds of Twister-board-glued-to-their-shorts and dick-in-the-box. Not very creative. They wolf-whistle, but I don’t even care to look back. I know they’re not whistling at me.
“I know, darling,” Dana waves her fingers over her shoulder as she looks back at the guys behind us. “Let this be a lesson. You should listen to me more.”
I sigh dramatically as we keep on sauntering around the place, arm in arm. It’s past nine and the electronic music makes my body vibrate. It’s not that loud so people can’t talk, but I can only hear Dana because she’s right next to me.
“I mean, okay, it’s a Halloween party,” I wave around us. “But it’s the office’s Halloween party. Isn’t there a dressing code or something?”
Dana had nailed an internship with Allen Pharmaceuticals weeks after I first met her. Now she’s graduated and works full-time and it was my turn to nail the internship. Allen Pharmaceuticals is one of the largest companies in the trade and I’m not wasting my chance. If I work hard and prove to them I’m as good an employee as I’m a student, I’m sure I’ll get an offer as soon as I’m graduated.
“There is a dressing code for the day job, Jess,” Dana shoots me an indulgent glance as if I was being naïve. Which I in fact am.
I’m the one who dressed up as Jesse Pinkman from Breaking Bad after all when Dana told me I should dress sexy, not fun. She warned me no one would understand the costume. That I would look like a regular chemist. I had believed she was underestimating our colleagues but, bite me, she had been right. Up to this moment, just one person recognized the costume, with an “Oh, are you that guy from Breaking Bad?”, which is already good enough for me.
But it’s all right. My goal for this party is to make some acquaintances, get to know new people. The fact that I’m the only person in a non-sexual costume may work as an ice-breaker at least. I’m not trying to be sexy. I’m not even sure I can do that.
One thing I’m sure of is that I’m not here to find a date.
I’m not exactly within the standards — which is clear by the hazmat suit when every other girl is in a dress. But I’m in the bigger size of things, and I’m okay with that. I like my body, I do. On the top of my twenty-years-old, I have already wasted good years of my life trying to fix something now I know is not broken. It’s not wrong being a size fourteen. I’m not wrong for liking to dye the tips of my hair and change the color every fortnight. I’m not wrong for liking to watch series instead of going to parties, and for leaning toward sneakers when I’d look better in heels.
I’m done suffering for this kind of thing. Done with nodding and smiling when I’m told my face is so beautiful, I should lose some weight. Done with starving just to fit in somebody else’s standards that only hurt me.
I’ve kissed some guys, yeah. But I’m not stupid — on the opposite, I am the top of my class. So it wasn’t hard for me to do the Math and notice those guys flirting with me were just doing so to win a bet or to laugh at me behind my back with their friends. Yeah, it had hurt when I was a teenager, still trying to fit in. But I am over it.
I am over trying to find a date and trying to convince others I’m pretty. It makes no sense trying to convince others to like you. Either they do or they don’t.
Which is why I ignored Dana’s suggestions on dressing sexy and dressed like I wanted to.
I let the thought sink in. That’s the reason I have insisted on that costume. Because I like to have fun more than I like to try to catch other people’s attention. The only attention I want for myself is because of my brain. Hell yeah. I’m going to nail this internship and get a full-time job. That’s what this whole thing is about.
Dana is mumbling something about someone across the room — some girl in some dress she doesn’t like. I’m not following it both because of my lack of interest in gossip and for how low she’s speaking. I can’t hear her over the music as we walk to the bar and order two margaritas.
I nod along as I look at my beautiful friend — tall, blond and skinny as I’ve never been. She’s the perfect opposite of me, short, dark-haired and curvy, but Dana’s always been a good friend. She’s the one who told me about the internship after all.
Dana greets someone behind me and leans in to comment on some guy’s ass. But my eyes are glued somewhere else now.
I haven’t even started to drink. It’s not possible that I’m imagining it.
But there’s a guy across the room staring straight at us. I can tell it’s a man because of how tall he is, and how broad his shoulders are, but that’s all I can see since he’s also dressed in a yellow hazmat suit. I can’t even see his face because his gas mask is down.
My throat dries up.
No way.
There’s a guy dressed just like me! What are the chances?
I smile at him, hoping to catch his attention and maybe make some small talk. He’s probably staring at Dana, whose back is turned to him, so I think he’s checking her ass out. No one would check me out, that’s for sure. But I try to catch his attention either way. Maybe I will even make a friend after all.
02
* * *
DANIEL
Every year since I sat down in the CEO chair, I throw this very same Halloween party for my employees. It has been five years now and I am still not over the feeling of how the hell these people manage not to freeze their asses off in those clothes. It happens every single time.
There’
s no dressing code tonight. No, I save this kind of thing for the day jobs, where I expect my employees to be on their prime. But Halloween and Christmas parties are for loosening up.
Yes, of course, I want my employees happy and having fun. But mostly, I want to see them in the wild. I’m a busy man, and I never have the time to get to know my employees. It’s always a surprise when we have some problem — harassment drives me crazy every single time. Which is why I threw these parties — to get to know who are the weak links and who has the potentials so I can keep a closer eye on them.
Nobody really knows me — the company is too big for that. So it’s really easy to walk among them and overhear their conversations and make small talk. Sometimes a girl will approach me, more often than not, but I’m not here for a date.
Or at least that wasn’t my initial plan.
I have nothing against dating employees. There’s no policy against it in the company. My problem is with dating itself. I’m pushing forty years old, so I know I should already be starting a family and all of that, but believe me or not, there’s a rotten side to being filthy rich.
One-night stands are all right. Ever since I gave up on dating, I focused on them. It’s been a while I don’t even do that — I’m usually too busy with being the head of the family company. But one-night stands do the job. Everybody has fun and I don’t get a leech feeding off my hard-worked money.
When I was younger and innocent, I dated several women. I wasn’t lucky. Without exception, all of them tried to take money out of me somehow. Some robbed stuff from me, some expected me to shower them in jewels. One showed up pregnant and threatened to indict me on child abandonment if I didn’t register the baby as my own. That one had been a punch below the waist because I’ve always been crazy about being a dad. Unfortunately for her, DNA tests are a thing and the baby wasn’t mine.
So I’m a man fully committed to my business. My grandfather founded it and my father was CEO after him. I worked hard and studied until I could prove myself worthy to my overbearing father. It had taken years but here I am, CEO, rich and making the company grow evermore.
Of course, I’d like someone to walk this path with me. Of course, I want to build a family. But I’m skeptic after too many blows. If love’s ever going to find me, it must sweep me off my feet.
Tonight was supposed to be like every other Halloween party I had thrown here. I’d overhear gossip and keep an eye out for aggressive guys and I’d do small talk to judge how the employees liked to work for me so far.
But ever since she walked in, I can’t take my eyes from her.
This woman is literally the one other person in the party who’s not wearing a sexual version of some costume. She strolls in, arm in arm with some friend — who is wearing a dress, heels, and ears. I’m not sure if the ears are cat-like or dog-like. And I don’t care. Because the goddess on her arm is dressed exactly like me.
She pushed the gas mask atop her head, and her hair curls over her shoulders, the tips dyed blue, the color stark over the yellow of the suit. Her ample chest is stretching the material and I can just watch as she sways her round hips to the bar and sits atop a stool. She has the face of an angel, but her body makes me think of sin.
And that because she’s wearing a freaking hazmat suit.
Something ignites deep inside me. There’s heat, yes, because it’s undeniable this woman is hot. The suit hugs her curves without showing an inch of her skin, and it’s sexy in the weirdest way. But there’s something else. I don’t know what. All I know is that I need to talk to her. I need to stand next to her.
I need to touch her.
Her eyes meet mine and that heat in the pit of my stomach flares brighter. I stride to her, sure that all of my plans for tonight have just flown out of the window.
03
* * *
JESSICA
The man is freaking tall. With every step he takes, I’m more sure about his height and frame. Damn, who the hell is that?
I must be staring because Dana stops talking and looks over her shoulder at the same time he halts by us. I expect him to greet Dana but instead, he’s looking straight at me.
“Science, bitch,” he calls as he pulls his mask out.
There are so many feelings inside me now I can’t even enumerate them all.
I grin. He does recognize my costume, and that’s amazing. I can’t believe there’s another person dressed like me in here!
Also, my stomach makes a somersault before it drops.
The man is handsome.
No, cross that.
He is the most handsome person God has ever put on this earth.
Too much?
Nope. I’m speaking the truth and the whole truth.
It’s ridiculous. He towers over me, and he is damn wide. He must be ripped under that suit. Dark hair slick back and a pair of stark blue eyes that glint down at me and me only. There’s a slight stubble on his chin and his face is perfection.
I’m still grinning like a fool when Dana elbows me.
“I can’t believe someone understood my costume,” I blurt out and chuckle.
He smiles, a set of straight, white teeth. “Right? I can’t believe someone thought the same I did. Are you Jesse?” He motions with the gas mask to my Converses.
“I am,” I stretch my leg and take my time giving him a once-over until I reach his shoe-covered feet. “I guess you’re Walter.”
He grins, pulling a pair of glasses from inside his vest and sliding them on. “I am the one who knocks.”
Damn, he looks good on glasses.
We chuckle at each other until the barman thuds two margaritas on top of the bar. He looks up at the hot guy dressed like Walter and raises his brows in wait.
“Whiskey on rocks, please,” he asks, and the barman walks away. He turns his blue eyes back to me. “I thought no one would recognize it because it’s been a couple of years the last season came out.”
“Yeah, but I honestly thought it was too big a series for people not to remember,” I shrug and I’m amazed at how easy it is to speak to him. He’s so freaking handsome and yet, I don’t even stutter.
“Right? People forget things so quickly these days. Having so much to watch has its good and its bad side.”
“True to that,” I bring my margarita to my lips and watch Dana picking hers up and stepping away. Her eyes are glinting with something I don’t quite recognize as she winks.
“We’ll talk later,” she mutters and leaves without another word. She doesn’t even speak to the guy.
My stomach churns. I wait for him to bid his farewell and go after her. I mean, that’s why he came, right? He was checking her ass… Wasn’t he?
But he sits down on the place she’s left empty as if it was only natural. As if Dana had never even been here.
“I honestly thought more people would be dressed like this because of El Camino,” he goes on and a moment later the barman brings him his whiskey. “Have you watched it yet?”
I chuckle, “Of course I have. The very same day it came out.”
He laughs out loud, and it’s the warmest sound I have ever heard. I can hear his voice clear above the music as if our surroundings have grown dim.
“Me too,” he sips from his whiskey. “I really like it that they made a movie instead of a whole new season.”
We talk about Breaking Bad, and then we go on about series and it goes to movies. Before I know it, we’re talking about goals and he’s nodding at me going on about becoming a great chemist. It’s the oddest thing how his eyes light me up.
Who is this man?
How is it possible that I can just speak my heart out to him without even knowing his name? I pour my truths on him and tell him about how I am studying hard to get a full-time job as soon as I graduate, and he nods me on and asks about college and what else I do in life. And I just answer him.
He tells me about his parents, and I tell him about mine. He has a sister, and I’m an only daughte
r. He’s single, I am too. For a moment I even forget we’re at the firm’s Halloween party and we don’t know each other’s names.
I’m still at the second margarita. I haven’t noticed how many whiskeys he’s had. Time just passes through us without us taking notice of it.
His knee is touching mine, and there’s a steady flow of heat radiating from where we’re touching. It’s innocent and silly, but it’s making me super aware of us sitting here, talking like we’ve known each other forever.
“I don’t think socks should be considered a Christmas gift,” he said and I don’t even know how we reached that subject. “I think a person loses their honor when they give socks.”
“Or any kind of underwear, really. That’s something you’re supposed to buy for yourself. If you really want to give someone socks, give them a Gift Card.”
“Exactly!” He slams a hand on the bar and grins. I can’t help but chuckle at him. His gaze is on my lips and his smile doesn’t falter. “You have a lovely laugh, you know?”
His words make me blush wildly. I straighten up, “That’s an odd compliment. But thank you. I’m not rejecting compliments.”
He snorts, “You must hear compliments all the freaking time. You need not humble it down.”
“I am not,” I laugh again and his eyes go to my mouth once more. I feel like he actually likes the way I laugh even if it’s hard to believe. “Who would humble this kind of thing down?”
“You, apparently, because I can’t believe you’re not showered with attention all the time. You’re gorgeous.”
I sober up. This can’t be serious. A small bell rings inside my head telling me to back off of that subject. For a guy like him to be complimenting me? It has to be some kind of bet. I look around us, expecting to find a small group of men watching us. That’s usually how these things go. A guy approaches me and his friends watch.
