Reasons I Fell for the Funny Fat Friend

by Ann, Becca

  “Okay, you have to hold this ‘cause you’re taller. I’m not tiring my arm out for you.”

  Why do I keep laughing at her? It’s not like she’s being funny. And I’m not normally a nervous laugher. Huh…

  “Hello?” She waves the umbrella and the rain splashes down my back.

  “Sorry,” I say grabbing it from her. “I got this, so you have to hold this.” I stick the gas can in her hand. She jerks back when I touch her.

  Maybe she’s a germ-a-phobe.

  “How gentlemanly of you,” she jokes. Crap, should I have carried both?

  She starts giggling and swinging the gas can as we walk, so I don’t feel as bad about it.

  “You don’t live around here, do you?” I’m horrible at small talk.

  “Nah. I was at the library and missed the bus, so I decided to walk to the next stop. I hate waiting.”

  Duh, Brody. “Guess I should’ve figured that out on my own, since you were carrying a library book.”

  She giggles. “I was going to say that, but thought since I don’t really know you that well, it would come out all rude and stuff.”

  She shivers, and I adjust the umbrella, trying to move closer without touching her. “I got a thick skin. You could say anything, and it wouldn’t offend me.”

  “Hmm…” Her eyebrows waggle up and down. “I think I’m going to accept that challenge.”

  A stupid grin forms on my face. “Go right ahead.”

  Another laugh. This girl laughs a lot. And makes me laugh too, even though nothing is funny. At least it’s not uncomfortable.

  “I’ve never been encouraged to be rude or nosy before,” she says.

  “Nosy?”

  “Well, since I don’t really know you, what I’m about to say will not only offend you, but sound like I’m shoving my big face where it doesn’t belong.”

  Whoa, she already has something on her mind? That was quick thinking. “What is it?”

  “Nah, I’m not really a rude person. Better keep this comment to myself.”

  I shrug, trying to make it seem like I don’t care, though it’s kind of driving me crazy. “Guess you weren’t up for the challenge.” I grin.

  “Guess not.” Her face turns toward mine, her mouth in one of those evil smiles that girls do. “And reverse psychology doesn’t work on me.”

  Man, this girl is frustrating. Now I’m uncomfortable and dyin’ to know what kind of stuff she thinks about me.

  “Come on, just say it.”

  “I think I’d feel better if I told you something personal about me before I make a personal assumption about you.”

  Huh? “Is that an invitation for me to ask you something I don’t know about you?”

  She nods. “But don’t make it something stupid, like what my favorite color is.”

  “It’s yellow.” Whoa. That just popped right out.

  Her eyes bulge. “How’d you know that?”

  I rub my buzzed head with my free hand. “You said it once in class. Well, signed it.”

  “I did?”

  I nod. Why is a discussion over the color yellow such a big deal?

  “Huh.” She cocks her head to the side as her cheeks flush. “So… pick something you don’t know then.”

  Way to put me on the spot. I’m still trying to figure out what is on her mind. I do pay attention to her in class, and I guess the conversation today is the only one that pops in my head, and I blurt it out before I can think about it.

  “You said you don’t get asked out a lot.”

  “Uh-huh…”

  “Well, have you ever been on a date?”

  “Nope.”

  Wow, not even a pause. She doesn’t even sound disappointed about it. I repeat: bizarre girl.

  “Okay, that was pretty personal. Your turn.” I nudge her, forgetting her normal reaction to touch until she pulls back, soaking the arm on her jacket. She swipes off the rain drops and tucks back under the umbrella. I really gotta try not to touch her.

  Why am I touching her?

  I clear my throat instead of nudging her to continue.

  “Okay, but just warning you,” she says, rubbing her fingers across her cheek, “you did ask for it.”

  “Dude, it must be bad if it comes with a disclaimer.” Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than havin’ the hots for Quynn…

  “I think liking your brother’s ex is pretty bad.” She says it before I can stop her. “Unless I’m reading things wrong, but I’m an unusually perceptive person.”

  She’s not lookin’ at me, but I can feel the heat coming off her face. Yeah, she’s perceptive all right. Or I’m just completely transparent.

  “We’re here,” she says, jerking her head forward.

  It’s amazing how your feet can lead to you to the right place without a conscious thought. I hand her the umbrella and take the gas can to the attendant, who fills it up in silence.

  Reason 3: You know how to make awkward, less awkward

  “I totally messed up, didn’t I?” Hayley folds her arms right under her chest making her cleavage way more noticeable. Did she do that on purpose?

  I adjust the umbrella and tighten my grip on the gas can. Yeah, I’m a gentleman the second time around. But still a guy since I just checked out her boobs. “What are you talkin’ about?”

  “Well, we were joking around, then my mouth shoots off you’re in love with Quynn. I ruined our friendly banter.”

  She pouts and I have to keep my eyes from wandering down to her chest again.

  “You didn’t ruin anything.” ‘Cause, really she didn’t. “You just caught me off guard.”

  “I’m wrong, aren’t I?” She drops her arms. Good. I can’t really concentrate with cleavage staring me in the face. She slaps her forehead. “Fart, I’m usually right about these things.”

  I bark out laughing. “Did you really just say fart?”

  She laughs too. “Yes.”

  “I thought girls avoided that word around guys.”

  “We don’t avoid the word… just the action.”

  I have to bend over and set the gas can on the ground so I don’t drop it. Seriously, where did this girl come from?

  “What?” she asks through pretend offended giggles. “That’s my four letter F-word.”

  After I control myself, I stand upright and grab the gas can again. “I think I like you.” Yeah, I just said that. Hopefully she knows what I mean by it.

  “Ah, so we’re officially friends now because I said ‘fart’.” Good, she knows what I mean. “That’s gotta be the most random and awesome thing ever.” She smiles and starts walking. Since I’m slacking on the umbrella covering thing, I guess it doesn’t matter if we get wet.

  And I’m goin’ to be bold. This girl’s easy to talk to and she doesn’t seem to judge me too harshly on liking someone out of my league. And who used to date someone who shares the same bloodline as I do. “Well, you weren’t wrong.”

  “Huh?”

  “You weren’t wrong about Quynn. I’m pretty much screwed.”

  “Thought so.” She doesn’t say anything else. And she’s not all ‘I knew it!’ or ‘That’s so typical’ or anything like I thought she’d be.

  She’s just cool.

  “You’re not going to tell me to forget about her, or call me a perv?”

  “What?” Her eyebrows pull together, and she gets a cute little wrinkle just above her nose. Whoa, did I just think she’s cute? Nah, just her expression’s cute. She shakes her head a little. “Why would you think that?”

  “‘Cause that’s what normal people would say.”

  “When have I ever given you the impression I’m normal?”

  We laugh… again. Dude. “You’ve got a point.”

  “Well, honestly, I don’t think it’s that big of a deal.” She throws me a half smile and a shrug. “I mean, you guys are friends, right?”

  “Yeah…”

  “And everything between her and Gabe are way over since he
jabbed another girl with his pleasure stick, right?”

  She just said that. I’m halfway between laughin’ and shock. “That’s one way of puttin’ it.”

  “See, it’s just two single people who like each other. No biggie.”

  I snort. It’s a biggie for me and Quynn. As I said before, it’s just… weird. Like she thinks of me as her brother. “You make it sound like it’s not against any ‘rules’ or shit like that.”

  A slight cringe crosses her face, but it’s gone before I can tell if it was actually there. “Well, you’re not the only guy who fantasizes about her.”

  I open my mouth to shoot off a defensive comment about how I hate when people think I’m just the stereotypical horn-dog, but she stops me by nearly shouting.

  “BUT, you are the only one who’s not, like, nasty about it.”

  “Huh?”

  “Like, guys who just wanna jump her bones look like they’re about to smack her butt every time she bends over.”

  My gut clenches. Maybe I am the stereotypical horn-dog.

  “But you’re not like that.”

  “I’m not?”

  “No. You look at her more like you care about her. Like you’re sorry for what’s happened to her, and that your brother was the cause of all the crap she’s had to deal with lately. You look at her like she’s your friend.”

  “She is my friend.”

  “Well, then there you go.”

  Silence. But it’s not crazy awkward. It’s kinda nice. I haven’t told anyone about my impossible dilemma, thinkin’ anyone in their right mind would call me a creep or a bad brother, and then the word would travel faster than I could take two steps. But here she is, not judgin’ me.

  Yeah, I like this girl.

  We’re at the car, so I dump the gas in the tank, spilling some on my shoes, but they’re soaked anyway from the puddles we’ve had to wade through. Hayley holds the umbrella over my head, and the rain picks up. She has to shout when she talks again.

  “Well, thanks for keeping my book dry. Hopefully it stays that way.” She laughs.

  “D’ya think I’m a jerk or something?” I smirk. “I’m goin’ to give you a ride home.”

  “Well, I didn’t want to assume…”

  I shut the gas cover and pop the trunk. She follows me to the back of the car, and I grab her book and toss the gas can back in. I better be a gentleman and open her door. Mom would kill me if she found out I took a girl home and didn’t open the door for her. Plus, girls like that stuff, right?

  She hands me the umbrella and plops into the front seat. So not graceful or flowery. But like she’s a kid about to be taken to Disneyland. I can’t help but goofy grin at her.

  “Uh, you can shut the door. I’m in, and I’ll watch my fingers.”

  Oh right. Idiot moment. Two seconds later I try to close the stupid umbrella before soakin’ myself, and toss it in the backseat splashing both me and Hayley with the excess water.

  “Whoops. Sorry.”

  She giggles. “You didn’t get my book, so you’re off the hook… this time.” She pauses. “Hey, that kind of rhymed! Oh, that did too! ‘Rhyme’ and ‘time’. Ha! I’m on a roll.”

  I wish I could come up with a witty response. You know, something to rhyme with roll. But my mind is still trying to play catch up with this girl’s sense of humor. She’s definitely weird, but it’s not a bad weird.

  And now it’s been about seven seconds since she’s said something, and that’s way past the point of making a quip. So now I have to sit here and chuckle like a tongue-tied idiot.

  “So, uh… where do you live?”

  “Just a few blocks South of Parkrose.”

  I nod, pull out, and head toward our high school. Her hand goes straight for the radio.

  “You don’t care do you?” she asks as she smacks the preset stations.

  “Depends on what you pick.”

  “Oh, I know you’re a fan of Kesha.”

  Ugh. “If you make me listen to that pop shit, you’re walkin’ the rest of the way.” I smile, but it disappears when I see her do that slight cringe again. But she laughs it away. I think I may be going a little nuts.

  “Neon Trees?” she asks as she lands on the station playing the band.

  “That one’s okay.”

  “Good.” She turns up the volume and starts singing along with them. Wow, she’s good. And ballsy. I’ve been on dates before and not once did the girl ever start belting out with the music. Not that this is a date or anythin’.

  The song ends, and she starts flicking through the stations again.

  “We’re okay, right?”

  That came out of nowhere. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t we be?”

  “I still feel bad about my big mouth.”

  “You actually made me feel kind of better with it, ya know?”

  “Really?”

  “Yup. But not like it’s going to change anything.” I turn on the blinker. “She’s way out of my league. And she doesn’t think of me like that.”

  “Hmm…”

  My neck pops as I look at her. Her feet are on the dashboard—she’s slipped off her shoes and I didn’t even notice—and she’s tapping to the beat on her knees.

  “What?”

  “What, what?” She smiles.

  “What was that ‘hmm’ for?”

  “Just thinking.”

  “About…?” I hate when people don’t just spit it out. At least I’m straight forward.

  “Well…” She goes for the radio again. “I told you I’m a perceptive person, and I don’t think you’re as hopeless as you think you are.”

  I roll my hand in circles so she elaborates. She laughs.

  “Look, I’m good at this kind of stuff—setting people up. Ask any of my guy friends.”

  “You wanna set me up with my brother’s ex?”

  She shrugs. “Kind of. Like, if you want some pointers and stuff like that, I think I can help.”

  Is she for real? Part of me wants to laugh the offer off, stick it in a box and chuck it into the Willamette. But the other part—probably the stupid, hopeful part—wonders if she could really make it happen.

  Quynn has always been a fantasy. An unattainable source of sexy-ass girl who used to sleep with my brother—which I try not to think about—and a complicated friendship scrunched together in a ball of ‘I so wish I could kiss you and not get slapped in the face for it’. But what if she actually became more than that?

  “What did you mean when you said I’m not hopeless?”

  She finishes singing the chorus to the song. “I think she really likes you too. She just doesn’t know it yet.” She sings some more. “Or she’s holding back ‘cause she’s not sure how you feel. But I betcha if you play your cards right, when you let loose, she’ll be thinking very differently about you, Brody.”

  Did my stomach just do a little twist? I can’t tell if it’s because of what she said, or how she said it.

  “Turn here. I’m the second house on the right. You can pull into the driveway. My mom works nights.” She pauses and laughs. “I’m rhyming again. Geez!”

  I put the car in park and reach back for her umbrella. She tightens and recoils against the door when I brush against her arm.

  Definite germ-a-phobe.

  “Well, thanks for the ride. And let me know about the other thing if you want.”

  I nod, not sure what else to do. I kind of want to give her a hug or something. But I have no idea why that sudden thought comes to me.

  “Uh, y-you’re welcome.” You sound like a moron, Brody. Say something else to make you sound less like a moron. “Maybe next time we talk you’ll be rhyming words with ‘fart’.

  Nice one, dude. Very smooth.

  “Start, mart, cart…” She laughs. “Bart, heart, dart, part, tart…” She laughs again, really loud. “And don’t forget shart!”

  Her face goes a little red, but I’m not sure if it’s ‘cause she’s embarrassed for saying that, or if it
’s ‘cause we’re both cracking up so much the windows fog.

  Yup, I don’t think it’s possible to feel awkward for long around this girl.

  She puts the book on her head and opens the umbrella outside the door. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, Brody.”

  There goes that stomach twist again.

  “See ya.”

  Just like that, she’s gone, and I’m driving back home, wondering what to do with her offer.

  Hayley’s good at just about everything she does, so maybe she could help me get the girl.

  Am I a lunatic for considering it?

  Yes, you are.

  But then Quynn pops up. Right there in the forefront of my mind. From the long blonde hair to her flip-flops and I’m there with her, cradling her against my chest and all that other romantic junk too cheesy to share with anyone.

  I pretty much blow at getting the girl. I think my longest relationship lasted a week when Lily Peters labeled me as her make-out partner in an attempt to make Ian Dunn jealous. That sucked ass ‘cause I actually liked the girl. But oh well.

  Since then I’ve never really been involved with anyone. Few dates here and there, but nothing serious. And Quynn will definitely be lookin’ for something serious. She’s a major commitment girl, especially after what happened with Gabe. I kind of want to do that for her. She deserves someone who’s not my douche brother. But how do I get her to think I’m for real?

  Hayley’s offer is sounding better and better. Do I even have her number in my phone? I think she put it in there during one of our classes together, but I can’t remember why. And I don’t look at my phone often enough to know for sure if she’s in my contacts.

  “There you are!” Mom says as I trudge in the house. “I told you not to be long.”

  “I would’ve been faster if I didn’t run out of gas.”

  Her face goes from annoyance to ‘my bad’ in two seconds. Dad laughs from the recliner.

  “Why didn’t you call?” Mom asks, her tone now all gooey, like the one moms use when they wanna say, ‘You poor baby!’

  “It wasn’t a big deal.” I shrug and slump into the couch. “Gas station was only about a block away.”

  “But it was raining.” She frowns, and I think she may start strokin’ my hair or something. Ugh.