Curvy Girls Can’t Date Quarterbacks
Chapter One
Why was I taking a pregnancy test as a virgin? Oh yeah, my mom was literally insane.
I brought the stick with the words flashing not pregnant to the dining room where my mom, dad, and brother sat with their ridiculous grapefruit breakfasts. It landed with a satisfying clack next to the pile of papers my mom was grading.
“Can we please move on?” I asked, hands on hips. “I’ve already told you I’m not dating anyone.”
She pushed her reading glasses up her nose and held the out so the results could come into focus before sighing and setting it on the table. “Rory, you’ve missed three periods in a row and you don’t want to go on birth control. And you’ve gained ten pounds in the last three months. You can’t blame me for being suspicious.”
Dad nearly choked on his grapefruit and swallowed a big gulp of water, choking more.
My brother looked way too pleased at all of this. As a boy, a junior in high school, and ridiculously fit runner, he usually got off easy from all of Mom’s “self-improvement” rampages. From college plans to weight loss, I’d heard it all.
Sometimes, having a mom who was also a health teacher sucked. Hard. “Glad to know you’re keeping track of my cycles, Mom.”
“Someone needs to.” She drew a big red smiley face on a paper next to a fifty percent. For Mom’s class, that was a pretty good grade.
“Mom,” I said. “Look at me.” I gestured at my size 1X school uniform and the required navy blue socks that strained at my calves. “I’m a virgin. I’ve told you that. So unless an angel shows up tonight and tells me I’m carrying the second son of God, you can give the pregnancy stuff a rest.”
Dad nearly choked again, but Mom ignored him and gave me an almost abashed smile as she held the stick back out to me. “Okay, but I made you an appointment at the doctor to get checked out. They may want to do a blood test to make extra sure you’re not pregnant.”
I turned my eyes toward the ceiling, contemplating my next move. Knowing arguing would be futile, just as it had been when she’d presented me with the test this morning, I gave in. “When is the appointment?”
“How do you know I already scheduled it?”
My dad, brother, and I each gave her a look, and she glanced up from her papers to show a sheepish smile. “This morning, at eight.”
“So, I’m missing first period,” I complained. Not that I was super into math, but I could have aced any test on the back of Beckett Langley’s head. “I thought you were worried about me missing periods?”
She ignored my comment completely. “I’ll talk to Mr. Aris, and Dr. Edmonson will have you done in time for you to be back for health class!” She flashed me a grin, standing up with her plate. “Now, hurry up and eat your breakfast. You’re going to be late.”
Keeping my grumblings to myself, I sat in front of half a grapefruit and thought of all the things I could do with this stupid spoon that didn’t involve shoving the bitter pink flesh down my throat. Smashing this pregnancy test was high on the list. As was wiping the smirk from my brother’s face.
I glared at him. “Don’t you have a jock convention to be at?”
His smirk grew wider as he came and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Love you, sis. Glad you’re not pregnant. But then again, I would have made a great uncle.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, stabbing my spoon into the grapefruit. “Love you, too.” At least if I was driving myself to the doctor’s appointment, I could make a quick fast food stop on the way and be rid of the evidence before I made it to school.
Dad wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I better get going too.” He stood and kissed my cheek. “Let me know how the appointment goes.”
“Sure,” I said, toying with the pulp at the end of my spoon. I tried a bite, but I just couldn’t stomach it.
Giving up on “breakfast,” I got up from the table. After slipping on my dress-code-compliant loafers, I grabbed my keys from the hooks by the door. Usually, I rode with Mom and Aiden, so I at least this appointment gave me the chance to get my car out on the road. A mix between sensible and sporty, my Audi was the coolest thing about me.
I hit the road and stopped at my favorite drive thru before going to my mandated appointment at RWE Medical.
I walked through the sliding doors and gave Betty, the receptionist a pained smile.
“Mom sent you in again?” she asked.
“Yup,” I said, switching my paper bag to the other hand so I could sign in.
“An eight-a-m-er, no less. Nice.” She pushed some curly hair over her shoulder and typed in my name and date of birth without having to ask for it. “Sign this, and the nurse will be out to grab ya soon.”
I scribbled my name on the scuffed digital pad and sat down in one of the plush leather chairs. Hints of breakfast wafted from the paper bag in my hand made my mouth water. The only other thing that made me drool this much was Beckett’s perfectly messy hair and his muscled shoulders. How he managed to look like a prep school god in his uniform while I looked like an overweight Mia Thermopolis—pre-princess makeover—I had no idea.
I got the breakfast sandwich out of my bag and took a bite, savoring the sausage. My eyes slid closed. So much better than a grapefruit.
So much better.
“Hey Aurora,” a voice said beside me.
A sexy voice.
I gulped down my bite and brushing biscuit crumbs from my lips turned to see the deepest hazel eyes.
Beckett Langley knew my name?
“Beckett,” I breathed. Then coughed and said his name at a normal tone like I wasn’t a complete lovestruck psychopath. “Beckett. What—um, what are you doing here?”
Okay, not a perfect second attempt, but closer.
He sank back in the leather chair next to mine and held up his arm sporting a black wrist brace. “Fell wrong in practice. Coach wants an x-ray before he’ll let me play again.”
“Oh,” I said, completely distracted by him. Now that I had looked away from his eyes, I couldn’t stop taking in the rest of him. The tight Emerson Academy t-shirt and mesh shorts that hung on his muscular legs. The dampness of his hair that made it look almost black.
“What about you?” he asked.
“Oh, um.” God, could I stop saying um? But then again, it was better than the whole pregnancy-test-missing-periods-virgin conversation we could be having...
“Rory?” Chloe said by the door. She was wearing Winnie the Pooh scrubs today, and I’d never been more grateful to see Pooh.
“That’s me,” I said, half to her and half to Beckett.
He gave me a two-finger salute. “See you in math tomorrow, Rory.”
I nearly choked on my saliva. He knew my name and that we were in math together? “I—um—yeah.”
I bunched up the paper bag with my food and stood up, straightening my shirt—and checking for stray crumbs.
As I walked to meet Chloe and go back for my appointment, I felt Beckett’s eyes on my back, and my heart in my throat.
