Page 2 of The Status Situation

Stifling my laughter, I turn back toward Chase. “Oh, he’s not interested in me. Trust me.”

“No? And how could you possibly know that? Did you ask him out already or something?”

Pressing my lips together, I quickly try to think of a way to explain this to him so that he will understand. “Well… we’re batting for the same baseball team.”

Chase scowls. “What does baseball have to do with anything?”

I bend at the waist, placing my hands flat against the counter so that I can look him in the eyes. “Same team, Chase.”

Unfortunately, his scowl only deepens. “I heard you. Still doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake. He doesn’t like women,” I exclaim, throwing up my hands. “And here I was trying to be discreet.”

“Oh,” Chase breathes, his eyes going wide in realization. He looks at Darius again as if seeing him for the first time. “Well, whatever works for him.”

I’m shocked at how easily he accepts it, but in a good way. Not a lot of people Chase’s age approve of Darius’ lifestyle, and that just adds yet another reason as to why Chase is my favorite.

Because Darius is always talking about how he gets shit for being gay all the time, I often feel the need to remind him that not everyone looks down on him for it. I do think that part of the problem is that he doesn’t look gay, or rather, he doesn’t flaunt it. It’s hard for people to tell, so women are always falling for his good looks and charm. Men start to see him as the competition when, in reality, they are the ones he’s trying to get attention from.

At least he’s getting attention, though. I wish I could say the same for myself.

“Hear that, Darius?” I call out to my best friend. “Chase approves.”

Darius looks away from his phone screen and up at us. “Approves of what?”

I smirk but shake my head. “Oh, never mind.”

Deciding that our conversation is more interesting than whatever he was doing on his phone, he pockets the device and joins us at the counter.

“So, who can we set you up with then?”

My brows pinch together as my gaze shoots back toward Chase, his question catching me off guard. “No one. I don’t want a boyfriend,” I say instinctively.

“Bullshit,” Chase barks back at the same time that Darius snorts.

They both know I’m lying. I know it, and they know that I know it. There’s no way I’m getting out of this awkward and ridiculous conversation now.

“Okay, fine. Maybe I do want a boyfriend, but wanting one doesn’t fix the problem.”

They continue to stare at me, their eyes practically burning holes into my face, as if waiting for me to tell them what this ‘so-called’ problem is. With a sigh, I gesture toward my body, or more specifically, my size.

I’ve never been a small girl, but I gained even more weight in college and haven’t been able to lose it. No matter what I do, nothing helps, and that’s been very frustrating. It’s a self-esteem killer for sure, but it also kills my chances at the whole boyfriend thing. It’s also not something I like to talk about.

When I don’t respond right away, Chase’s brows crease in confusion. “I don’t get it. You’re single, and you’ve got the looks, Maria, especially those striking blue eyes of yours. Where’s the problem?”

Darius, who knows about my image issues, speaks before I get the chance to do so myself. “She thinks she’s too fat for a boyfriend.”

I visibly wince, and my cheeks flame from embarrassment as I try to focus my attention anywhere else. I don’t want or need to see the pity that’s undoubtedly in their eyes. I see it enough every time I look in the mirror.

I’ve had boyfriends before, not many but a few, and it wasn’t long before they attempted to change me into what they wanted me to be by having me work out and watch what I eat. I tried going to the gym a few times to appease them, tried fitting into the mold they all seemed to want me to fit into, but the relationships never lasted. So, neither did my motivation to work out. Maybe if I had kept it up, I’d be skinny by now with a boyfriend on my arm, but what’s the point in dwelling on all that now?

“Well, that’s just foolish,” Chase grumbles.

“It’s not foolish, Chase,” I mutter, running my finger along the wooden countertop. “It’s the truth.”

He covers my hand with his, stopping my finger and drawing my attention back up to his face. His eyes narrow at me. “You should be proud of your body, Maria.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Darius chimes in.