Page 16 of Curvy Girl for the Best Friend

Meg is looking up at me with her big blue eyes. She widens them so they look like puppy dog eyes and pouts as she begs. "It'll be so much fun! I promise you. All you ever do is work. You need to get out and live a little."

I sigh. Meg’s got me there. Ever since my dad died, all I've done is work. Of course, I do it to make ends meet, but I've also taken on extra shifts—as many as I can to keep busy.

My dad left me the little bungalow where I grew up. He was smart enough to make sure the house was completely paid off long ago, so it's not like I have a mortgage or rent to worry about. I just have to pay my electric bill and taxes and buy my food and necessities.

Most of what I'm earning now goes into a small savings account. I don't know what I'm saving up for. My dreams died the day my dad did. I just don't have the passion for anything I used to anymore.

I finish wiping down my table while Meg continues to flutter around me like a butterfly. "All the other waitresses are going," she adds. "Molly and Mary will be there. And even Chrissy."

I try not to wrinkle up my nose at the mention of Chrissy, though I can tell by Meg's face that she's not exactly thrilled Chrissy will be there either.

Chrissy acts like she's better than the rest of us and makes it clear every time she steps through the doors that she doesn't need this job. She's just doing it to make extra money before she goes to college.

Besides Chrissy, I get along well with all of my co-workers, especially Meg, who barnacled herself onto me the moment I walked in the door. She decided I needed a friend and applied herself generously to that role.

Growing up as an only child, I didn’t have a lot of friends. It was always just my dad and me. I’m a little on the quiet side. I'm not exactly shy, but I never saw the need to be the life ofthe party. I was the kind of girl who could talk to my classmates and get along well with all of them. I was pretty well-liked, but I wasn't particularly close to anyone.

But none of that matters now that we're all grown up. I'm waiting tables here at the diner, and only God knows what the rest of them are doing. If I had to bet, I would guess most of them are in college now. Many of my classmates were trust fund babies.

I honestly don't know how my dad could afford to send me to private school, but he insisted that I get a good education in a safe environment.

My heart wrenches at the thought of him. It's been two years, yet I still miss him like it was yesterday. He was my best friend.

I never knew my mother. She died giving birth to me, but my father never held that against me—even when I held it against myself. He told me that I was her pride and joy when she was pregnant and that she wouldn't have regretted her sacrifice. Dad also assured me that she'd be so proud of the woman I'd become.

Meg's face falls as if she can tell the turn my thoughts have taken. Meg is a good friend. She's been here for me through it all.

The day I got the phone call that my dad was in a bad car crash, she was the one who held me while I cried. She knows firsthand what I've been through. She was there to wrap her arms around me when I needed someone to cry on, and I'll forever be grateful to her for that.

I'm not into all this social stuff, though. After a long day at work, I like to go home and relax by myself with a good book or a movie, but I know my friend means well. She just worries about me.

That's why I hear myself agreeing. "Sure, Meg. Count me in."

"Sweet!" she squeals as she flutters off to get back to work.

I smile to myself. Maybe it will be good for me to get out for a night with the girls.

The girls don't take me to a rambunctious club, and for that, I'm thankful. I'm so not into the club scene. Instead, we hit up a local bar where the vibe is good, and there's no pressure to dance and gyrate all over one another like there is at a club.

We're all dressed pretty casually in skirts and tank tops, but nothing outrageous.

I instantly relax as we drink a few flirty cocktails and the girls' chatter.They talk about some of our usual customers, and Meg makes this hilarious impression of one of our grumpiest regulars that has us all laughing.

I grip my stomach with deep belly laughs—the kind that I haven't experienced in years. It's the kind of laugh that makes your stomach hurt but in a good way.I wipe the tears from my eyes. Meg was right. This feels good. Yes, I still miss my dad, but I know he wouldn't want me to grieve for him forever. He would want me to have friends and start living again.

So, I vow to myself that's what I'm going to do.

We're a couple of drinks in when people start going up on the stage for to sing karaoke. Unsurprisingly, Chrissy is the first one in our group to volunteer. We all giggle and clap supportively. She's not as good a singer as she thinks she is, but she's not horrible, either. She's just a little over the top.

"Okay, now it's your turn, Harper." Meg turns her big blue eyes on me.

"Oh, no." I shake my head, my palms sweating at the thought of getting on the stage in front of a bunch of people—even if they are people I don't know.

"Yes, you have to!" Molly and Mary agree. "We'll go after you, but you go next."

"No, girls, I really don't want to," I protest, but Meg is already plucking my drink from my fingers and pulling me to stand.

"Harper, you're an amazing singer. You'll do great!" she tells me.

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