Page 3 of Love, A Curvy Girl's Guide

A bell rang, indicating the back door had opened. Footsteps rustled, followed by the door slamming shut, as a beautiful young woman appeared, squeezed into a pair of cutoff shorts and a frilly tank top barely containing her double Ds.

“Hey, Mrs. J!” Haley greeted her next-door neighbor. “Mom said you needed some help canning your peaches this year. She’s got some extra jars and rings if you want to use them.”

“Your mama’s a godsend, Haley,” Bridget replied absentmindedly, snatching the thong with the tongs again and pointing toward the fixings. “How about you help yourself to some breakfast? I just need to finish up the laundry, and the boys need to eat before we grab the canning supplies. Have a seat there on the end. You know where everything is.”

Haley nodded uncertainly, eyeing the brothers, who were still laughing and clutching their sides. Ian seemed to be looking everywhere but at her. Something was wrong, and Haley had a strong suspicion it had to do with her.

“I can come back later,” she said, trying to slink toward the door. Mid-scoot, she caught sight of what Bridget was flinging around with the tongs and gasped. “Wait a minute, are those Cherrise Maud? Those are mine!”

All eyes widened at the revelation. With seven sons, Bridget had become accustomed to finding random things brought home by her boys. But the neighbor’s lacy panties? That was a new one.

Dennis and Derek, however, had long suspected their baby brother harbored a secret crush on their pretty neighbor. But it wasn’t something they’d shared with their mom.

“These are your panties?” Bridget said slowly. “Yours? But Haley…”

Ian knew when to cut his losses. He tried to stand, but his mama was faster.

“Sit your ass down, Ian!”

His ass… sat.

“Do you want to explain yourself, Ian Johnson?” Bridget asked in a deceptively cool tone.

Clearly recognizing her mistake, Haley tried to backtrack to the door, but Duke stepped in front of her, arms crossed and brow raised. She had no choice but to face the music. Turning on her heel, she met everyone’s gaze.

“I hate you, Ian Johnson! You are the worst boy—ever!”

But wait a minute. We’re getting ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?

ONE

Eighth-Grade Gym Class

Haley wiped the sweat trickling down between her ample breasts, silently cursing the sports bra that was supposed to keep them in check. She hated running. Any girl her size would have felt the same. Haley was what her grandmother called “pleasantly plump,” with “junk in the trunk” and “more than a little upfront.”

Her body had betrayed her in sixth grade, transforming her from one of the guys to a social outcast in a single summer.

The girls she’d once called friends began whispering behind her back and were suddenly busy whenever she wanted to hang out. Her mom insisted they were jealous of her new curves. But Haley didn’t care about the reason. She just wanted her friends back.

Even the boys she’d grown up with acted differently around her, stammering and blushing whenever she came near. When they were in packs, their hurtful comments about her body cut far deeper than they would ever know.

Haley felt her body had morphed into something she didn’t recognize. Inside, she was still the girl everyone had deemed acceptable the year before. Mother Nature had played an uglytrick when she’d bestowed Haley with a bountiful backside and a rather excessive chest. There was no hiding it.

Friendless and miserable, Haley had even begged her mother to get a note from Dr. Haggen to excuse her from running the eighth-grade mile. Not only was gym class co-ed but there was also a high likelihood that her neighbor and nemesis, Ian Johnson, would be in her class.

Ian Johnson—whom Haley privately dubbed Satan—was one of the worst boys imaginable. Unlike the others, he didn’t blush or laugh nervously around her; if anything, her new body seemed to anger him.

She had no idea what she’d done to make him act so hatefully toward her. It was his fault that they didn’t get along. She couldn’t remember exactly how it started, but she knew one thing: Ian Johnson was the worst.

Coming around the track’s bend, Haley wiped her forehead and glanced up, hoping she was close to the finish line.

Ian looked over his shoulder about fifteen feet ahead, and their gazes met. A familiar charge passed between them, the same electric pulse that always did. Haley blinked, breaking the connection. Ian’s expression darkened, and he gave her an ominous nod.

If there were any justice in the world, maybe the ground would open up and let her disappear.

She had no idea what it meant but didn’t have long to ponder. Two boys brushed past her on either side, startling her. She stumbled, and one of them deliberately stuck out his foot, tripping her.

She fell forward, instinctively putting her hands out to break her fall. Her knee twisted, and she landed on her arm, painfully contorted beneath her.

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