Page 6 of My Secret Bandit

I’ve always been a bigger girl and miserable for just about every minute of it. Full-figured or plus size, whatever you want to call it, that’s what I am. Over the years people have referred to me as fat, curvy, chubby, and thick, to name a few—although, I doubt they were suggesting the sexy kind ofthiccused to describe the popular social media girls. I have ass and boobs. I have a stomach and hips and thighs.

Everything jiggles. There are lumps and bumps and stretch marks that those girls just don’t have.

Like my mom, I inherited my grandma’s long neck, brown eyes, and high cheekbones. Just not her slender body type.

Honestly, the number of times I’ve heard something like “you’re really pretty for a big girl” or “imagine if you lost a few pounds, you’d look so good” waspreposterous.

Who the fuck says stuff like that? Seriously!

Before my move, I promised my mom that I’d take better care of myself, and to this point, I’ve done well. I still have a lot further to go to reach a place where I can “love myself and embrace my curves” as I’ve been told to do so many times. Most of that work is mental, though, and I know that’s the hardest part.

Keeping my mom in mind, a beautifully grilled Mahi-Mahi sat in front of me.

“Jams, they have a whole menu to choose from, and you pick the same thing every time. You heard about mercury poisoning, right?” John asked.

“You worried about me?”

“I’m worried you’ll end up sick, and no one will be around to keep the vicious that makes up Sierra Malone in check.”

“Stop teasing her about being petite and she won’t be so mean. She’s actually really easy to get along with when you treat her like an adult instead of a child.”

”Idotreat her like an adult,“ he pouted as laughter erupted from me and Derek.

“Offering her a booster seat every time we’re here isnottreating her like an adult,“ Derek said, before popping a bite of steak into his mouth.

“Her little feet don’t even touch the floor. Sue me for being courteous.”

Derek’s head shook. “He’ll never learn.”

“Probably not,” I agreed, “but we still love him.”

Ididn’tsleeplastnight. I mean, I haven’t really slept well in months, but last night felt different. The usual nightmare of bright headlights and my mother’s terrified face as the two cars connected with a heart-shattering crunch never came. Instead, the nerves of anticipation tangled in my gut.

My future belonged to today. It needed to go well.

Plan B didn’t exist.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, letting the nerves run wild. When my alarm finally rang, I sprung from my bed, ready to put the energy to good use.

Blush colored blazer, a flowy floral blouse, black ankle length pants, and my most comfortable pair of black heels made up my first officialjournalistensemble.

With the top half of my chestnut hair secured out of my face and a minimal coating of makeup applied, I ate breakfast, grabbed my press badge and notebook before heading out the door with plenty of time to spare before kickoff.

Twenty minutes before eleven, I made my way inside, not wanting to be late. Sixteen minutes later, Jeffrey finally strutted through the door like he owned the damn place.

And here I thought he stood me up.

“Good morning, Flynn. Looking mighty professional today.” Jeffrey grinned. Like, actuallyalmostsmiled as he fastened the button on his suit jacket. He seemed uncharacteristically chipper this morning, most likely because if everything went as planned, he wouldn’t need to come to another game this season. He wasn’t shy about the fact that he would much rather kick back at practices and have genuine one-on-one conversations than compete with the“reporting vultures,”as he called them, that came out on game days.

“Thank you.”

“Much better than the hussies up there.” He tilted his head forward, toward the few women sprinkled between the men ahead of us. Some wore body-hugging yet still professional dresses. A few sleeveless to show off toned arms and others low cut to showcase a different pair of assets. His eyes followed one woman. A tall, raven-haired beauty fixated on getting to the front of the other reporters.

“Nah, they look great. Plus, if you’ve got it, there’s no shame in showing it off.” I shrugged, not wanting to make opinions of these women based on a physical first impression, because that feeling and I went together like PB&J. I knew full well that if I looked like them, I’d dress the exact same, but in much shorter heels. Because I enjoy maneuvering through life without the threat of broken ankles.

Jeffrey laughed. “You’d be surprised. You see that one? All the way up front.” His pointed index finger guided me to the woman he’d been watching. “She’s currently on marriage number four. Some basketballer she met doing… oh! That’s right, exactly this. I know because I was paying a pretty penny in alimony until said marriage earlier this year.”

Speechless, I blinked back the shock that he shared even that small bit of personal information with me.

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