The beach.
I hadn’t been to the beach in over five years. It was my favorite place to go to relax, and it was only now that I felt welcomed. When you were a larger woman, the beach was not a very forgiving place. You felt the eyes of strangers aimed at you. You didn’t feel as if you belonged. Of course, this was likely all part of your imagination, but it still didn’t feel good.
The truth was I didn’t hate my body anymore. Sure, I wasn’t exactly thin, and I still had curves, but I was comfortable in my body.
Walking down the trail, I found myself on the sand and mentally prepped myself for a hard workout. I ran on the sand till my heart raced then I stopped, jogging in place for a minute. I did this again and again, working at intervals till my legs felt like jelly and I wanted to puke. There was no in-between with a workout like this. It was go hard or go home. And so I went hard.
As I near stumbled back up the trail, I drank from a water fountain then sat at a bench, still panting. I sat until my heart rate decreased and thought of Quinn. And as though he heard my thoughts, my phone pinged.
Quinn: Of course I have a rubber ducky. Don’t tell me you don’t. That could be a deal breaker for me.
I lifted my face and huffed a laugh to the sky.
Me: I don’t have a rubber ducky. I know. I’m ashamed. Does an anti-slip mat with duckies on it count?
His reply was immediate and I almost heard him scoff.
Quinn: No, it doesn’t count! That’s okay. I’ll just have to get you one.
I smiled hard like the fool I was.
Me: You don’t have to do that, Quinn.
I sat back on the bench and closed my eyes, trying in vain to push aside the warm feeling swirling inside my chest, partially choking me. My phone chimed.
Quinn: Yes, I do. x
Shit. It was nine days till Sunday. I was still counting down.
I had an appointment with a hooker, and I couldn’t wait.
I made it home from the beach in time to catch Bill and Terry walking out of their apartment. As soon as they spotted me, they both beamed.
Terry got to me first, kissing my cheek. “Mia honey, we were just talking about you! We wanted to invite you over tonight for dinner, but neither of us have your number.”
Bill took my hand and kissed my knuckles. “And before you decline, Terry’s cooking his famous drunken duck a l’orange. And it’s amazing.”
Terry added in a singsong voice, “With crème brûlée for dessert.”
Oh, damn. I freaking loved crème brûlée. I was not about to say no to that menu. I’d be crazy to! I smiled. “Anything you want me to bring?”
Terry looked downright horrified at the idea and slapped my arm to let me know. “No! You’re our guest, Mia.”
“I’ll be there. What time?”
Terry had already dragged Bill down the hall. He called out, “Eight p.m., sharp,” with a backwards wave. Bill smiled and shrugged. I supposed he was used to this.
I shook my head at the hurricane that was Terry, then unlocked my apartment, dropped my things on my bed, and showered. I sang my little heart out in that shower with my own special Spice Girls mash-up, still partly mad at Ginger for leaving the group. When I sang so hard that I was certain I should’ve been the sixth member of the band, I turned off the water and dried myself lazily, dropping my towel to the floor.
My bedroom window was open, so I made a nudie run to the blinds and closed them before lying naked on my bed in my own form of meditation. There was something empowering about being stripped bare. In all my flawed glory, I was comfortable. And that made me happy. Happy was all I ever wanted to be, and for the first time ever, I really was.
The blue light on my cell was blinking. I lifted it with a frown to find three new messages. I read them wide-eyed and confused.
Quinn: Pink, blue, or yellow?
Quinn: …for the rubber duck, that is.
Quinn: Never mind, I got ‘em all. I don’t like the idea of you just having one. They need company.
Laughter burst out of me, shaking my entire body. My jiggly bits jiggled, and that didn’t bother me a bit.
Me: Good call. I’ve heard stories of depressed rubber ducks drowning themselves in their manic state. If only those ducks had a duck homie to shoot the breeze with. Tragic.
Before I even managed to put my phone down, it chimed in my hand.
Quinn: Oh, you make fun now, but I bet my duck you’ll love ‘em.
My fingers typed the exact thing I was thinking.
Me: Quack.
I hadn’t expecting the response I got.
Quinn: So…can I call you?
I sat up with a jolt. I blinked down at the message then swallowed hard. No. I wasn’t ready for this. My fingers typed slowly, carefully. I clicked send and closed my eyes.
Me: …okay.
The phone started to ring almost instantly, and I panicked. I stared down at it as it rang, and let it ring till it rang out.
Shit.
Quinn: Okay, I get it. You said I could call. You didn’t say you’d answer. Clever little kitten.
My heart was racing, my skin had flushed, and I had to get over this. I was going to lose my virginity to this man, and I couldn’t even talk to him? Lord, I was pathetic.
Me: If you call again, I’ll answer. Scout’s honor.
My phone rang once more; this time I answered right away. My voice sounded soft. Too soft. “Hello?”
I heard a smile through that deep, manly voice. “Maya?”
My eyes closed of their own accord and I forced my voice louder. “Hi, Quinn.”
He chuckled low and rough, and it felt like a caress all over my body. “Hi, yourself. Why didn’t you answer your phone? You won’t let me see you before our appointment, so the least you could do is talk to me.”
A blush rose in my cheeks. He wasn’t scalding me. I knew he was only teasing, but I still felt like a fifteen-year-old girl talking to the high school quarterback. I slapped my forehead and groaned. “Ugh, I know. I’m sorry. I get weird around men. I panicked.”
The amused lilt in his voice disappeared and was replaced with a tinge of concern. “Tell me about that. Did you have a bad experience with a man? Did someone hurt you?”
His voice was so gentle and full of care that I found myself smiling softly. “No, nothing like that. It’s sort of something that’s always happened with me. Men would try to talk to me, and mid-conversation, I’d walk away, because I couldn’t respond. It’s sort of like having a major brain-fart.”
He laughed then, and I smiled hard. He uttered, “I can understand that. I’ve had a brain-fart a time or two before.” He paused a moment then asked cautiously, “How do you feel talking to me?”
It was my turn to pause. I lifted my head in thought before responding through a sigh, “This is probably going to sound weird, and I apologize in advance for that, but I kind of feel like I’m talking to a friend.”
His reply was sincere. “We are friends. At least, I’d like to be friends. You got room for one more?”
Smiling so hard my cheeks felt like they were on the verge of splitting, I answered gently, “Always got room for another friend.”
His voice had softened. “Me too, Maya. Me too.” Then his voice turned husky. “Can you do something for me, Maya?”
I blinked at the sudden change of character, and so I stuttered, “Uh, sh-sh-sure.”
Amusement lined his voice. “Quack for me, baby.”
Chapter Eleven
Quinn