I fluffed out my hair around my shoulders one last time, taking in my outfit in the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door.

Smoothing down nonexistent wrinkles in my shorts, I smiled at my reflection. The pink romper outfit was new, one I'd been saving for summer. The top was knotted in the front, the matching shorts had frills at the bottom. A small section of my midriff was out, stretch marks and all.

My weight or the lines that snaked up my sides and down my shoulders never bothered me much. Maybe because my body had always been that way. Hips, boobs and a butt all before I even hit middle school. Growing that much in a small amount of time came with stretchmarks. That was just a fact.

Not that I noticed how quickly my body developed. People usually pointed that out for me, unprovoked and in the rudest way. My body wasn't something I thought about past getting dressed in the morning. Even then, I was more focused on my clothes. That's why I always dressed in bright colors and cute patterns. I wanted other people to notice my adorable outfits and nothing else.

"Charm, your mom's here," my dad said from the other side of the door.

I pulled it opened to find him rolling up the sleeves on his checkered button up. He was dressed a little too casual, by his standards anyway. Which meant only one thing. "Got a hot date?"

He gave me an unamused glance, but I could see the corners of his lips twitching. "This is how I always dress for brunch."

"Mhmm," I hummed, heading down the stairs behind him. "Anyone special joining us for brunch, father?"

"Her name is Ebony." My mom walked in through the front door at just that moment, a shopping bag in the crook of her arm. She looked perfect as always in light ankle pants and a sleeveless collared shirt. Her afro bigger than my own. "And he's meeting her for coffee after brunch. She's a social worker who loves basketball, Thai food and kids."

"She sounds nice," I said, nudging my dad who looked like a shy sixth grader.

My parents were friendly now, but the divorce was world war three. My mom wanted spontaneous, which was a dirty word to my dad. With him, everything had a time and place. No room for detours.

Now my mom was happily living her dream life with my step-dad, Samir.

My dad had loosened up the tiniest bit over the years, which was why he let my set him up on blind dates.

He definitely needed a woman in his life, but one of his ex-wives' sorority sisters probably wasn't the best idea. Either way, as long as he was happy and not hovering over me, I was fine with whoever he dated.

"She does know I'm over eight, right?"

The last blind date my mom set my dad up on brought me a Barbie doll as an ice breaker. She was embarrassed. I thought the doll was cute and kept it anyway.

"Yes, I told her all about my sweet seventeen-year-old." She grinned, walking over to hug me with her free arm.

"My birthday isn't until next month."

"I'm rounding up," she said, kissing my cheek. She then turned to my dad. "Langston, please change your shirt."

My dad frowned, glancing at his shirt, but he didn't question her and retreated up the stairs.

"This is for you," my mom said, holding out the shopping bag. "Early birthday present."

"Thank you," I grinned, taking the bag to the side table at the foot of the stairs. I reached in, excited at the feel of fabric. Clothes. My smile faltered a bit when I pulled out the dark fabric.

My mom smiled widely as I held the dress up to myself. It had three-quarter sleeves and came down past my knees. It looked like something you'd wear to a job interview, which was why I was extra surprised by her suggestion.

"You should wear it today."

Mom had this way about her. So confident and sure in whatever she said or did. It was hard to say no to her sometimes. She made her opinion sound more like fact. Like my dad, part of me wanted to nod and obey.

But I hated the dress. The color, the shape. It wasn't me at all. She knew it wasn't like anything I normally wore.

My appearance was an ongoing battle with my mom. She never flat out said she had a problem with my weight, most of time she never even brought it up. But sometimes, out of the blue, she'd bring me new clothes she thought I'd love.

Jeans with control top. Boxy, shapeless, shirts. Dresses that liked more like muumuus. And the thing I hated most in life: Three quarter sleeves.

To make it worst, the clothes were never in cute, fun colors. Always black or grey or dark blue. The clothes were as boring as they were shapeless. And they all came with one message: cover up and don't draw attention to yourself.

When I was younger, before I really had a say in what I wore, I dressed in whatever she laid out for me the night before. No question asked. But I was older and in charge of my own closet and I didn't have to wear things I didn't feel comfortable in.

"Um...I'm already dressed." I told her, carefully putting the dress back in its bag.

Her eyes roamed the length of me, lingering at my exposed midriff. She didn't say anything. She didn't have to. Everything I needed to know was stamped across her face.

My mom was a lot of things, subtle was not one of them.

"Yes, I know." Her voice was strained. Her smile forced. "At least try it on? You know how clothes are, they look lifeless until you see them on."

Someone cleared their throat. Samir stood in the doorway, a nervous smile on his face in his brown face. How long had he been standing there?

Samir walked over, giving me a quick hug. "You look nice, Charm." He must've heard my mom. A small smile made its way to my face. That was why I loved Samir—he was the only person who wouldn't stand for my mom trying to control everything.

"Where's Langston? We don't want to hit traffic," he said, glancing up the stairs.

My mom's expression was tight, but she dropped the subject of my outfit. Samir winked at me when she turned to leave.

♡ ♡ ♡

Cash sucked at basketball. And losing. "This thing is rigged!" He shouted, walking away.

The restaurant we had brunch at also had an arcade and I was destroying my little brother at every game. My purse was overflowing with tickets.

I followed him, laughing. "You said that about the last three games."

"This one," he said, ignoring my comment and already feeding a couple of bills to the machine.

It was some race car game, complete with vibrating seats. Cash had a smug look on his face as the game started up. "This is gonna be easy, since only one of us can drive."

He was only thirteen, but somehow, he was more comfortable behind a wheel illegally than I was as a licensed driver. I slit my eyes at him, which only deepened the smirk on his face.

The game started and all I wanted was to kick his ass at yet another game. That's exactly what I was doing while he was crashing into walls.

I turned to my brother, already celebrating my inevitable win, when someone caught my eye.

Nate.

He was with Andrew who gestured widely with his hands, nearly smacking someone. Nate looked more interested in the games around him than whatever Andrew was saying. Then Nate's gaze fell on me.

My breath hitched in my throat when he smiled and raised his hand in a small wave.

Cash shouted, jumping up from the seat, fists pumping in the air as he celebrated his win. He blocked my view of Nate. Which was a good thing, actually.  It allowed me a second to remember how much I didn't like Nate.

So, I taught him how to bake cookies and that made us friends in his head? We weren't friends. We were barely acquaintances.

"That does count," I said digging through my purse for more money. "I was distracted."

"Excuses."

Ducking my head, I shoved the bills into the slot. "Afraid you're gonna get your ass kicked, yet again?"

"Kinda."

I jumped at the deep tenor of a voice that did not belong to my brother. Nate occupied the seat, Andrew behind him, leaning against the back.

"Your skills that good?" Nate asked, looking impressed.

"Where'd my brother go?"

Andrew pointed at one of those dance machines where my brother was currently entertaining a small group of girls. How did he get over there so fast?

The game in front me started up, pulling my attention back to it. No way was I sitting there and playing that stupid game with him. I started to stand.

Nate stopped me with a gentle hand on my arm. I ignored the popping of goosebumps. Why'd they always keep those arcade rooms so cold? "How are going to leave before following through on your threat?"

He looked up at me in a way that almost—almost—made me sit back down.

"You already put your money in," he continued, making a really good point.

"You can play with Andrew."

Andrew shook his head. "I'm working." That's when I noticed the restaurants logo on his shirt. "Win for me, though." He said with a friendly smile before disappearing into the crowd of hyper children.

Nate chuckled, shaking his head at his friend. "Subtle he is not."

"What?"

He laughed again. "Or maybe he is."

Before I could question him, he turned to the game, hitting start. "Don't expect me to go easy on you just 'cause you're a girl."

That annoyed me and I wasn't leaving without knocking him down a peg. I turned to the game, prepared to wipe that smirk off his face. "Don't expect me not take pictures of you ugly crying when I win."

The game counted down from three and I hit the gas.

♡ ♡ ♡

"You cheated," Nate said as we left the game to two little girls and wandered aimlessly through the arcade.

The victory smile I wore wasn't fading anytime soon. "How did I cheat?"

"You didn't disclose the fact that you've been coming here twice a month, every month, since you were eight."

I laughed, shrugging. "I didn't think that'd be a problem for a big-time gamer like you."

"I don't play these types of games," he said. "If that was Mario Cart, I would've annihilated you."

"Excuses," I said with an exaggerated eye roll.

"So, that's what gets a smile out of you," he asked, side stepping a kid with a giant giraffe plushie. "Embarrassing men?"

I tilted my head, pretending to think about it. "I do enjoy shattering the fragile male ego. Now to spend my winnings." I shook the yellow tickets in face before heading to the prize counter.

Andrew was behind the counter, handing a little kid an inflatable sword. "You kicked his ass," he guessed when we reached him. He seemed impressed.

"I did," I said setting my tickets on the counter.

Nate snorted at the ten tickets. "The only thing you're getting with that is an eraser. Not even a jumbo one."

I held up a finger, reached into my purse and pulled out about a hundred more tickets. The long yellow columns tangled together. I smiled proudly at Nate's wide eyes.

Andrew chuckled, taking the tickets and feeding them to a machine to count them. "You're officially my new favorite person," he said to me.

Nate pouted at his friend, putting a hand to his chest. "I'm hurt."

I cashed in my tickets for a few packs of Skittles. More kids with tickets crowded the counter, so Nate and I left Andrew to his work. I handed Nate a pack of skittles.

"Something to dry your tears with," I said, smiling sweetly up at him.

"The arcade really brings out the worst in you, huh?"

"I think you meant the best," I corrected. "And yes, it does."

My phone vibrated in my pocket. When I pulled it out, I found a text from Cash telling me it was time go.

"My family is waiting for me," I said, returning my phone to my pocket.

"Right," he scoffed, crossing his arms. "I think you're just trying to get out of a rematch."

"I would love to make you cry again—"

"I didn't cry."

"—but I really do have to go." I turned to find the exit when Nate grabbed my hand. The feel of his rough hand sent my vital organs into a frenzy. My heart stuttered. My stomach cartwheeled. My head spun. It was a miracle I was still standing.

My gaze fell to our hands. His skin was a couple shade lighter than my own and he had a beauty mark at the bottom of his thumb.

"If you still want help with the pictures," he said, pulling my attention up to him. "We can do it whenever. Your aunts trusting me with the keys to Cake Me Up."

My brain was slow to send the signals I needed to appear like a functional human being. I nodded a little too late and little too eagerly. The corners of Nate's lips twitched like he was holding back a laugh.

"Yeah, okay," I said, pulling my hand out of his. "I will let you know." Then I did finger guns, because the moment obviously wasn't awkward enough.

I couldn't bear to see how he responded to that, so I quickly turned around and left.

♡ ♡ ♡

As soon as I got back home, I hopped on my bike and pedaled to Nessa's house.

I dropped my bike on her lawn and rang the doorbell more times than necessary. She yanked the door opened, ready to fight. The scowl fell off her face when she saw it was me.

"Charm? What's wrong?"

"I think I like Nate."

//

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Raise your hand if you think catching feelings is a life threating event 🙋🏾‍♀️