I Lost 90 Pounds, Only To Find He Tried To Give Me Away Chapter 05

I Lost 90 Pounds, Only To Find He Tried To Give Me Away Chapter 05

The plane had barely touched down before my phone started buzzing nonstop.

[Babe, where are you?? I’m at Arrivals. I’ve got a bouquet.]

[image]

[I’m so nervous. What if you see me and don’t like me?]

The photo was of just the bouquet. No face.

For a catfish, he was actually kind of romantic.

Something in me softened. Maybe that didn’t matter.

I’d set things straight when I saw him. We could start over as friends if nothing else.

Because honestly, these past three months? He’d been nothing but good to me.

He was always there. If I told him I couldn’t sleep, he’d stay on the phone with me until he was mumbling nonsense, half-conscious and still refusing to hang up.

Every holiday came with a gift. And even on random days, he’d find excuses to spoil me.

He remembered everything. What I liked, what I didn’t, even the little things I’d only mentioned once.

He was a good guy.

So what if he wasn’t good-looking? I could deal with that.

The guy in the seat next to me tapped my arm.

I looked over. His face was already red.

“Sorry, I… I noticed you when I got on the plane. Could I maybe get your Instagram?”

I shook my head. “Sorry.”

He went even redder. “Right, no, my bad. Sorry to bother you.”

I wheeled my suitcase through Arrivals and spotted the roses from halfway across the terminal. The

bouquet was so massive it hid the person holding it.

But even from behind that wall of flowers, I could make out broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and serious

height.

Maybe he was one of those guys who looked great from the neck down and tragic from the neck up.

There was no way Definitely Not A Fuckboy actually looked like those photos.

So what was his angle?

He must have been getting restless, because his face finally appeared from behind the roses, eyes scanning

the crowd.

I stopped walking.

No way.

He looked exactly like the photos. No. He looked better.

Definitely Not A Fuckboy wasn’t catfishing?!

A few girls nearby were already huddled together, stealing glances and whispering.

I walked over, not entirely sure what kind of face I was making. “Are you…”

I expected his jaw to drop. Instead, he frowned.

“Can I help you?”

I tilted my head and held up my phone. “Who are you waiting for? Can I get your Instagram?”

His expression hardened.

“I’m waiting for my girlfriend. Not interested.”

I blinked.

Since I’d lost the weight, not a single guy had ever shut me down that hard.

Did Definitely Not A Fuckboy seriously only like plus-size girls?

I didn’t move. He started getting impatient.

“Look, can you go? My girlfriend’s almost here.”

I let out a breath.

“Hey, ‘Not a Fuckboy! It’s me. Pumpkin.”

“What are you talking about? Not a… Pump-” He stopped mid-sentence. His eyes traveled down, then back

up, and his jaw went slack.

“You’re… Pumpkin?!”

“No. No way. You’re not supposed to… aren’t you…”

“Fat and ugly?” I finished for him. “I lost the weight.”

“Or are you only into girls when they’re bigger?”

The guy who’d been trying to get rid of me ten seconds ago went completely red.

“No! That’s not what I meant. I mean, you were cute before too. You weren’t ugly. I just…”

“So am I cute now?” I was starting to enjoy this.

“Yes! I mean, you’re cute now too. You’re really pretty. I just wasn’t expecting… I didn’t think…”

He shoved the bouquet into my arms.

The thing weighed a ton. I staggered under it, nearly tipping over, and he lunged forward to catch me.

“Sorry, sorry!”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

“Didn’t you promise you’d take me somewhere good to eat when we met?”

“Let’s go.”