Chapter One
Evelise
This is the only part of being an athlete that I hate. I’ve been playing sports since I first stumbled onto a field. First, it was flag football, off and on through high school, then lacrosse for a short time, until I watched my first women’s rugby match at fifteen.
And I was sold.
Here was a sport that combined my love of football with my natural need for aggression. The best part was that not all the players were skinny Barbie girls. They came in all different body types, and I loved it. I’ve always been a plus-size girl, not a teeny-tiny one, and my mom has struggled with that, but my dad always told me I took after his side of the family. He’s never judged me about my weight, which is funny because, genetically, I’m not a Rezos. I’m adopted, but my father has only ever seen me as his baby girl. He tells me that blood doesn’t make us family, our hearts do. My gigi is the same way. I’m her grandbaby. She loves me to the moon and back; she tells me all the time.
Don’t get me wrong, my mother loves me as well; understanding me is the problem. She couldn’t carry or get pregnant, so they decided to adopt, and chose me. I have long, dark, wavy hair that is a bit curly, as opposed to my mother, who has straight, strawberry-blond hair. She was a beauty queen, prom queen, the most popular girl in her school, and sorority president. I’m none of those and never have been. I’m curvy and tall for a woman. I have T and A. Yep, tits and ass. I fill out my jeans and this damn uniform.
I try not to stare at myself in the mirror while walking past it on my way out of the locker room, but it’s hard not to. That inner voice has been exceedingly chatty lately, thanks to my ex-boyfriend. His judgmental voice rattles in my head.
“Evie, you need to go on a diet. Girls with your societal standing don’t play sports where they tackle each other. Babe, I want to make love to a woman, not a pig.”
That last one is not the worst, but it’s still bad. I twist to the side and scrutinize my butt. Over the summer, I thinned out a bit, but I’m still a solid size 14. My shorts gap a little on my butt, and I know now that I’m hitting the gym to bulk up for the season, they’ll get tighter as my thigh size increases from muscle, but some of the fat will remain. It’s as if my body says bulk up, add more fat. I can’t get rid of the curves.
This is my last season on the team. In May, I’ll graduate with a B.A. in Fashion Design and a minor in Business. When it comes to school, I’m also an overachiever—the class nerd who received unneeded scholarships but loved the validation they brought with them.
My passion is to design fashion for girls built like me. I want plus-size and muscular girls to realize they can be beautiful no matter what they wear or what their size. I’m sick of the fashion industry making us fat girls feel less than what we are and what we deserve. There might be more of us to love, but we still need that love and pretty things.
“Come on. Stop staring at yourself. You look beautiful,” my friend Ruby says and smacks my butt.
She’s a sophomore here at the university. We met last year during the rugby season, but my boyfriend Justin warned me not to be friends with her. He called her trash because her family comes from up North and is part of a motorcycle club. Ruby, however, did not let me avoid her. She’s a force of nature and bulldozed her way into my life.
She helped me break up with Justin over the summer. She was the one who confirmed my fears about him cheating on me. The worst part was that he wasn’t just cheating, he was cheating with my arch nemesis, Paris Channing. She’s from another prominent family in Newport, just like Justin’s and mine.
Why did she have to follow me from Newport to Southern Rhode Island University here in Eastport? I don’t understand. Some days, I think she did it purposefully just to be mean to me, bullying me all through our private high school years. Our parents are both members of the same yacht club back in Newport, and she’s known Justin for years, just like I have, but she gave him things I wasn’t willing to yet. I’m saving myself for that moment when my heart’s ready to explode with desire. I’ve never felt that with Justin. He’s cute and all, but stuck up. And I don’t care how much money you have; be a kind human being for freaking sake.
“Come on.” Ruby grabs my hand and leads me from the locker room.
She’s petite, where I’m tall. She’s thinner and curvy, and I’m bigger and curvier. We are almost direct opposites, but we just fit together. She studies art history, so we do have some classes together.
As we walk out to the field, I hear the voices but can’t curb a full-body shiver. Paris sits there on the bleachers with her group of friends, watching us as we pass by. She starts oinking like a pig, and Ruby turns toward them.
“Please don’t,” my voice hitches as I cringe and hang my head, allowing the ponytail of thick, wavy curls to fall over my face.
“Hey, Paris, you are finally using your real voice. Go fuck yourself, bitch. Why don’t you get a life and leave us alone?”
“Oh, I’m not interested in a nobody like you, runt. I’m here to let the sow know that Justin is never coming back to her.”
“You can have her sloppy seconds. She don’t care.”
I rush toward my other teammates, not wanting to address Paris. I don’t care about Justin, but he won’t leave me alone. Even right now, there are several missed calls and texts from him on my phone.
No matter how many times I break up with him, he returns and forces me to take him back. I wish I were stronger and could ignore him, but what if he’s the only guy that will ever like me? What if I never find a man who likes me for who I am and doesn’t care what I look like? Or likes what he sees in me.
I hate feeling this way, but after all these years, I’m still a virgin at twenty-one. I told Justin I was waiting for marriage. He responded that I would be lucky ever to lose my virginity, and that the only reason someone would want to marry me is for my family’s money.
Is that why he’s after me?
His family is as well off as mine. At least, I think they are. They run in the same circles as my parents. His family brags that they are from one of the founding families of Providence and, thus, Rhode Island. Mine can’t even claim that. Although my father is known for being a top attorney at our family’s law firm. My grandfather was one, too, but retired and moved away from Providence. My parents lived there for years before adopting me, then moved to Newport to be closer to my grandparents.
Dad and Papa weren’t upset when I told them I didn’t want to carry on the family legacy. The only time my grandfather showed disappointment was when I declined a scholarship to Harvard and chose to stay in Rhode Island and study here.
“Okay, let’s do some practice runs to get ready for this weekend.” Coach’s voice breaks through my haze. I shake off the moody thoughts and dive into practice, running drills and powering through muscle stiffness from yesterday’s workout.
When we are about done, a rumble thunders from between the buildings. Ruby’s head pops up, and she smiles. “It’s my brother.” She bounces up and down like a little kid.
