Craving The Curves

o n e

Most men think a woman's body is theirs to take. They see her delicate skin and want to touch it, ruin it even. They see the bone structure of her face and want to trace it. They see her ample breasts and love them, cherish them. Its very ironic to love a girl for the fat on her chest but not the fat on her stomach. Boys love thick thighs and big butts but when they hear about stretch marks, cellulite, and skin discoloration they are disgusted. The difference between men and boys? One learns to love and covet a woman's body. One is terrified of the magic and beauty it holds.

I am a simple girl. I have long brown hair. I have green bold eyes. I have a curvy body. What is curvy? I see pictures of plus sized models and they wear a size six. I see the Kardashians and they have flat stomachs. I see myself and see curves. I see how sometimes if my shirt is cut a little low my cleavage shows. I see how my thighs are bigger than the average girl. I see how even if my stomach fits in a pair of jeans I can't buy them because they are too tight on my butt. I see these things about my body and think plus sized and curvy but the rest of the world sees fat. The boys at my school pay me no attention. The girls hate that I can wear a sports bra and still have bounce. I guess that's why they see me as a threat. One day a boy named Cade Thompson, no longer saw me as a threat.

"Hale! The answer?" I look up from notebook that had a drawing of an hourglass to the cold and hard eyes of Mr.Dawson. I look behind him at the board and see we are talking about behavioral issues.

"Sorry I uhm-" I begin to say before the audible snickers start to flood my ears.

"Maybe if you were paying attention you would have understood the question." Mr.Dawson says with a smirk as he scans the class for his next prey.

I look back down at my drawing cursing myself for ever wanting to study physiology.

"Since no one here knows the answer I'll tell you." He turns around to write on the squeaky chalkboard before the door to the class room is opened. A boy- no a man walks through the door with a tight hold on his backpack strap. His brown eyes scan the class before they meet my green ones. His eyes were so brown you  mistake them for black. A lopsided smile appears on his face and I break eye contact with him and look back at my notes.

"I'm sorry how may I help you?" Mr.Dawson says with a bit of anger in his voice.

"You one of the psychology teachers?" He says with a voice like velvet. I look at him and study the way his hair is styled like he just woke up, his jean jacket looks like its been worn out over the years. He has a dark and edgy look and its hard to not look at him. Mr.Dawson nods his head yes at the man. "Great. I'm your new transfer, Cade Thompson." He says before coming down the isle and taking the seat behind me. The girls in the class follow his every step with their eyes before looking at me. Every ones eyes are slanted in an accusing way at me and only one word comes to mind.

Fuck.

I can hear him breathing behind me and trying to silenty sketch something. Thirty minutes have passed and Cade hasn't said anything. I thought he would at least say hey. I was a little surprised he took the seat behind mine as Georgia had a seat beside her and she is drop dead gorgeous. I can feel his eyes burning holes into the back of my head but I stay still in my seat, listening to Dawson talk about the signs of ADHD.

"Mrs.Lopez, what's a characteristic of a child with ADHD?" Dawson asks Rose with a sloppy smile on his face. Im pretty sure she's been sleeping with him for a month now but I may be wrong.

As Rose had started to answer, I felt someone playing with the ends of my hair. My mom is half African so my hair has a slight curl to the tips of it. I feel them pull the end and watch it shrink back up. My heart begins to beat faster as I hear an amused laugh.  I thought he would do it about five times and stop but he is starting to twirl my hair around his fingers.