Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
“Where did you learn to cook, babe?” Misty giggles while eyeing the dinner I’m preparing. I love the way she looks when she’s waiting for a good meal. Her eyes drift off into a transcendent-like daze as she dreams of what that first bite will taste like. I can’t help but smile as I hear her gently gulp; someone is clearly already salivating.
After all, I appreciate a girl that can eat. I saw so many starving families while on tour. There were men with such little energy left that they resembled scarecrows, yet they tilled fields and worked with animals, trying to push through one more day. But they were doing it for their families, and for the love they held for their children and their wife, which is tragic and yet heartwarming at once.
I smile at her.
“Well, when you’re deployed, your diet can be pretty grim sometimes. Meaning, pre-packed, dehydrated meals.” I see Misty stiffen in her chair, pursing her lips to hold back the words she wants to blurt out but is trying her damnedest to postpone until I have finished my thought. “It’s worse than the cafeteria food at your high school, I can guarantee that,” I say with a smirk, knowing that I’m beating her to her counter argument. “So I came to value the importance of a good meal and the ability to share that with others. It seems mundane, but it’s actually a time-honored tradition across many cultures.”
She smiles.
“Of course,” Misty murmurs. “I completely understand.”
But she kind of doesn’t because there are some things the sweet girl doesn’t need to know. I experienced a lot during the war, much of which remains with me to this day. Misty is still a bright-eyed, optimistic, and rather innocent-minded teen. I don’t want to steal that from her with stories of my days on the battlefield. Besides, I don’t like to relive those memories much anyways.
“I appreciate you sharing your cooking skills with me,” she says, fluttering her lashes at me. “And you look so darn sexy doing it, with your bare chest behind that apron.” She leans back in her chair and gives me a good look over, eyes gleaming with approval. “I would seduce you right here and now, but I’m pretty hungry and that Beef Bourguignon smells delectable. I guess seducing you is going to have to wait,” she giggles, pretending it’s all a silly act. I laugh, knowing that she’s far from joking.
“You’re going to have to be even more patient than you think, sweetheart, because there’s creamy toffee pudding waiting in the fridge for us for dessert.”
“Damn me and my appetite,” Misty sighs dramatically. “I wish I didn’t love eating so much.”
My black brow raises.
“Why? I love your appetite,” I tell her. “It makes you even sexier.”
“And plumper,” she adds while rolling her eyes. But I shake my head.
“I adore your curves, babe. Don’t ever lose them because I think I’ll break down if you do.” And I truly do adore her lushness because that ripe body is what attracted me to her in the first place.
She’s quiet for a moment.
“I’ve come to love my curves too,” Misty tells me. “But it did take me a while to get to this point. For a long time, I was self-conscious about my size. But then suddenly I blossomed during freshman year, and my extra weight turned into assets. I guess I’m really lucky it came in all the right places, and not somewhere weird, like my feet,” she says playfully.
“Really?” I ask. “You were self-conscious before? That seems hard to believe,” I say, remembering how I caught her touching herself just a few weeks ago. Misty nods.
“Overnight I went from being a chubby kid to becoming a full-figured woman, and people noticed. It’s silly, but I loved the positive attention. All of a sudden, the same guys who used to pick on me started looking at me, and they really wanted me too. But for the first time, I had the power to tell them no.”
“You get ‘em babe,” I reassure her as I make our plates. “Give ‘em blue balls like a good girl.” We both laugh, and then we move to the dining room table. But as we sit down companionably, she gets serious again.
“Given that I used to be teased about my size, it makes me want to succeed as a plus-size model. I told you that’s what I’m hoping to do long-term, right? It’s not just for the money and exposure. I want to send a message to bigger girls to let them know that they’re beautiful no matter what. I want to tell them that it doesn’t matter what other people say, because they’re already gorgeous.”
I look at Misty and I see that piece of me, the piece that cares so much and wants to give back to the community. Only in her it seems to shine so much brighter, never having been dampened by the cruelties of the world outside her small town.