Ch-5

KYLIE

The campus coffee shop is buzzing with the hum of chatter and the rich aroma of roasted espresso beans.

We grab a quiet table in the back corner... far enough from the main counter that nobody would overhear us.

I sit with my back glued to the chair, clutching a large iced vanilla latte. My knees are knocking together under the table.

"Okay," I whisper, glancing around the room. "Should I... should I pull out a notebook? Do you have slides or a syllabus or something?"

Logan sits across from me, looking relaxed. He looks at me for a long second, an amused smirk tugging at his lips.

"A syllabus?" he repeats, chuckling under his breath. "Kylie, this isn't Microeconomics. I'm not giving you homework assignments. Relax."

"I am relaxed!" I squeak out, instantly taking a hasty sip of my coffee through the straw.

"Right. You're so relaxed you look like you're waiting for an executioner," Logan teases. He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table, closing the distance between us. His dark eyes lock onto mine. "Lesson number one is confidence. Real, unshakeable confidence. And to get that, we need to dismantle the completely ridiculous myth living inside your head."

I frown, fidgeting with the cardboard sleeve of my cup. "What myth?"

"The myth that guys only care about one tiny, airbrushed body type," he says flatly.

My cheeks instantly flush pink. I look down at my cup. "It's not a myth, Logan. It's... it's just reality. You see it everywhere."

"Is it?" Logan tilts his head. A slow glint enters his eyes as he pulls his phone out of his pocket and taps on the screen. "Let's test that theory right now."

I blink. "What are you doing?"

"I'm creating a poll," he says.

"A... a poll?" My heart does a drop into my stomach. "Logan, wait! A poll where?!"

"In the official lacrosse team group chat," he replies casually.

"What?!" I shriek, leaning across the table and reaching out to snatch his phone, but he casually lifts it high out of my reach, laughing at my frantic attempt. "Logan, stop! Are you crazy?! You can't ask your team about that! They're going to know it's about me!"

"First of all, they won't, because I'm not using your name," Logan says, holding his phone effortlessly above his head while I stretch across the table. "Second of all, sit down before you spill your latte all over my lap."

I sink back into my chair, burying my face in my hands. "I hate you. I actually, truly hate you."

"No, you don't," he murmurs. "Now listen to the ground rules I'm setting for this poll. I'm captioning it: 'Strictly for the guys who actually want a real relationship, not just a weekend hookup.' Then the question: 'What build do you actually prefer in a girl?' Options: Slim/Petite, Athletic, or Plus-Sized/Curvy."

"Logan, please don't hit send," I plead through my fingers. "This is so embarrassing!"

I groan, dropping my hands from my face and glaring at him with all the heat I can muster. "You are an absolute nightmare! Why would you do that?!"

"Because you don't believe me when I tell you you're attractive," Logan says. "You think I'm just being nice. So let's let thirty-two college guys prove it to you."

"They're lacrosse players!"

"And you're cute when you're all worked up."

My face flares bright red again, the heat traveling all the way down to my neck. I look out the window, completely unable to meet his gaze. "Stop saying things like that."

"Why? It's part of the training," he smirks. "Learning how to take a compliment without blushing like a strawberry."

I stare at the phone.

Logan leans forward, picks up the device. He unlocks it, his eyes skimming over the screen as a slow grin begins to spread across his face.

"Well, well, well," he murmurs, tapping the screen. "Look at that."

"What?" I ask. "What does it say?"

"See for yourself," he says, sliding the phone across the table to me.

I hesitate, my hand trembling slightly as I pick up his phone. The W******p group chat was blowing up with messages, but right at the top was the live poll results.

My eyes widen.

32 Votes

Plus-Sized / Curvy: 75% (24 votes)

Athletic: 18.75% (6 votes)

Slim / Petite: ¿—6.25% (2 votes)

Below the poll, the chat is scrolling.

Jake: bro why are you asking this at 10am on a saturday???

> Tariq: Curvy 100%. Soft girls >>>> literally everything else.

> Miller: Facts. Need someone who can actually eat a bacon cheeseburger with me and look good doing it.

> Sam: If she doesn't have hips what are we even doing here

I stare at the screen, my breath hitching in my throat. I read the numbers once. Twice. Three times. Seventy-five percent.

"Three-quarters of the team," Logan's voice cut softly through my daze. He's leaning back again, watching my expression. "Twenty-four out of thirty-two guys instantly clicked curvy. And those are guys who explicitly said they want something real."

I swallow hard, setting the phone down on the table. "I... I mean, maybe they're just saying that because..."

"Kylie," Logan interrupts. "Stop."

I raise my eyes to meet his. "Stop looking for excuses to make yourself feel smaller," he says. "You asked me for help because you thought nobody looks at you. I just proved to you that three-fourths of the guys walking around this campus are literally hoping for a girl who looks exactly like you."

"I..."

"G-got it," I stammer, my cheeks burning beneath the heat of his gaze.

"Now... wipe that shocked look off your face. We have lesson number two."

I blink, taking a breath as I pull my hand back into my lap. "There's a lesson number two today?"

"Oh, absolutely," Logan grins. "Now that we've established that guys want you, we're going to teach you how to handle them when they try to talk to you. Starting with eye contact."

"Eye contact?" I repeat nervously.

"Yep," he says, setting his cup down and leaning his chin in his hand. "Stare into my eyes for thirty seconds without looking away, blushing, or giggling. If you fail, you buy my next coffee."

"That's impossible!"

"Timer starts now, student. Let's see what you've got."