Even if I had a crystal ball, I wouldn't have been able to predict that Roman, my TA, (or, as my friends called him, 'Ginger Ale' ) and I would be making out in the little room in the back of the Chem building reserved for tutoring. I wouldn't have guessed how the rough way his thumb stroked my jaw would make my skin tingle, or the way my stomach dropped when he brushed the underside of my thigh.
I'd never really seen him in a sexual way. He was older, a grad student. He ran our small-group homework reviews with an easy authority. I'd figured he had a girlfriend, some super smart girl with a scholarship and a position in some hotshot PI's lab. I never thought he would be interested in me--fat, quiet, repeating Chem for the second time because I failed so miserably the first time.
This semester I was doing a lot better, mostly because I had been proactive about tutoring. More than that, I was *feeling* a lot better this semester. So it wasn't unusual that I put on some tinted lip balm and mascara before I went to my weekly tutoring session with Roman. And when I glanced in the mirror, I saw that the high - waisted jean shorts I'd dug out of a drawer really made my legs look awesome - - curvy and strong. And the tank top and cardigan I'd thrown on actually made my waist look kind of small for once. Not the worst, kiddo, I thought.
When I got to the tutoring room, Roman wasn't there yet. I scrolled Insta for a while, and did a few of the practice problems. Finally, twenty minutes late, he arrived looking a little worse for wear. His dark red, curly hair was a little mussed up around the edges, and his shirt was untucked and missing the top couple of buttons. A white v-neck undershirt peeked out from underneath.
"Hey, Alex," he smiled apologetically. "Sorry I'm late."
"Everything okay?"
"Late night. Just... Family stuff."
It seemed like he didn't want to talk about it, but something in his eyes prodded me to keep going.
"What's up?"
He ran a hand through his hair, furthering the damage. "My parents split up when I was young. Now my brother is getting married, they can't stand to be in the same room with each other....oldest story in the book."
"That sucks. My parents are the same way."
"Yeah? Do you have any siblings?"
"Nope. Just me, my mom, and an endless parade of bad boyfriends." I smiled.
"Yours or hers?" he asked.
"Hers, definitely," I laughed. "I'm not really girlfriend material, I guess."
"Too fiercely independent?"
"Not... Likeable enough?"
Crap. I'd learned that the self-deprecating thing was cute in small doses, but I could tell I'd gone too far.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know... Guys don't really sign on for this" I gestured to my body "unless they live in a basement and have a mountain dew addiction."
"'This' meaning...?"
"What are you, my therapist?" I cracked. He didn't laugh. "You know, the whole.... Fat thing."
He shook his head. "Alex, you know some men are really into curvy girls. For some guys, you are, like, the absolute ideal." When I looked up from the floor, he swallowed and looked away.
"I don't know where they're hiding," I said softly. He looked back at me and his brows knitted, just a little.
"Do you want to show me your homework?" he asked. I nodded, and my heart was racing. Was Roman, this cute, older guy, actually hitting on me?