Page 21 of Hate the Game (Playing Dirty #1)

***Savannah***

Iskipped my next class. I couldn’t force myself to suck it up and go back out into the world so soon after being called a cow repeatedly.

It hurt. Even if I didn’t want to admit it, even to myself.

It did. I’d grown up in an extremely athletic family.

I’d lived in the land of protein shakes, perfect abs, and daily workouts that lasted longer than any of my favorite childhood TV shows.

The differences between my brothers’ bodies and mine didn’t just stop at male and female organs.

They were built like giant superheroes. Even my dad still had muscles upon muscles.

They were close to zero percent body fat and I…

was not. Without a mom around with boobs and a butt to show me that I was normal I’d grown up feeling like a freak.

I was soft when they were hard. They went straight from baby fat to toned bodies and I was still holding onto my baby fat.

It was definitely more like adult fat at that point but calling it baby fat made me feel a little better.

I knew I wasn’t sleek and thin and as fit as an Olympian.

It was fine. I liked my body. I had curves and I knew that men who weren’t superficial assholes liked them.

My stomach was softer and my thighs had never once let a phone drop between them.

The idea of a thigh gap was laughable and my ass really was a juicy peach.

I looked good in my clothes and I liked myself.

It was just… It was easy to forget that I did.

Staring at myself in the mirror hung on the back of my door I turned each way, back and forth.

Dressed in bike shorts and a camisole, I sucked in my stomach and then gripped my love handles.

I tipped my chin towards my chest and poked the way an extra one appeared if I dipped low enough.

The longer I stared the harsher I judged, the word cow playing on repeat in my head.

I looked over my shoulder and frowned. Was my ass wider than I’d imagined?

If I wore a tight bra I knew my body did its best to escape from each side of the back strap.

Was that a new stretchmark on my stomach?

A knock on my door made me jump and let out a shocked cry. With my hand over my heart, I looked out the peephole and saw the pregnant woman. I quickly grabbed one of the oversized shirts I’d stolen from my brothers and yanked it over my head before answering the door.

She held up an entire pan of brownies and a bag with a roll of paper sticking out of it. “Did I scare you? I just… I saw that whole thing earlier and I wanted to make sure you were alright. I swear I’m not a stalker. I heard you lived across the hall from my brother so… I hope this is okay.”

“Your brother?”

She looked back at The Apex Three’s door and frowned. “Jax. I’m Blaire Carrington. And you’re Savannah Lane.”

I blinked several times as that information settled into my brain. I’d known Jax had a sister named Blaire because of my research but I’d never seen a picture of her and I hadn’t expected her to be the pregnant woman that had been getting screamed at. “Wow. I… I’m…”

“I know. Hardly anyone even knows Jax has a little sister. And compared to my perfect brother, a knocked up nineteen-year-old is hardly expected. If you just want to take some brownies, I can go. I don’t want to bother you.”

I shook my head hard and stepped out of the way. “No! Come in! Please. I was just surprised.”

She came in and put the brownies down on my desk. “I’ve had my own run-ins with those cheerleaders. Cass is usually nice but the others… They’re all running for the part of real-life Regina George. Brownies always help, though, so I wanted to bring some over.”

I sank on the edge of my bed and played with the hem of my shorts. “If you heard what they said you would’ve brought over a salad.”

She hissed and started pulling things out of her bag. I felt like I was watching Mary Poppins as more and more stuff appeared. “Bullshit. Don’t let them get to you. You’re so pretty, Savannah.”

I sighed. “I was standing in front of my mirror, counting all my flaws when you knocked. I should really be bringing you baked goods for cutting that short.”

I hadn’t meant to be so open. I didn’t know this girl and she was Jax’s sister. There was just something in the kind way her eyes looked back at me. I knew she had a lot of her own stuff going on, too, so I felt a kinship where maybe I shouldn’t have.

“Seriously? Fuck those bitches.” She blushed.

“Sorry. I know I’m supposed to be swearing less for when the baby comes but I hate those bitches.

You’re so, so pretty. And I know for a fact that almost every man that walks by you looks twice.

You have curves for days, girl, and in all the right places.

Not like me. Mine all went straight to my front and center. ”

I grinned at her. “I never got why people have to stop cussing the moment the baby comes. It’s not like they can understand swears right away, right?

I’d never admit this to anyone else but I think it’s the most hilarious thing in the world when a little kid cusses.

As for my curves and the men looking twice…

I’m worried that your baby bump is distorting your vision. ”

She laughed and tossed a glue stick at me. “Come down here. Grab the brownies first, though. I like to get a little arts and crafty when I’m sad and no one else likes to do it with me. I was hoping that maybe you were an arts and crafts type.”

Tears peppered my eyes when I saw the hopeful look in hers. I barely knew her name and already I could feel a real friendship forming. Grabbing the brownies I sat across the unrolled paper from her and looked at all the things she’d laid out.

“I like to use finger paints. I know it’s weird and a lot of people don’t want paint staining their nails but it helps me feel calm. But I have other paint, markers, crayons, and-”

“It would be rude for me to turn my back on your favorite medium without giving it a try.” I pulled my shirt over my head, leaving me in a camisole I wouldn’t mind staining, and cracked my knuckles.

“Wait. I want a brownie first. I know it makes no sense when I was just thinking about fat rolls a few minutes ago but I need chocolate sustenance.”

“Oh! I also brought ice cream!” She pulled a large, flat thermos type container out of the bag and opened it. “I made it myself!”

I leaned forward and looked into the bag. “What the hell? How many things can you get in this thing?”

She pulled two small wrapped sets of utensils out and blushed. “Before my family found me annoying they called me Poppins. I’m just really good at stacking a bag to make things fit. Or a car. Or…anything, really.”

While unwrapping my spoon I frowned at her. “You’re not annoying. I think Poppins is a brilliant nickname for you, though.”

Her eyes lit up. “I’ll think up a name for you, too.”

Feeling vulnerable and hopeful at once, I swallowed and took a deep breath. “My family calls me Vannah.”

She leaned over and squeezed my hand. “Nice to meet you, Vannah.”

I squeezed back. “Nice to meet you, too, Poppins.”