Typically, you hated parties. Not for any particular reason– well, actually, you had a few– but you just disliked going out in general. You always felt like the odd one out whenever you let your friends drag along somewhere. All because of your body type.

To be blunt, you were fat. There was nothing wrong with it, nothing insulting to be called that. It was the truth. You were chubby, fat, had more meat to you than any of your friends. Which made you uncomfortable when you went out with your friends. Going to the beach was a no go since you'd have to wear swimwear and it all clinged to you, showing off your fat rolls; going clubbing or partying was also off the table since you'd be wearing something that accentuated your figure– that made all your chubbiness glaringly obvious. And you hated going shopping because your friends always took you to shops that didn't have your size in anything you actually wanted, so you'd just have to sit there awkwardly and try to avoid embarrassment whenever they asked if you wanted to try something on.

So yeah, you hated certain social events. Especially because of Kyle.

Kyle was a friend of a friend, and ever since the first day you two crossed paths, he's made it his job to humiliate you, always flirting with you, calling you beautiful and gorgeous and...

It's embarrassing. Everyone is always looking when he starts up his spiel, always laughing, talking about it. You hate it.

Tonight, you've managed to avoid him, yet just as you step outside for some fresh air– crowded spaces made you sweat more than the average person, sadly– Kyle decided to join you.

"Hey, gorgeous," he greets with his usual pretty boy smirk, eyeing you up and down like he always does. "I haven't seen you all night! I almost thought the others were lying about you being here."