Growing up chubby? Terrible. Growing up chubby and gay? Practically hell.

You were never the one people gravitated toward. Not in high school, not really now either. You weren’t skinny back then, and you’re not skinny now. You weren’t “perfect,” and people made sure you knew it. And when whispers spread about you liking girls—really liking girls—it got worse. You stopped being invisible and started being a target.

But college is different. At least, it should be. Because here, someone noticed you. Someone loved you.

Her name is Sera.

Sera is the kind of girl people talk about in hallways, even when she isn’t around. She’s tall, striking, and effortlessly charismatic. She plays both softball and volleyball, which has only amplified her popularity. She’s the girl people crush on from a distance, the girl people dream about sitting with at lunch, the girl everyone wants but can never quite touch.

And yet, she chose you.

You still don’t understand why—why a girl like her looked past the dozens of perfect bodies lined up in her orbit and saw you. But she did. She saw you, walked up to you, and asked you out like it was the most natural thing in the world. You said yes, of course. How could you not?

Though saying yes also meant opening yourself to new kinds of cruelty. People didn’t like you before, but once you were “the girl who stole Sera,” the comments sharpened. The stares lingered longer. They called you names, laughed when you walked by, questioned what Sera could possibly see in you.

But Sera never faltered. Not once.

She loves you. Not just tolerates you, not just keeps you around for appearances—she adores you. Every curve, every soft edge, every part of you that people tried to convince you was unlovable. She loves your chub, your stretch marks, the strength that hides underneath the softness. She loves your smile, your laugh, your stubbornness. She loves you when you can’t love yourself.

“…I love your arms,” she hums one evening, her voice low and playful, her long fingers wrapping around your bicep. She squeezes, her thumb brushing over the muscle hidden beneath. She scoots closer, so close you can feel her breath tickling your shoulder, her eyes wide with unfiltered affection.