My Big Fat Crush

Chapter 1

As soon as the bell above the coffee shop door chimed, I knew it was him—my crush. 

I could feel it before I even looked up from the register. It was like my body had its own way of recognizing him, of responding to his presence in a way I couldn’t control. My heart skipped a beat, and then another, as if it had forgotten how to maintain a normal rhythm.

I dared a glance up, just enough to catch him walking through the door, and that was all it took. The weight of my entire body seemed to pull at me, grounding me even as my pulse quickened and a warmth spread across my chest. My hands resting on my knees as I sat behind the counter trembled just a little, and I had to force myself to stay still. It’s such an odd feeling to be both nervous and strangely calm all at once. Like the sight of him made everything around me fade away, and all that mattered was him.

My cheeks were hot; I could feel the blush creeping in as I stared just a moment too long. The way he moved, with heavy, deliberate steps that seemed to echo through the shop, made everything else feel slower, more intentional. He lumbered in, his broad frame carefully navigating through the narrow spaces between the tables. I watched as he adjusted himself with subtle movements, making sure not to bump into chairs or the edges of the counter.

It wasn’t graceful in the traditional sense, but there was something about the way he moved that made it seem like the world had to shift around him, like he was important enough to make space for. The weight of his presence—literally and figuratively—changed the atmosphere of the room every time he entered. My whole world shifted every time I saw him.

It wasn’t just nerves. There was something else, something that made me feel content, as if seeing him was the one constant in my day that I could always count on. Even though my hands shook and my pulse raced, deep down, I was calm, like I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be at that moment.

“Anastasia, today is going to be different,” I told myself when I walked into work that morning. For weeks I had been much too shy to say anything more to him than the typical routine, keeping things professional as usual, but today I was going to do something bold—well, bold for me anyway. My big crush always ordered the same thing for himself every time he came into the coffee shop: a coffee and a sandwich. I decided that today I was going to slip in an extra sandwich. Nothing too crazy, just a little something extra that he wouldn’t notice until after he’d already left. Maybe, just maybe, he’d put two and two together and realize that this was my introverted way of flirting. I know that it’s not much, but it felt like a grand gesture to me, a way of reaching out without having to actually say anything. My nerves were already starting to jitter just thinking about it, but I knew that I had to do this.

I glanced over at him as he stood in line, and I couldn’t help but smile. He was quite a bit older than me, middle-aged and handsome with gray creeping into his temples, and of course he had a big and round belly that I absolutely adored! Oh, that belly—it was impossible not to notice how his sweater vest clung to it, accentuating its bountiful curvature. He wore those sweater vests every day, and they always seemed to hug him just right. I tried not to stare too much, but I couldn't help it. There was just something so terribly endearing about it.

He also had these thick-rimmed glasses that gave him a nerdy, intellectual vibe, like he could be a teacher or a professor or something. I imagined him lecturing at some university, his belly softly resting against a desk as he flipped through pages of a textbook. There was just something about him that drew me in—his age, his size, his quiet, unassuming presence.

Later that night, I sat cross-legged on the couch in my tiny apartment, recounting the events of the day with my roommate Eloise. She was brushing her hair in front of the mirror, half-listening until I got to the part about the extra sandwich.

"Why would you do that?" she asked, her brush pausing mid-stroke. 

"It’s not a big deal. My boss will never notice, and it’s not like this mystery man is going to even notice until he’s gone," I explained, trying to sound nonchalant, but the truth was, I was still buzzing with the thrill of it. “He’ll probably think it was just a mix-up in the order.” 

Eloise let out a sigh and put the brush down. "Anastasia, I don't get it. Why would you risk your job over some random fat guy? I mean, couldn’t you get fired?"

“No way I’m getting fired,” I said as I shrugged. "It’s just one sandwich, Eloise. Like I said, I doubt anyone’s going to notice."

She shook her head, clearly unimpressed with my logic. "Anastasia, you’re a beautiful girl, you know that, right?" She came and sat next to me on the couch, her tone soft but firm. "Just because you’re a little overweight yourself doesn’t mean you should settle for a man who’s old enough to be your father."

I rolled my eyes, knowing where this conversation was headed. Eloise always had this idea that because I wasn’t stick-thin, I had some sort of warped self-esteem issue. Nothing could have been further than the truth.

"It’s not about settling," I said as I ran my hands along my legs, feeling how thick and meaty they are. "I’m not interested in him because I feel like I can’t do better. I like him because I think that he’s hot just the way he is. I genuinely think that he is attractive."

Eloise blinked at me, clearly baffled. "Ugh, but he’s so old,” Eloise griped, “and he’s fat. You’re, like, young and pretty. Why not go for someone your own age who, I don’t know, goes to the gym or something?"

I could feel a familiar warmth creeping into my cheeks, an excitement rising inside of me. "I’ve been fascinated by fat people for as long as I can remember,” I told her, sitting up straight as my posture relaxed. “When I was a kid, I used to look at adults who were fat and wish I could be like them. I wanted to feel that way about myself, so I started eating more. I’d sneak snacks into my room, keep private stashes of junk food, and little by little, I started getting bigger. And the bigger I got, the more I liked it."

Eloise’s eyes widened a bit, and she put down her brush again, clearly not expecting this turn in the conversation. "So you’re saying that you wanted to get fat?"

I nodded, a small smile playing at my lips. "The more weight I put on, the more obsessed I became with getting bigger. I loved how my body was changing, and I was always fascinated by other fat people, too—especially men. There’s just something about a big-bellied man that I find so appealing."

Eloise was silent for a moment, processing, but I wasn’t done. "And it’s not just that he’s fat. There’s something about him being older, too. Guys our age are so immature and irresponsible. They don’t know what they want, and they just don’t have their shit together. But a man like him? He’s old enough to know exactly what he wants out of life. He’s settled. He’s confident. I like that about him."

Eloise leaned back on the couch, crossing her arms. "I don’t know what to say, Anastasia. That’s a lot to take in." She paused, her expression softening. "But if you really feel that way, if this is what you want, then I guess you know what’s best for you."

I appreciated Eloise’s vote of confidence, even if she couldn’t fully comprehend what I was telling her. It seemed as if I had done a good enough job of convincing her that I knew exactly what I was doing and that I had everything under control—if only I could convince myself of that.