Sadie

Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Waiting in the Shadows

Sadie Thompson sat cross-legged on her sagging couch in the one-bedroom apartment just off the SMU campus, the late-September Texas heat pressing against the windows like an uninvited guest. The clock on her phone read 4:52 p.m., and she had checked it so many times that the screen was smudged with fingerprints. Two months. It had been over two months since she’d last seen Matt, and every day of that silence had felt like a slow erosion of whatever fragile confidence she had left.
At 22 years old and 272 pounds, Sadie was painfully aware of every inch of herself. The scale in her bathroom—a cheap digital one she’d bought at Target last spring—had blinked that number at her just yesterday morning, and she’d stared at it for a full minute before stepping off, tears blurring the red digits. Two-seven-two. She hated how clinical it sounded, how permanent. Back in her small Illinois hometown she’d been 135 pounds of lean muscle and cheerleader bounces. College had unraveled all of that, one skipped workout, one late-night order of wings, one “I’ll start tomorrow” at a time.
Now her body was soft everywhere. Her thighs spread wide when she sat, pressing against each other until they touched all the way to her knees. Her belly rested heavily on her lap, a rounded apron that spilled over the waistband of her denim shorts. Her arms were thick and dimpled; her upper chest and back carried rolls that made finding bras an ordeal. Even her face had changed—cheeks fuller, a second chin that appeared whenever she looked down at her phone. She avoided full-length mirrors whenever possible, but the apartment had too many reflective surfaces: the dark screen of the TV, the microwave door, the sliding closet mirrors she couldn’t cover completely.
Sadie was sweet to a fault. People always said so. Mild-mannered, polite, quick to apologize even when someone else bumped into her. She never raised her voice, never demanded anything, never stood up for herself. That gentleness made her easy to like on the surface—classmates invited her to group study sessions, acquaintances waved in the hallways—but it also kept everyone at arm’s length. No one got close enough to see how deeply insecure she was, how often she cried alone in this apartment after a bad day of clothes not fitting or catching her reflection at the wrong angle.
She had friends, but not confidantes. Weekends were usually spent alone: ordering takeout, baking sweets she didn’t need, watching comfort shows until 3 a.m. The solitude was familiar, almost comforting in its predictability. Food was her most reliable companion—always there, always soothing the ache of loneliness and self-loathing.
And then there was Matt.
Sadie’s mind circled back to him the way it always did when she was alone. They’d met at a crowded off-campus party last April. She’d gone only because a girl from her marketing class had insisted, and Sadie hated saying no. She’d worn a loose black top that she thought hid her figure, but alcohol and nerves had loosened her guard. Matt had appeared beside her at the keg—tall, broad-shouldered, effortlessly handsome with tousled dark hair and a smile that made people gravitate toward him. He was the kind of guy who dated sorority girls with flat stomachs and highlighted hair.
They’d talked, laughed, drank too much. Somehow they ended up back at her apartment. Sadie still didn’t know exactly how it escalated so fast—kisses in the hallway, hands under shirts, stumbling into her bedroom. She’d tried to keep the lights off, mortified at the thought of him seeing her naked. She remembered clutching the sheet to her chest, whispering, “Maybe we shouldn’t…” But Matt had been drunk and persistent, tugging the fabric away, murmuring, “Come on, let me see you.”
The next morning she’d woken in a panic, convinced he’d regret everything once he was sober. She’d lain rigid beside him, sheet pulled up to her chin, waiting for him to slip out quietly. Instead he’d rolled over, grinned sleepily, and kissed her shoulder. “Morning, gorgeous.” He’d traced the curve of her hip over the sheet, then under it, and told her he’d had an amazing time. When she tried to cover herself again, shy and disbelieving, he’d laughed softly and pulled her hands away. “Stop hiding. I like what I see.”
They’d had sex again that morning—slow, hungover, but enthusiastic on his part. Afterward he’d lounged in her bed scrolling his phone while she made coffee, wearing his oversized T-shirt that barely covered her thighs. He’d watched her move around the kitchen with open appreciation, making little comments: “Damn, you fill that shirt out better than I do,” and “That ass in those panties—Jesus, Sadie.”
It had felt like a dream. No guy had ever looked at her new body that way. But then came the condition.
“We should keep doing this,” he’d said casually, sipping the coffee she’d brought him. “But let’s keep it low-key, yeah? I’m not really looking for anything public right now.”
Sadie had nodded immediately, heart sinking but voice steady. “Yeah, of course. Whatever you want.”
She hadn’t argued. She never did.
Over the rest of spring semester they’d hooked up regularly—always at her place, always when his roommates were out or when he texted late at night. Matt could be incredibly sweet in those moments: bringing her favorite snacks, cuddling after sex, telling her she was beautiful. But he also teased her constantly about her weight, in a way he seemed to think was playful.
He’d grab her belly and jiggle it lightly, chuckling, “Look at this cute little pouch.” Or he’d pat her thigh and say, “These thighs could crush me and I’d die happy.” Sometimes he’d hold her from behind in front of the mirror, hands spanning her waist—or trying to—and grin over her shoulder. “You’re so soft everywhere. Like a damn pillow.” He’d poke her sides, tickle her until she squealed, call her his “favorite plush girl.”
Sadie laughed along because that’s what she did. She smiled and blushed and let him, even when the comments stung. Deep down they reinforced every negative thought she already had about herself, but she told herself it was affection. He liked her body, right? He kept coming back. That had to mean something.
Summer had separated them. Matt traveled with friends—beach trips, Europe for a few weeks—while Sadie stayed in Dallas, taking a summer class and working part-time at a campus coffee shop. They texted sporadically. He’d send shirtless selfies from boats or pools surrounded by skinny bikini-clad girls, captioning them “Miss you.” She’d reply with heart emojis and “Miss you more,” trying not to wonder if he was hooking up with any of those girls.
Now senior year had started, and Sadie had deliberately chosen the apartment next to his. When he’d mentioned offhand last spring that he and his roommates were renewing their lease, she’d jumped on the vacant unit next door. Closer access, she’d thought. Maybe more time together.
It was almost 6:30 p.m. now. Still no text. Sadie had already eaten her way through a family-size bag of cheddar popcorn and half a sleeve of Oreos while waiting. The guilt sat heavy in her stomach alongside the food.
She stood slowly, feeling the familiar ache in her lower back from the extra weight. Waddling to the bedroom mirror, she studied herself critically. The navy tank top stretched tight across her chest and belly; the blue sports bra underneath created a visible line across her back. Her arms looked huge in the sleeveless cut. The denim shorts—size 22, bought online because stores never carried her size in stock—dug into her hips and thighs, leaving deep red indentations.
“He’s going to take one look and change his mind,” she whispered to her reflection. “Two months around fit girls… he’ll realize what he’s been settling for.”
A knock at the door jolted her out of the spiral.
Three sharp raps—confident, familiar.
Sadie’s heart slammed against her ribs. She hurried to the door as fast as her body allowed, pausing to smooth her shirt over her stomach (a futile gesture) and tuck flyaway hairs behind her ears.
Through the peephole: Matt, tanned and grinning, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, wearing a fitted T-shirt that showed off the definition he’d maintained all summer.
She opened the door, shy smile trembling on her lips. “Hey…”
“Hey, stranger.” He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, dropping his bag and pulling her into a hug.
His arms felt strong around her softer frame. Sadie tensed instinctively, hyper-aware of how her belly pressed against his flat stomach, how her breasts squished against his chest.
Matt pulled back, eyes sweeping over her slowly. Sadie braced herself.
“Damn, Sadie,” he said, voice low and teasing. “Look at you. Someone’s been enjoying summer a little too much, huh?”
He reached out and pinched the side of her belly gently, giving it a little shake. “Put on a few more pounds? This thing’s gotten bigger.”
Heat flooded Sadie’s face. She laughed nervously, the sound high and forced. “Yeah… I guess.”
Matt grinned wider, stepping closer and sliding both hands to her hips, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh there. “I’m not complaining. More to grab.” He squeezed, then slapped her butt lightly. “Missed this body.”
Relief and shame twisted together in her chest. He still wanted her. That was good. But the teasing… it always walked that line between playful and cruel.
He kissed her then, deep and hungry, backing her toward the couch. Clothes started coming off almost immediately—his shirt first, then hers tugged over her head despite her half-hearted attempt to keep it on.
When her bra came into view, Matt let out a low whistle. “Jesus. These tits just keep getting bigger.” He cupped them, thumbs brushing over the fabric. “What are you now? Like a double D? Triple?”
Sadie mumbled something incoherent, face burning. She tried to cross her arms over her chest, but he gently pulled them away.
“Don’t hide from me. You know I love this.”
And he did seem to—at least physically. His touches were eager, reverent in their own way. He spent long minutes kissing her neck, her chest, her belly, murmuring things like “So fucking soft” and “You’re like my personal pillow.”
But between the affection came more teasing.
When she lay back on the couch and he knelt between her thighs, he spread them wide and chuckled. “Thunder thighs for real now. Could smother me and I’d go out smiling.”
Later, in her bed, he spooned her from behind, one arm draped over her waist, hand resting possessively on her stomach.
“You know,” he said into her hair, voice lazy and amused, “you keep eating like you did this summer and you’re gonna hit 300 before graduation.”
Sadie’s breath caught. She forced a small laugh. “Maybe…”
Matt squeezed her belly roll affectionately. “Wouldn’t hate it. More cushion for the pushin’, right?”
She closed her eyes, tears threatening. Part of her wanted to believe it was just his sense of humor. That he truly didn’t mind—no, that he liked—her size. Another part heard the mockery underneath and wondered why she let it continue.
But she didn’t say anything. She never did.
Instead she nestled back against him, savoring the warmth of his body against hers, the feeling of being wanted—even if only in secret, even if laced with jabs at her biggest insecurity.
Outside, the sun set over Dallas, and inside Sadie’s apartment the night stretched on, filled with touches both tender and teasing. For now, he was here. For now, that had to be enough.