It was Thursday night and I was home with nowhere to go and no one to talk to. My head was buzzing with noise. Dutch couldn’t really love a girl like me. I didn’t deserve him. I wasn’t cut out for that life. It was too intense and too unpredictable. I belonged back where Dutch found me. That’s what played over and over again in my head as I sat feeling sorry for myself. It had been a week and a half since Dutch asked me to marry him and a week since I’d had any communication with him. Those three little words, I love you, were scary enough, but marriage? I didn’t tell him no, I didn’t tell him anything. I just snuck out after he fell asleep and never looked back. Of course, I was brave enough to text him and tell him I didn’t want to see him. Very mature of me. Now, I was moving on. I’d convinced myself that it wasn’t meant to be. I mean really, look at Dutch. There is no way a guy like him, a guy with a perfect body and those sexy blue eyes, was going to be satisfied with an overweight girl like me.
