MeanGirls

  Mean Girls

  Lucy Felthouse

  Adele Blackthorne is a big girl, a curvy chick. She knows it, and she’s been picked on all her life because of it. But she’s gotten to the stage where she doesn’t care. She might be Rubenesque, but she’s healthy too. Much healthier than the mean girls at the leisure center who point and stare and say spiteful things about her. Adele rises above it all and simply enjoys her secretive glances at the center’s hunky lifeguard, Oliver.

  As the bullying of Adele becomes worse, Oliver finds it increasingly difficult not to intervene. He doesn’t want to get into trouble with work, but equally he can’t stand to see Adele treated in such a horrible way. Especially since he doesn’t agree that she’s fat and unattractive. He thinks she’s a seriously sexy woman, and would like to get to know her better—much better.

  A Romantica® contemporary erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

  Mean Girls

  Lucy Felthouse

  Chapter One

  As usual, Adele Blackthorne felt the weight of gazes on her as she walked from the changing room to the steps to get into the swimming pool. She was used to it by now and had learned not to react, just to carry on as though she hadn’t noticed people staring and not-so-subtly pointing at her.

  With a polite nod to Oliver, the lifeguard, as she passed him, Adele was grateful for his much more favorable reaction. If he thought she resembled a beached whale, he hid it much better than everyone else did. The warmth in his eyes as he nodded back even looked genuine. But she had no illusions—he probably slagged her off the moment he got into the staffroom, or home, talking about the fat woman who went swimming three times a week without fail. But for now she’d pretend he didn’t. Pretend he thought she was sexy and wanted to get lost in her abundant curves. God knew she’d like him to.

  It was true, she was a big girl and she was most definitely aware of it. Ever since she’d gotten to the age where her excess weight could no longer be called puppy fat, she’d tried to do something about it. Every diet under the sun, ridiculous amounts of exercise…nothing worked. Adele had grown so depressed in her teens that she’d become bulimic. Naturally she’d lost some weight that way, but she’d also made herself so ill that she’d had to be hospitalized. It had terrified the life out of her, and ever since she’d resolved that she’d much rather be healthy than skinny.

  Which was why she visited her local leisure center three times a week. She used the gym and sauna and went swimming. And every single time she went, she’d catch someone gawping at her. But because of the years she’d spent—especially at school—being called all the names under the sun, she’d developed an incredibly thick skin. She was happy and healthy—so healthy in fact that she could probably beat all of those skinny bitches at a swimming race. Of course she never offered, never called anyone out on their rudeness and ignorance, but it made her feel better to know that she was fitter and much more polite than them.

  Slipping into the fast lane, she settled her goggles carefully into position—she hated getting water in her eyes—then lifted her legs to rest the bottoms of her feet against the end of the pool. Looking at the clock on the wall that counted seconds, she waited until the hand reached the top, then pushed off from the side and launched herself into the lane. It was quiet, so she had this section of the pool to herself. Her arms cut through the water, her legs flapped wildly and she did ten laps without losing any speed. Emerging from the water, she checked the clock again and was pleased to note she’d beaten her previous time.

  She was just about to start another ten laps, when she heard voices from the other side of the pool. Voices that had clearly forgotten how well they carried on water. It was as though they were right next to her.

  “God, I’m surprised all the water doesn’t jump out of the pool when she gets in. And the way she swims—she’ll cause a tidal wave one of these days.”

  The spiteful words were followed by a trio of sniggers, and Adele gritted her teeth. Part of her wished that she could create a bloody tidal wave, so it would sweep those bitches underwater and drown them. The other part of her tsked at the thought. Ideas like that made her just as bad as them, just as unpleasant, just as cowardly.

  Because they were cowardly—the way they spoke about her behind her back proved that. If they ever passed her somewhere in the leisure center or its car park, they never said anything, not one word. They’d just scurry away as fast as they could, then titter when they thought she was out of earshot. She hoped that just one time, someone would say something to her face, so she could retaliate, speak up for herself. There was no way she’d start anything—she didn’t want to add “confrontational” to the list of faults that the mean girls had obviously compiled about her.

  Sucking in a deep breath, Adele launched into another ten laps, allowing the chilly water and the exertion of powering through it to burn away her irritation. Because that was all it was—irritation. She wasn’t angry. Anger was too powerful an emotion, and one that would be totally wasted on those ignorant women. She almost felt sorry for them, actually. If they had nothing better to do than to stare at her and slag her off all the time, then they clearly had very dull lives.

  The thought cheered her considerably and when she completed her twentieth lap, she lay her forearms on the edge of the pool and hoiked herself up. Her back was pressed against the side, and from there she had a perfect view of the rest of the pool. Tugging her goggles down so they hung around her neck, she had a damn good look at everyone else. The small children and their guardians in the kids’ pool right at the other end of the enormous hall, the old people who swam so slowly as they chatted that she was surprised they stayed afloat, the relentless movement of the man in the medium-speed lane and, of course, the mean girls who were in the same sort of position she was but at the side of the pool rather than the end. The side that faced the lifeguard station.

  Adele narrowed her eyes and watched them—the two waif-like blondes and a brunette—as they chatted and giggled, and it seemed for a change, not about her. They’d clearly changed the subject since their previous spouting of vitriol. Their focus was very firmly on Oliver as he sat on his lofty perch, surveying the pools before him, ready to jump in should anyone get into trouble. She often toyed with the idea of faking a problem just to get him into the pool and his strong arms around her. However, she knew that although he’d undoubtedly do his duty and help her, he’d never believe such a strong swimmer would need his assistance. Then he’d lose all respect for her and probably stop hiding his disdain for her so effectively. And the polite nods and smiles she got from him were the only thing—aside from the center’s top-notch facilities—that made the place bearable. She was sure that if the three witches—a nickname she’d secretly come up with for the women—had their way, there would be a sign on the main doors to the building saying, “No Fat People Allowed.”

  Well, fuck them. She had as much right to be there as they did and there was no way they were going to drive her out.

  She continued to watch as the three of them gazed at Oliver, batting their eyelashes and flicking their hair around. No wonder none of them wore goggles or swim hats—they’d be covering up their best flirting tools that way.

  Now, though, it was Adele’s turn to snigger—albeit almost inaudibly—as she noticed the reaction they were getting from Oliver. None. Nothing at all. Nada. She had no idea whether he knew what they were doing and he was just ignoring them or whether their antics had simply not registered with him at all. Either way, they were not very happy about it, and redoubled their efforts as his gaze focused on the deep end—the end Adele was currently in.

  His attention lingered in her direction, so she decided to take advantage of it and gave him a little wave and a smile. Her gest
ures were returned with enthusiasm, which set off a whole new wave of craziness from the three witches and a bunch of furious whispers. Adele didn’t care. In fact she was incredibly amused by the fact that Oliver was ignoring three attractive, toned women in order to pay attention to her. Now if only he meant it in a more-than-friendly way, her day would be made. But although she frequently daydreamed about him returning her affections, she wasn’t kidding herself. If by some miracle the divine Oliver Shaw was single, then he certainly wouldn’t be looking to date a size twenty, nearly forty-year-old. He was hot, with dark, almost black hair and the most amazing blue eyes she’d ever seen. That, coupled with his smokin’ body, gorgeous deep voice and cute smile, meant that if he was on the market, he’d no doubt be after someone equally sexy—to create a couple that would turn heads for all the right reasons. One of the mean girls would be much more his style.

  Wouldn’t they?

  If that was the case, why on earth did he keep glancing in her direction?

  Adele decided a visit to the sauna was needed. She’d never seen any of the three witches in there, so at least if she ended up with company, it wouldn’t be one of them. She doubted anyone would be in there, though. The sauna, for some reason, seemed to attract more men than women, and the vast majority of those men visited the gym early in the morning, presumably before heading to work. It was now 1.30 p.m.—the prime time for school parties, housewives, shift workers and people who worked whatever hours they pleased. Glad she was in the latter category—she was a chef, and part-owned a local pub-restaurant—Adele pulled herself from the pool with as much grace as she could muster and left the area, head held high.

  She was a big girl physically and she could certainly be the bigger woman in this silent stand-off, the most mature.

  The women were still so busy gawping at Oliver that they didn’t even notice her leave.

  Chapter Two

  Oliver gripped the arms of his lifeguard’s chair so hard he fancied they would splinter beneath his fingers. They didn’t, of course. He was strong but not superhuman. Which was the precise reason he was affected by the little scene that had just played out in front of him in the first place. If he’d been superhuman he’d have been able to ignore it.

  Adele had just left the pool before doing her usual thirty laps, and he didn’t blame her, not one bit. The skinny bitches that were still at the side of the pool opposite him had been so spiteful about her that he was surprised she hadn’t said something back. Her strength of character was obviously immense, as the poison those girls had been spouting was incredibly unpleasant and totally uncalled for. So Adele was a big girl. So fucking what? She was healthy and she was fit—what did it matter if she didn’t fit into society’s standard of what was an acceptable or attractive weight?

  He was sure, also, that if the trio of bitches weren’t so damn spiteful, then Adele would be happy too. She didn’t seem like someone who was obsessed with her weight or depressed about it. She just came across as a mature woman who enjoyed exercise and therefore did it because she wanted to, not because she felt she had to. Whatever her reasons, he was glad she did, because he’d spent many a happy hour on his tall chair watching her cut through the water at a speed that he suspected almost matched his. He was also relieved that his lofty position meant no one could see into his lap, because more often than not, checking out Adele as she did length after length made his cock stiffen and press insistently against the inside of his swimming trunks.

  He didn’t give a shit what size clothes she wore or that she was a few years older than him. In his opinion she was a seriously sexy woman and, after sharing a smile and a wave with her before she left, he made up his mind.

  He wanted to get to know her better. Then if he got the impression she wouldn’t shoot him down in flames, he’d pluck up the courage to ask her out. Provided she was single, of course. A woman as beautiful as Adele should not be alone but he found himself desperately hoping that she was.

  Oliver was so deep in thought that he had no idea how quickly the time was passing, so he was surprised when twenty minutes later his colleague Linda came to relieve him.

  “Thanks, Linda,” he said, climbing carefully down from his seat, grateful that his erection had abated, “I’ll see you later. I’m going to take advantage of my staff perks before I head home. I’m going to the sauna.”

  “Have fun,” Linda replied, flashing him a smile before she clambered into the seat he’d just vacated.

  “Will do,” he said, then took a shortcut through the men’s changing rooms out into the public corridor and punched the key code into the door that led down to the sauna and sun beds.

  He was looking forward to spending some time in the sauna. He really enjoyed the sensation of heat that was just a little too hot to begin with, then totally and utterly blissful once you got used to it. Taking advantage of free access to the area was something he didn’t do nearly enough of. He was a busy guy—studying for a sports science degree as well as working full-time—and he usually had a pretty packed schedule around the hours he was lifeguarding. But today he had some spare time and he was going to spend it chilling out in the sauna and trying to work out how he was going to get to know Adele better. He’d have to orchestrate some kind of meeting but he didn’t know where to start. She didn’t have a set schedule of times and days she came to the leisure center, so it wasn’t as if he could meet her accidentally-on-purpose in the car park or the corridor. He also had no idea where she lived or worked.

  Oliver shook himself. Where she lives or works? God, what was he thinking? Stalking her was definitely not the way to go about bumping into her. He’d just have to bide his time and hope that fate intervened somehow.

  He moved into the seating area outside the sauna and pulled off his flip-flops and T-shirt, put them on a chair in the corner, then headed for the shower. He knew some people liked to go straight into a sauna when they were dry, but he needed the barrier being wet provided—by the time the heat had removed all the moisture from his body he was acclimatized to the temperature and able to sit in the small, hot room for half an hour at a time, sometimes more.

  Dripping water all over the floor, Oliver took a long drink from the water fountain—there was no better way to make yourself feel crappy than going into a sauna without hydrating yourself—then straightened and walked to the sauna door, which was made of thick translucent glass. Pulling it open, he slipped inside quickly—people understandably got arsey if others let the heat out—and clicked it closed behind him.

  Stepping straight up to the top level and sitting down, he let his eyes get used to the dim light. Then he looked around to see who he was sharing the space with. Immediately he was glad he was sitting down, because Adele was sitting in the opposite corner to him, staring at him expectantly.

  “Are you following me?” Her tone was stern but a small lift of one side of her mouth told him that she was joking.

  “Nope,” he said, trying his best to keep his cool—not the easiest thing to do considering his location, “just taking advantage of the perks of the job.” He waved his hand to indicate the room. “Though I have to admit I’m glad you’re here.”

  Fuck, what the hell had he said that for?

  “You are?” She sounded genuinely surprised.

  “Yeah,” he said softly, realizing how he could get out of sounding as though he was keen on her. “I saw what happened in the pool earlier, and I just wondered…well, if you’re all right.”

  She snorted, usually a very unattractive action. He wasn’t sure how—perhaps it was the heat melting his brain, or the low light—but she managed to get away with it.

  “What, because of those bitches? Excuse my language, sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” he replied, grinning, “I don’t mind swearing. I’m guilty of doing rather a lot of it myself. And come on, let’s be honest, saying ‘those rotters’ wouldn’t have had quite the same effect, would it?”

  “That’s true. Thanks f
or asking. I’m all right. I’m used to it—I’ve been bullied, insulted, stared at and pointed at ever since I was a teenager. At nearly forty it’s like water off a duck’s back.”

  “Wow, nearly forty?”

  There you go again, Ol, blurting out things you shouldn’t.

  “S-sorry,” he wanted the ground to swallow him up as Adele raised her eyebrows, “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that I didn’t think you were that old—oh fuck—I mean you look younger than you are. Sorry. For God’s sake, me and my big mouth. I meant it in a nice way!”

  There was a second or two of silence, then Adele did something that Oliver had absolutely not been expecting. She burst out laughing—a hearty belly laugh that made her body shake and her eyes water. It was infectious. He hadn’t forgotten his stupidity, far from it, but once he started laughing he couldn’t stop.

  They were ensconced in mirth for a good few minutes. As one of them grew close to being able to stop, they’d catch sight of the other and start all over again. And so it continued until finally Adele caught enough breath to speak.

  “Ohh, ohh, stop it! My stomach hurts now. Hey, I shouldn’t complain, should I? It might have toned me up a bit.” She moved a hand to her tummy and grabbed a handful of flesh through her navy-blue swimsuit. “Oh, bollocks. Wishful thinking, eh?”

  “You don’t need to wish things like that,” Oliver replied after sucking in a breath. “You’re lovely as you are.”

  “Phht! If only. You’re just being nice now, trying to cheer me up.”

  He figured he’d gotten this far, he might as well put his heart on his nonexistent sleeve. “I’m not. I admit I hate the thought of those, those vipers upsetting you, but I’m telling the truth.” He paused. “Adele, I’ve liked you for ages, ever since you started coming here, really. I know thin girls are the ‘in thing’ but they do nothing for me—especially ones as spiteful as those three. You are…oh, I dunno, I’m not saying any more because I’m clearly embarrassing myself.”