An excerpt from chapter 3

“Fine.” I answered. Tony kind of looked like the Ultimate Warrior without his face paint. He had on a tight baby blue polo t-shirt with dark navy horizontal stripes, something I could never wear. His body was tanned, far more than it needed to be since he was obviously already dark-toned. He had new-tire black hair that he’d styled with gel to look like Superman. The tight polo forced the veins in his biceps to pop out of the sleeves all the way down to his forearms. His body amazed me because I had never seen that big of muscles on such a tanned body in person, except for when I stood in line at this very gym a year ago to get WWF Superstar Razor Ramon’s autograph when the gym opened. Since TV was the only place I’d ever seen a chest that big, I couldn’t even make eye contact with him, for fear that he would read what I was feeling when I looked at him: that my fat body was now as light as a feather, and that I wanted to fall from the sky slowly toward him, and right before landing peacefully mouth the words to him, “Hold me.”