There wasn't what you would call a moment of doubt, precisely. There was an ocean of moments, and the breaking waves were crested with mermaid Chloes in their skimpy seashell bras singing about how sometimes guys had "problems" when they didn't like what they saw. That they couldn't help it if they didn't like big girls. Wanting to be with Finn was like an ache that she felt in her bones when she looked at him, but there were always a chorus of voices that whispered that he could never feel the same way about her. There's a difference between liking someone, and wanting to sex them into oblivion. A significant difference. But sometimes there were moments of clarity, when Finn's mouth hovered above hers, his breath on her face, and his hands shaking where they rested on her arms. Those moments, the mermaid Chloes could go fuck themselves.