“Try not to join any mosh pits. You don’t want to break a hip.”
“Very funny.” He ambles to the front door but pauses before opening it. “Dammit. Where’d I put my keys?”
I pick up my spoon. “In your pocket.”
I tug on the bottom of my blouse as I walk toward the brick building flooding with students. I really wish I’d purchased the top in a bigger size so it would stop riding up. Lord knows the last thing anyone wants to see is my stomach peeking out. Drawing a breath, I try to suck it in, but it’s no use. I could inhale until my lungs explode, but my belly will still extend beyond the waistband of my size eighteen jeans.
Jealousy blooms in my chest as I look around the parking lot, taking in every pretty girl with a toned, flat abdomen.
The small town of Hillcrest might only have a population of four thousand and one, but there must be something in the water here because almost everyone is good-looking.
And that included my mom.
According to both pictures and my dad, she was gorgeous, tall, and thin with the voice of an angel. However, I didn’t inherit any of those qualities from her. Well, other than my love of singing in the shower when my dad isn’t home.
No, I’m the spitting image of my dad. Short, brunette, brown eyes, bad eyesight, ordinary looks…and stuck somewhere between chubby and obese.
“Take a picture, fat ass. It will last longer.”
Sabrina Simmons. My archenemy and the bane of my existence. The girl is such a bitch she makes Regina George look like Mary Poppins.
Beautiful, popular, and the captain of the dance team—everyone at Hillcrest is obsessed with her.
However, she hates me.
Which, of course, makes everyone else follow suit.
I quickly realize there are two choices. One—I could ignore her, which will only make it worse. Or, two—I could give her a taste of her own medicine…which will also make it worse.
Basically, there are no good options here, so I go with the one that won’t make me late for class. I stride past her.
“Either your clothes shrunk or you’re getting fatter,” she calls out behind me.
“Come on, we all know it’s the second one,” Draven Turner, football team captain and Sabrina’s sometimes boyfriend, adds. “The bitch is so fat when she steps on the scale it says, to be continued.”
Their little group erupts in laughter and I want nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
Whoever said ignoring a bully was the best course of action was either a fucking idiot or someone who never experienced true torment.
The fact we’re graduating in a month and they’re still making fun of me is honestly absurd.
Absurd and scary. I used to tell myself all this fat-shaming bullshit would end after high school, but now I’m beginning to think that asshole kids grow up to become even bigger asshole adults and society is doomed.
One thing’s for sure, though. I’m sick and tired of being their punching bag.
I spin around. Draven’s arm is slung around Sabrina’s slim shoulders, making it clear they’re back together again.
I might not be able to attack their looks, but I can still hit them where it hurts.
“Wow.” My smile is every bit as fake as Sabrina’s extensions as I recall the latest drama circulating around Hillcrest. “I thought after you caught Sabrina screwing Phoenix in the parking lot during prom, you’d be done with her for good.” I hike my purse up on my shoulder. “But look at you two…back together again. I guess true love really does exist.”
The group goes silent, but it’s clear by the anger illuminating Draven’s face and the daggers Sabrina’s glaring at me that my work here is done.
I’ve barely turned around when the happy couple starts yelling at each other.
Truth be told, it’s not like I can blame Sabrina for hooking up with Phoenix Walker.
He’s as gorgeous as he is mystifying.
He doesn’t hang with the popular crowd, but he’s definitely not in Loserville, either. He doesn’t talk much, but when he does, you can’t help but listen because there’s something about his deep, raspy voice—about him—that puts you under a spell.
The second he walks into a room, he sucks all the oxygen out of it and commands your attention.
God must be a comedian listening in on my thoughts because goose bumps break out along my flesh and my temperature rises.
Don’t look.
But I can’t help myself. I’m a masochist.
My mouth goes dry, and the earth tilts on its axis when I turn and piercing blue eyes hold me hostage.