It’s been years since I’ve binged.
Standing in nothing but a bra and boy shorts, I assess my body. Only, instead of appreciating my curves and focusing on the things I like—my old demons have come back to haunt me.
And they sound just like Sabrina and her friends.
Because if they were here right now…
They’d tell me my stomach isn’t flat or toned enough.
That my thighs are still too big.
That the cellulite on my huge, jiggly ass is hideous.
That a size ten is still a double-digit…and therefore not acceptable.
That me not giving a fuck what they think because I lost weight for the right reasons doesn’t matter…because I’ll always be the fat girl.
Perhaps they’re right.
My eyes burn and a tear escapes down my cheek as I reach for the black Sharpie I borrowed from Skylar earlier.
Walking over to the bed, I position the marker over my upper thigh and press down, writing my first word. Fat.
Emotions collide in my chest as my mind flits back to the pig-slop incident.
The way everyone oinked and laughed at me.
How I felt so gross I legitimately wanted to die.
How mortifying it was when Phoenix arrived and saw me like that. Because the secret world I created in my head—the one where I pretended that boys like Phoenix chose girls like me—could no longer exist.
It had been infiltrated by the real world.
And in the real world…boys like him don’t want me.
They want Sabrina.
Another tear falls as I etch the second word on my other thigh. Pig.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know what I’m doing is wrong, but I can’t seem to stop.
Seeing Sabrina was the equivalent of carving open an old scar you thought had healed.
But scar tissue never goes away. You just make a conscious effort not to let it define you until it fades into the background.
Kind of like an old box of keepsakes you stuck in the back of your closet.
Only these memories aren’t good ones.
I angle the marker over my lower stomach. I might not be able to remember the specifics of every bullying episode clearly because it was a daily occurrence, but I remember exactly how it made me feel.
Like I wasn’t good enough.
Like I didn’t belong.
Like I’d never be special.
I’m penning another word when I hear the door to Phoenix’s room open, followed by his deep voice.
“I’m shot. You should go back to your room.”
Bile rises up my throat. Shot from all the sex they had.
“We can be quick,” Sabrina says in a seductive, breathy tone.
One I’m sure turned him on dozens of times in the past.
“Can’t. I gotta be up early. I have an interview in the morning.”
I stop writing. No, he doesn’t.
“Come on, Phoenix,” Sabrina whines before her voice fills with anger. “Don’t invite me to your show, act like you’re gonna fuck me, and then not follow through like last time.”
Hold the freaking phone. What?
I shake my head, feeling like an idiot. For all I know they’ve seen each other lots of times since then and she’s referring to a different night.
“Look, I’m beat,” Phoenix grits out. “I’ll see you at the show tomorrow night.”
The sound of Sabrina’s heels clacking down the hallway fades away as I ponder what his deal is.
He invited her here so he could fuck her, yet he turned her down. It doesn’t make any sense.
Without warning, the door connecting our rooms swings open and Phoenix marches inside.
I quickly reach for my shirt on the bed and shield myself. “Jesus. Do you ever knock?”
How the hell did he even get in here to begin with? I locked the door.
My back teeth meet with a clack when I notice the card in his hand. Bastard.
“You’ve been crying.”
Springing off the bed, I point to the door. “Astute observation, captain obvious. Now get out.”
“Lennon.”
The way he says my name—all full of concern, like he actually gives a shit about me—is almost more than I can handle right now.
He’s standing in front of me in three quick strides. “What’s wrong?”
“Leave me alone.”
He’s already done enough.
Long fingers tip my chin, and he studies my face, as if doing so will give him the answers he’s seeking. “Talk to me.”
There’s a weird note laden in his tone.
Something I haven’t heard since that night we were fighting in his car after we had sex—well, partial sex—on Storm’s futon and he realized I was a virgin.