AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Why couldn’t epiphanies ever be something that I wanted to deal with? Instead, it was always some stark light of truth on the ugliest, darkest, and saddest parts of myself that I wanted to hide from everyone—including me.
I downed both shots.
“So it’s going to be that kind of night?” April asked.
“I work hard. I deserve to have a good time.”
“We both do.” She waved her arm and one the servers came over. “I don’t want to run back to the bar all night. Start me a tab? Bring us six more rum shots and a Manhattan.”
She took the Manhattan and gave me the shots.
Another hash mark on the douche scorecard. I’d been so shitty to her and now she was buying my drinks.
“Thanks,” I said, sincere.
“Tonight’s about having fun, right?”
Except she didn’t look like she was having fun. She looked miserable and Kieran wasn’t even on the floor yet.
I downed my shots—one right after another.
Sometimes, I was glad for my alcohol tolerance and then other times, I wished I was a lightweight so five dollars would put me in that warm, fuzzy place where everything seemed like a good idea.
The lights went down and a bachelorette party started shrieking when the routines started. Yeah, I definitely needed those shots.
I was surprised to see Gavin on stage again as the opening act.
April choked on her Manhattan.
“Didn’t you see him last night?”
“No. I might have snuck up to the dressing room when you went upstairs.” She flashed me a guilty look.
I wouldn’t think about what she was doing there. Or who she was doing it with. God, I needed another shot. Something to numb my brain and my heart.
I tried to watch what was going on in front of me. Tried to forget what Gavin said to me, tried to forget what he was like when he was talking and watched him shake his goods, but I wasn’t into it. He was pretty, but every time I saw him, I remembered that I was pretty for a fat girl.
I knew I should just let it go. It didn’t matter what he thought or what he said. I had to live with myself. He didn’t. Maybe I’d buy myself a new dress tomorrow. If I was going to love myself, I should give myself presents, right?
Although, the best present I could give myself right now would be to leave. To go home and take my soon to be drunk ass to bed.
April wandered off, but that didn’t surprise me. She was probably trying to find Kieran for some alone time.
It was like that Killers song—I kept seeing every foul thing they could do to each other and it played out like some sick movie in my head. I didn’t want to see it, but I couldn’t stop.
I’d seen April naked. I knew she didn’t have stretch marks, in fact, she had a cute belly button piercing. The bar she wore had a delicate little ladybug on the end. She didn’t have any extra fat at all and her boobs would stand up without a bra.
It wasn’t hard to picture them together at all. April was just his type. Beautiful people… I slammed back another shot of rum.
I didn’t want to even try to picture myself with Kieran, because I wouldn’t be able to see anything anyway. I’d want all the lights off.
The room finally started to spin just a little bit, almost like a merry-go-round. And yet, all the fucks I wished I didn’t give were still right there in my face.
7
Saturday morning dawned bright, early, and made me want to puke. It was the day of the shoot and we were all meeting at Longview Lake. The guys were bringing their muscles, their fast cars, and the girls were bringing their fabulous selves.
When I’d conceived of this grand idea, I thought it was the best thing since wide calf boots. But this was going to be my brand, the face I showed to the web and I would stand or fall based on people’s impressions of me.
No matter what I said, Chubbalicious was me.
I was Chubbalicious—in more ways than one.
What was I doing? Why had I ever thought I could do this? Doubt spun like so much sticky, rancid cotton candy and buried my face in the bowl of my hands.
This was utter bullshit. This self-doubt, this fear… Neither of those things were going to help me, so I had to put them out of my head. Chubbalicious was what I wanted and I’d never get it if I was afraid to reach for it. I had to trust myself. Especially since I’d already paid the photographer.
Shit, the photographer. It was eight, and Ryan was going to be here in thirty minutes. I’d promised him breakfast. He was a journalism student at the university and the promise of a meal had been more motivation than the small fee I’d paid him.
He’d offered to do it for free, but I believed in paying artists for their work. I couldn’t believe how many people had asked me to design clothes for them and tell me that my payment would be exposure, that I could put it in my portfolio.
