All day I told myself that no matter what happened, I wouldn’t let my parents fall for him too. Honestly, now I realize what a big mistake it was to bring him here in the first place.
He’s bonding with my dad over football, stealing my mom’s heart by telling her how amazing her food tastes. It’s torture, I’m telling you. Pure torture. Because the only thing I feel is this overwhelming sense of dread. Because not only is this perfect man breaking every single girl code rule in the book, but every second feels just a little bit closer to goodbye.
It feels like an hourglass, and time is running out. Like I’m running nonstop from something that inevitably going to happen. It’s causing my anxiety to spike and my appetite to disappear. I push the salad around my plate with a fork.
“Honey, are you okay?” My mom asks, worry filling her voice.
“Yeah, I’m just not so hungry.”
She looks at me, and to Eric, then back to me. “If you need help again, honey. All you have to do is say something.”
“Mom. I told you I’m fine. I’m just stressed out.”
Eric cuts into his steak, noticing the awkward silence. My mom’s eyes are still trained on my plate and the fact that the food isn’t in my mouth.
“Would you stop staring at me like that? I’m eating, okay. I’m just not hungry right now.”
Eric doesn’t speak, but I can tell he’s curious. Starting to look at me the same way my mother is. Like I’m sick. Like I need help. Like I should just eat something. Cause it’s that easy.
And usually, it is. I haven’t gone through an episode like this in a bit and when the anxiety starts to eat me alive. I just don’t eat.
I can’t.
I don’t have near as many cameras following me anymore now that Ashton is out of my life, but I needed to look my best. I’d stare at myself in the mirror and hate the girl looking back at me. Every time someone would tell me how pretty I was or how great I looked with the weight off, it made me feel so dead inside. I felt like I had to keep it up.
Ashton didn’t help. He made it a lot worse, actually. Sometimes after eating, he would make me feel so guilty. I would go make myself throw up after. It made me feel better. To get rid of it. Sometimes Ashton would even walk me to the bathroom after we ate. He didn’t care how bad it was for my body.
After therapy, when Ashton and I broke up, it’s when I knew I wanted to start getting healthy. I started eating right and exercising like I should. My body completely morphed into something completely different, and now I’m helping other people reach their fitness goals without starving themselves.
Everyone finishes up their dinner, placing the dishes one by one into the kitchen sink as I help mom put away the leftovers.
“Karly, Eric, and I are going to hit up the golf course in the morning. He claims he can show me a few tricks.” Dad beams, ready for some bro time.
“Oh, that’s wonderful. Karly and I will spend some time in town. There’s a new restaurant I’ve wanted to show her. Plus, we can hit up that store you like so much. What is it again? Fru-Fru Pineapple or something?”
“Lu lu Lemon, mom. It’s Lu lu le-mon.” I pronounce.
Eric laughs, bending to whisper in my ear, “I like those leggings also.”
I playfully smack his arm and swoon at how inappropriate that was but also totally hot.
“I think I’m going to steal Eric away for the rest of the night,” I announce, “I’m tired.”
“Spare us the details, sis.” My dad winks.
I purse my lips and then smack them, “Okay, then. See you guys in the morning.”
Turning quickly on my heels, I drag him up the stairs to the guest bedroom and quietly shut the door. Letting out a huge sigh of relief.
“That was totally painless.” He announces, dragging me into his arms. His lips fall to mine. So delicate and possessive all at the same time. I start to run my hands under his shirt and up his back, causing him to let out a deep groan.
“Wait,” He rasps. “You know you could’ve told me.”
“Told you what,” I breathe, attempting to continue the trail up his bare back.
“About your eating disorder. You could’ve told me.”
I pause, staring at him in shock. I’m not sure if I’m ready to show him all the ugly parts of me. “I–I didn’t tell anyone.”