Page 93 of Tamed By You

“Because if I told you, you'd look at me differently. I can cope with how other people look at me and what they think of me. Butnot you, anyone but you. I think that would truly break me.” She opens the door.

“Ali, wait…”

“Just go back to hating me, please… it was easier then.” Her words have me frozen. Hate her? How could I ever hate the woman I had fallen headfirst for?

Chapter Forty-Two

Ali

The past week has felt like a blur. I’m spiraling, I know I am. Everything I once cared about feels pointless. Cassidy checked herself into a rehab, which I’m thankful for, I hadn’t realized just how bad her drug habit was. I’m avoiding Gabby like the plague and thankful her new teaching schedule at the Pilates studio and boyfriend have kept her out the apartment. I am running out of reasons not to see Ria and I know she suspects something is up, and then there’s Harry. He calls and texts so much I am considering changing my number because with everyone I feel my resolve slipping. The idea of telling him, opening up to him, seems doable and then I come to my senses and realize how selfish of me it is to expect him to deal with my demons. How naïve would I be to trust someone with my darkest secrets? With Ria and Gabby, it’s different. When you arrived atTeenhoodyou knew why everyone was there, because they were there for the same reasons you were. Sure, our stories were different, but ultimately, we were all there because we had something taken from us. We bonded and became unbreakable because we knew what it felt like to be broken at the hands of someone else.

“… and so, I am proud to present our campaign poster for the fall Cover of Violet Magazine.”

I lift my head to look at the large white projector screen, waiting for the image to show. I’ve barely paid attention during this meeting. I just want to get home, hide under my comforter, and block out the world.

The people in the room gasp and clap, and I feel all eyes on me.

“Ali, you look unreal,” Brooke squeals, holding my arm and shaking me with excitement. But I freeze, unmoving. I look at the screen and my breath gets caught in my throat. Familiar eyes and a smile I’ve spent years perfecting, so no one knows just how sad I am, look back at me.

The photoshoot, the day where I had one of the worst panic attacks I’d had in years. The tagline is ’let celebrate you’ and then flashes to different images of me, different poses, different clothes, different smiles, each one more fake than the last. But no one would know. In those images, I look like a happy go lucky girl with everything she could want. No one in this room knows what lies behind those vacant eyes and broken smile.

“Thank you to Alice for stepping in so last minute, but we couldn’t be happier to have you representing the brand.” I give a weak smile, hoping my vague reaction will be accepted as overwhelm.

Diana dismisses us and as I leave the meeting room, head down as people continue to congratulate me. I need to get out of here. Now. I hurry to the bathroom, feeling unsteady on my stiletto heels, and fall into the stall, locking the door and bracing my hands on either side of the wall.

Come on, in and out, in and out.

I repeat the words over and over as I inhale a breath through my nose and exhale out my mouth. It's shaky and uneven. A dizzy feeling washes over me, and I turn to sit on the toilet. It feels too hard to breathe, my throat closing, an unbearable weight sitting on my chest. My stomach rolls and I leap up, throwing the lid back off the toilet and emptying the contents of my stomach. The burn in my throat worsens as the acid from my stomach makes its way out. I can’t remember the last time I kept food down. I know I’m losing weight, losing my hair again, losing myself again.

I need to get out of here. I wipe my mouth with toilet paper and unlock the door. Running the faucet and splashing my face with cold water, I avoid my reflection in the mirror. I know what will greet me. The girl from my past. The one with haunted eyes and hollow cheeks. I smooth my hands over my blouse and make my way out of the bathroom, practically running to my office to grab my purse so I can head home. I am past caring about work. I need to get out of here.

I stop in my tracks when my name echoes down the long hallway surrounded by glass offices. I turn back and head for Diana’s office and step inside.

“Yes,” I say as calmly as I can.

“I need you to fetch my lunch. I’m thinking a crab salad and an oat latte,” she says without even looking up from her laptop. Her thick, black-rimmed glasses perch on the end of her perfectly sculpted nose.

“I, erm, can’t. I’m sorry. I need to head home.”

She whips her head up, taking off her glasses and narrowing her eyes, likely annoyed at my response. “Alice, in case you had forgotten, you are my assistant and when I task you with something, You. Do. It.”

“I understand that, Diana, but I have a family emergency that I need to deal with,” I say, my words a little shaky.

“You can deal with your emergency on your time. You are on my time, and I need my lunch.” She pops her glasses back on and goes back to typing.

Is she serious? I feel it bubbling, and there’s no stopping it. My rage, everything I’ve bottled up, is about to take center stage.

“You know what, Diana? How about you get your own lunch? I might be your assistant, but I’m not your slave, and last time I checked, you have legs that work, so run your own errands. I am taking the rest of the day.”

I regret the words the minute they leave my mouth, but it’s done. It’s out there now and I brace myself for the backlash.

“Well… how about you take the rest of the week, Alice, and return when you’ve adjusted that attitude of yours? Had you been anyone else, I’d have you marched out of here quicker than you can say Violet, but as our cover girl, I need you around for the promo tour.”

Of course she does. She’s yet another person who needs me for something that involves my face or my body. Use me till I no longer serve a purpose and then toss me aside.

“No, how about you find another cover girl Diana? I’m done.”

I turn on my heel and practically run.

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