Page 766 of Filthy Elites

“What’s wrong with wondering about hot guys? Geez. Maybe I meant for you to hook ‘em up with me.” She winks, and I crack up.

“I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

“You don’t want to date anyone?”

“I don’t date.”

“You don’t? Why not?”

“Maybe because I tend to like guys who aren’t available.”

She blinks a few times. “That sounds like therapy talk.”

“Never been to one,” I say. “Just like to self-psychoanalyze myself for whatever it’s worth.”

“That’s not fun,” she says. “But I can’t really blame you because I do that too.”

“I think there are no worse critics than ourselves. We’re too hard on ourselves, so how about this? I’ll be your Jiminy Cricket.”

“No way. You’re way too nice. You won’t give it to me straight.”

“Trust me. I can give it to you straight. I just won’t be an ass like you are to yourself.” I shrug one shoulder. “I can say that because I’m an ass to myself too. It’s just how we’re wired.”

Dawn eyes me skeptically.

“Let’s just try it for the weekend,” I suggest.

“Hmm.” She sounds unconvinced.

I’m not sure why I’m pushing for this, but I hate that she so firmly seems to accept that she’s not good enough and never will be. She has worth regardless of the scale.

I’m sure I can help her, but can she help me when I’m unwilling and unable to talk to her about my father and what he did?

Fuck.

Maybe I’m never going to get my head on straight, which just seems to make me wonder if I’m a lost cause.

Maybe I am, but I’m going to be a stronger person regardless.

* * *

Dawn hasus walk around to find a restaurant, which doesn't bother me at all. Walking, I can handle. It's running I can't stand.

We both opt to get water, which isn't that big of a deal. I opt for a chicken Caesar wrap. Chicken and bacon? Yes, please. It's not entirely unhealthy because the wrap is spinach.

But Dawn orders a kale salad with dressing on the side.

The waitress jots down our orders and walks off.

“Just a salad?” I ask doubtfully.

“Why not?” she asks with a grin.

I'll be supportive, I tell myself, but when her salad arrives, and she takes that first bite and makes a face, I can't help feeling terrible. The first few days, she hadn't been this hung up about her weight, which makes me wonder if someone said something to her.

Maybe helping her won’t be that easy, but that doesn’t matter. I’ll do what I can for her.

And for me too.

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