Page 11 of Up In Flames
I’ve had a hard time looking Dylan in the eye ever since I was forced to do a body shot off him a couple months ago. Something else I’ve buried deep in the recesses of my mind. I’m ashamed to admit I’ve thought about it more than once since it happened.
Avoiding eye contact, I wave to the group as a whole as I answer Dylan. “I would but the next couple of days are demolition days, so I really do need to get to bed.”
Where I’ll toss and turn while trying like hell to avoid thinking about things I have no business thinking about until I exhaust myself and fall into a fitful sleep.
Chapter 6
Taylor
The soft sound of birds chirping through the speaker of my alarm clock wakes me up at seven thirty. I probably should’ve given myself more time, considering the contractor is going to be here in fifteen minutes, but I stayed up way too late scrolling through hook-up apps.
Ever since the night at the bar a couple weeks ago, I’ve felt a little more like myself. Being playful enough to lean into flirting with that stranger gave me a glimmer of hope that Patrick didn’t completely ruin me.
But no dice. Not one single profile picture sent that electric current shooting down my spine the way my encounter with that stranger did.
Rolling over, I plant my feet on the floor, ready to get this week of house arrest over with.
As I get dressed, it feels good to be pulling on the familiar spandex shorts. It’s amazing how depression crept its way into every corner of my being, to where I didn’t even want to dress like myself. I’ve wanted to avoid everything that would remind me of PatrickorDamon…and unfortunately,Iremind me of them both.
Imagine being at odds with your own reflection.
Patrick said he liked how I wasn’t afraid to be myself. He said he wasproudof me and wanted to show me off.
But apparently, he didn’t like it as much as he’d made me believe…and he only wanted to show me off to certain people at certain times.
Damon promised to always have my back…but that also had limits I knew nothing about.
Pissed that loving me seems to always come with stipulations, I decided to hide myself. But that one interaction in the karaoke bar rekindled the fire inside my chest. It reminded me I am who I am, and fuck what everyone else thinks. I haven’t been closeted, ornormalby society’s standards, a single day in my life.
I’ll be damned if I start now.
I’m strong-willed. I’m confident. I’m fuckingfabulous.And Irefuseto dim my light to make others happy.
The tight, red shorts hug my ass, and my cheeks practically stick out the bottom, but through everything, my gym routine kept me from going off the deep end, so I havezeroshame in showing off the hard-earned goods.
I throw on the tank top Francesca gave me for my birthday, smiling because it complements the shorts perfectly. Black with a giant rainbow flame, the wordsDon’t you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?written across it.
I brush my teeth, and the doorbell rings right as I spit into the sink. I give myself one last loving glance, thankful I finally seem to be getting my mind right, and run down the stairs.
“Coming!” I sing on my way to the door. Twisting the knob, I fling the door open, not prepared for what awaits me on the other side. “Oh, fuck me.” My eyes rake over his frame before coming to land on the stormy eyes of the man from the bar. I’d recognize those eyes anywhere.
But they aren’t just anywhere.
They’re on my parents’ front porch.
I can tell theinstantrecognition hits him because I swear his eyes soften at the corners and his shoulders relax. He exhales and closes his eyes as though being back in my vicinity has allowed him to release the breath he’s been holding since that night.
Either that, or he’s trying to stave off an aneurysm.
When his eyes open again, he looks angry, and for a second, I’m afraid maybe I misread the situation two weeks ago, and Livvy was right. Maybe Ididtake things too far. Becauseyeeeaahhhh, he doesn’t look happy to see me.
As much as I want to take in the rest of his outfit because I’m pretty confident that’s a toolbelt at the bottom of my vision field, I don’t break eye contact.
“You have got to be shitting me,” he mumbles in a low tone so the two men behind him can’t hear.
I almost apologize.
I almost give a shy smile and explanation before retreating inside.
