Page 4 of #Beautiful

“Did real good right then, too, Declan. Just keep up crap like that, and y’all will be okay.”

Sighing, I turn to him and set my hand on his shoulder. “I hope so. Now, how about that food?”

Chapter 3 - Lena

“Okay, okay, someone please tell me I’m not the only idiot taking a nine AM math course?” Darcy looks like she wants to cry over this, which makes the rest of us at the table chuckle.

“You know, Darcy,” Declan says as he picks up his fork and sits toward the table, “you are the one that literally picked your classes. The rest of us don’t pick math first thing in the morning.”

“Ah,” I say loudly, “not true. Justus is trying to hide it, but his first class is Statistics this year, and that is a math course.”

Everyone around the table groans, shouting their pretend outrage. This morning hasn’t been bad. Honestly, it’s probably been the best in a while. Declan slept in my room last night. We both crashed watching our show. It was early, too, so we woke up around six to find Justus, Sandra, and two other upper-class house members cooking breakfast. It’s their tradition on the first day of each semester. I really hope someone carries that on when they graduate after this year.

My nerves are still shot this morning, and it’s bugging me that I can’t figure out why. I haven’t eaten much, and Declan’s noticed. He’s already asked me twice this morning if I’m okay, feeling sick, or anything. But, of course, I don’t want to say yes, especially when I don’t understand what’s up with me. How can someone be happy and content while they feel anxious and neurotic?

“What’s your morning class, Lena?” Michelle, another sorority sister, says from the other end of the table.

“Oceanography Lecture followed by the Lab,” I say with a grin.

“Ohhhh,” Jackson says, tossing a piece of bacon at me, “look at you, little-miss-fancy. She fails to mention she only scored that class this early because she made the Introduction to Oceanography final her biotch last semester, so they’re letting her skip the Intro II course, which I have to take first thing this morning.”

Everyone, including me, chuckles.

“Jackson,” Declan says as he reaches over and puts his arm around the back of my chair, “we knew Lena was smarter than you when we met her. So don’t sound like it’s shocking that she’s skipping college courses.”

Jackson tilts his head playfully and shrugs. “True, true.”

Everyone is chatting, and Declan is gently running his fingers back and forth across the top of my back, occasionally letting them drift up to my neck, sending slight chills down my spine. He’s been so great since yesterday it makes me wish we had the talk about him being overwhelming months ago. I don’t know what happens, but as everyone is chatting, my stomach does a flip and gurgle. I take deep breaths and try not to make a thing out of it, but it happens again.

Spit collects in my mouth as my stomach gurgles again. Crap, I’m gonna be sick. “Excuse me a second,” I say quietly and bolt out of my seat, heading upstairs as fast as possible without making it look like something is wrong.

Shoving my bedroom door open, I make a beeline for my bathroom, throwing open the toilet seat lid. Unfortunately, my knees hit the cold floor while my entire breakfast comes up.

Then the weirdest thing happens...

All the anxiety and stuff I was feeling downstairs seems to just disappear. I heave a few more times, trying to rationalize that the purging isn’t why the anxiety went away. Still, as I stand and turn to the sink, I can’t help but wonder if that’s exactly the truth. This summer, the whole binging, purging food thing did bring me a sense of control. It hasn’t hurt me thus far, so maybe it’s just my coping when I get upset and stuff now.

I don't really see any harm as long as I’m still eating— though I will be eating smaller portions and healthier, especially during the soccer season.

Turning on the water, I brush my teeth, taking away the disgusting aftertaste of stomach acid from my mouth. As I shut the water off, there’s a loud bang on my bedroom door. Grabbing a hand towel, I walk quickly and throw it open to Candice, standing with a worried look on her face.

“Yeah?”

She stares at me. “You okay? Declan said you jumped up from the table pretty quick.”

I wave off the concern as I wipe my face. “Yeah. Just needed to brush my teeth. That syrup was making my back ones hurt.”

Candice grimaces. “Oh, that one that you broke on that candy this summer? You need to get that fixed.”

I play it off like that’s exactly what’s happening. Candice is right that I need to get that tooth fixed, though. Yes, I know lying to my best friend isn’t right. But I don’t think she’ll understand the whole food-control making me feel better. The last thing I want to do is make her or anyone else worry when there isn’t anything to really worry about. This is a temporary solution until I can get my head in the right place again.

I don’t want to sit down and convince her and everyone else of that. I love my friends, but we all tend to get on each other about choices we don’t agree with as a group. Sometimes, it’s great and helps us all deal with stuff. Other times, it’s super annoying, and this year is not the year I want to try and figure out my own stuff, plus which side of that debate my friends will fall on.

“Okay, well,” Candice shuffles from foot to foot, “text me when you’re on break for lunch, and I’ll see if I can come meet up.” She turns and heads back to the stairs but stops at the top to turn and face me again. “And get that tooth looked at. There’s literally a dental hygiene clinic on campus.”

“Yes, Mom,” I say with mock irritation and a smile. Candice narrows her eyes and playfully sticks her tongue out.

She’s going to go back to the table and tell Declan that I’m fine and my tooth is bothering me. He was there when I messed it up over the summer, so he’ll believe it. Plus, Candice is right, there is a dental clinic on campus, so I can just make an appointment at some point in the next few weeks and go get it fixed. Honestly, I’m not a fan of the dentist, but I’m less a fan of my teeth being permanently messed up.

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