Stay calm, Charlotte. I’mnotgonna lose it.
I look in the mirror. The lipstick is smeared, staining the skin around my mouth like a circus clown.
Kill me now.
“Hurry the fuck up!”
That tone... he isn’t joking anymore. He jiggles the locked doorknob impatiently.
I’m trapped. There’s no escape.
So I trudge to the door, bracing myself.
Brax steps back several paces, dramatic. He stands in the center of the living room, lit by the TV’s glow like he’s the star of the show, which, in his mind, he is.
With sharp cheekbones, a jaw that could cut granite, and that annoyingly perfect mop of blond curls styled in messy, intentional waves, he draws girl’s attention easily.
His cruel brown eyes stare, amused, smug, and soulless. And for a half second, I almost think he’s impressed.
Then he opens his mouth.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you look like a hooker that just gave a BJ.”
“Errr! Shut up!” I yell, the words slipping out in a shrill burst of panic.
Immediately, I know I messed up.
Brax grins, wicked.
“Wee! Wee!” he says, high pitched and mocking. “She’s squealing!”
“I am not!” I shout, voice cracking.
Bad move.
“Oink oink! Wee wee!” Killian calls from the couch.
“She’s having a Piggy Meltdown!” Brax adds.
I cover my mouth, mortified, heat crawling up my neck as the noise grows louder.
I rush past them to my tiny bedroom. My cave where I can fall apart in private.
Just before I slam the door, I hear Killian shout, “What’d you do to your face, Piggy?”
The laughter gets quieter, muffled through the thin walls, but still slicing deep.
I sit on the edge of the bed, my eyes fixed on my fat thighs stretching my sweatpants. Thank God my baggy shirts hide most of my body.
I sniffle.
Why couldn’t I be born with straight hair, pretty skin, and bigger eyes? And a nice body! Taller, skinnier. One I can show off that makes men stare as I walk by.
Just then—
My door flies open. Stupid Brax holds the knob, lazily leaning inside like he owns the place. His light curls fall forward, and those evil eyes leer.
Another guy moves beside him...
