Chapter 20
I wake up to the sound of my stomach growling. Before two days ago, it’d been so long since I felt the true sensation of being hungry. I’ve always eaten breakfast, lunch, and dinner with plenty of snacks in between. Food has been my best friend for years, and when I truly think about it, I can’t remember the last time my stomach actuallygrowled. Now, the pang and cramping of an empty stomach has been my annoying companion for two days.
It sucks. I feel as though I’m focused on food twenty-four hours a day now that I’m trying to lose weight. It’s all I think of—even more than I think of Josh, which is a lot, if I’m being honest.
I grab my phone and turn off the alarm, which is set for fifteen minutes from now. I don’t wake up to its annoying wail anymore; I wake up to the hunger. It’s clawing and nagging at my stomach, begging for a crème horn or an éclair. My mouth waters at the thought. I climb out of bed and head to the bathroom where my shiny new purchase sits in the middle of the floor. A scale.
I take a deep breath and step on it.
No difference from yesterday.
My shoulders fall and hot tears sting my eyes. How is this possible? I went down one pound on my first day of dieting, and now, nothing. I barely ate eight hundred calories yesterday.
Stepping off the scale, I get dressed in a purple flowy tank top and some black leggings. Depression seeps into my bones, even though I know it’s unfounded. I was the fool who thought I could actually lose weight in one week.
I remember those weight loss classes I took one year at the community college summer classes. They said one pound a week was an ideal goal. Fifteen pounds in a week? Who am I kidding?
I hold back tears as I finish getting ready for work. I’ll stick to my eight hundred calories and add in more exercise. I’ll go walking for my lunch break and keep doing weight lifting in the back room with heavy boxes of merchandise.
Maybe after a month of dieting, Josh will be truly interested in me. I sigh as I say goodbye to Grandma and head to the garage. There’s no way I will lose enough weight in time. He’ll lose interest before then. But that doesn’t mean I should stop trying because maybe by the time I’m thin, I’ll find someone else to date.
The thought alone keeps me motivated to continue dieting, even though I hate every second of it.
For the next three days, I take a powerwalk during the half hour of my lunch break, and it’s kind of a terrible idea because I get all sweaty. But I keep at it, knowing I’m burning more calories when I’m moving. It doesn’t matter what Grandma always says. She may be happy in her own skin, empowered by her fat or whatever she calls it, but I hate it. I hate knowing that guys don’t like me because of my weight. I hate feeling so ugly compared to other girls my age. As I walk along the strip, I glance at my reflection in the shiny windows from the stores near Aiden Jane. It could be worse, I guess. My side profile isn’t too bad; it’s the width of my ass, the love handles on my back that are the worst of me. The flab on my arms is gross. Mesmerized by my reflection in one store with silver film over the glass, I stop and lift out my arm, shaking it a little. The flab wiggles and my stomach twists in disgust.
Still, I try to think positively by telling myself it could be worse. I’m not like, morbidly obese. Just overweight. I can fix this. I can change my life around and find a real boyfriend, not just one in books. This will be okay.
I meet my own eyes in my reflection and try telling myself that, in my head of course. I’m not going to sayIt’ll be okayout loud like a weirdo.
The thought alone makes me smile.
“Hey, you.”
I look up, and there he is, the guy who’s been in my head all week, only now he’s here in person. He’s wearing jeans that hug his thighs perfectly, and a pale orange shirt with some surf logo on the upper right corner. His lips press into a thin smile. “What’s up?”
Suddenly every coherent thought in my brain turns to mush and floats out of my ears, leaving me mute and frozen to the boardwalk. Josh’s brows pull together. “You okay?”
“Um, yeah,” I say. I have to practically gasp for breath, and that’s when all my senses come flying back to me. My heart is pounding, but it was already beating pretty fast from my power walk. My legs feel like jelly, but they’ve felt that way since Wednesday, probably because I’m eating as little as possible and it’s screwing with my metabolism. “I just feel a little weak.”
“Have you eaten today?” he asks. I flinch, but he doesn’t look like he’s trying to be an asshole. He’s peering at me with this serious look in his eyes. “I always rush off to work before I get a chance to eat,” he says, puling two protein bars out of his pocket. “Today we were so damn busy I didn’t get to eat at all, so I ordered a pizza and ate it while helping customers.” He chuckles, then holds out the protein bars. “You want one? You look kinda pale.”
As if right on cue to betray me, my stomach rumbles so loud we both hear it. My cheeks redden and I reach for the stupid protein bar, because yeah, I’m pretty damn hungry. “Thanks,” I say, ripping open the package even though I’m humiliated to be eating in front of him. “We’ve been busy too.”
No, we haven’t, but he doesn’t need to know I’m purposely dieting. That would just call attention to my flaws, right? Or would it give him hope that I’m trying to become a better person and maybe he’d like me for it?
I spend so long wondering the answer, I forget what he just asked me.
“Sorry, what?” I ask, looking over at him as we walk back toward Aiden Jane.
He scratches behind his ear, then leaves his hand on his neck for a second. He reminds me of those male models in underwear ads who pose like that, one hand across their neck like they have a cramp or something. No matter how sexy it might look, it’s still kind of weird. I smile.
“I asked if you know what today is,” Josh says again, peering at me with a little twinkle in his eye. We’ve been emailing once a day, but just about random stuff, nothing too serious. I know exactly what day it is, and I’ve been fighting off anxiety about it all morning. It’s Friday. The party at the barn day, and I’m only two pounds less than I was last Friday. You can’t even tell.
“It’s Friday,” I say, not looking at him as I take a bite of the protein bar.
“Well . . .” Josh says, bumping into me with his shoulder as we walk. “Are you coming with me to the party tonight?”
“Withyou?” I say, taken aback. “I never agreed to that.”
