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"Don't start with me, Hanna."
"Karly, It's pizza. One slice isn't going to kill you."
She pushes a shoebox full of everything Ashton into the trashcan, "It might."
"You don't die from eating a slice of pizza."
She shrugs, "Yeah, well, people die exercising, and it will take a rigorous workout to burn those calories."
I've always been a little thicker, but Karly has always been tiny. She swears she's fine and that she doesn't need help, but I've seen her skip more meals than I can count over the years, and that can't be healthy.
"You are what? A buck-oh-five? Shut up and eat."
She doesn't say anything, choosing to ignore me instead, "So where's Ellie?"
"She's at a friend's house tonight for a sleepover."
"And Eric?"
"He's fishing with Judson early in the morning, so he's at his house."
She shrugs, walking over to the fridge pulling out a pitcher of lemonade.
"What did you do today?" I ask, hoping she hasn't spent the entire day here in full brown mental breakdown mode.
"I've just been here. You know, reevaluating my life."
I glance at her, "You needed a full face of makeup and lashes to sit at home?"
She puts the glass up to her lips, "You never know who might stop by."
Fury rises in my veins. Ashton took the girl that I once knew, full of confidence and spark, and turned her into someone who can't leave the house without a full face of makeup. He shredded every ounce of extra weight off of her and all of her self-esteem in the process. I remember her crying after the paparazzi would take pictures of her, spinning ridiculous headlines. She is still recognized in public for being Ashton Slade's side piece. It infuriates me. She acts like it doesn't bother her, which I know is bullshit.
A few hours pass, and we get all the clothes weeded through and hung back up or thrown out. Finally, clearing the floor. I check my phone for messages from Jameson. A little disappointed that there aren't any. He never misses his calls with Ellie, but his texting that was once persistent slowed way down after our moment at Disney.
A loud beating on the door jerks me from my thoughts of Jameson, reminding me that I shouldn't be thinking about him anyway.
"Who's that?" I ask, Karly standing to go open the door.
"I don't know, not really expecting anybody."
She looks through the peephole, slamming her forehead against the door dramatically, "Fuck."
I sit up defensively, "What? Who is it?"
She opens the door, Ashton pushing past her, dropping his guitar case on the floor.
"Why the fuck can't I call you? I told you I was in town, then you go and ignore me?"
Karly's entire demeanor shifts, like a puppy with her tail tucked between her legs, "Ashton—"
"Hanna." He greets, barely acknowledging my existence.
He swaggers into the kitchen, raiding the fridge like he belongs.
I look to Karly, mouthing, tell him to leave.
"Look, Ash, I'm done with this. I'm sick of being this piece of ass you can always have when you're sick of the road whores."
