AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No, no.” She’s already pulling the phone out of my dad’s hand. “No one wants to see my wrinkles next to you two.”
My breath chokes out of me, and I’m either going to scream at the top of my lungs right here in this restaurant or combust into a million particles of dust out of sheer frustration and anger. Nothing I’ve said has even made a dent.
We take the photo, and even with Rory’s warm, solid hand on the sensitive part of my shoulder, my smile is wooden and forced. There’s an uncomfortable lump in my throat as we leave. Outside, everyone hugs each other goodbye and we wish my parents a safe trip home before we all split up.
The entire conversation with my mom replays as I stand on the sidewalk. An angry throb pounds behind my forehead, and my eyes sting.
No, no, no. Shit. I’m about to cry.
“I’m not feeling good, so I’ll see you tomorrow.” My voice is high and strained.
If I look at Rory, he’ll see I’m about to cry, and he can’t. I don’t cry in front of guys. I don’t let guys come to dinner with my parents, I don’t let them sleep over, and I sure as shit don’t let them see me break.
I don’t do any of these things with guys.
“Good night,” I say without looking at him and walk away fast.
A hot tear falls and I swipe it away.
“Hazel.”
I can’t get enough air, and stupid, stupid tears spill over as I think about my mom and how frustrated I am with her. With myself. I’ve failed her, and she hates herself. She hates her body. She thinks she isn’t good enough.
And I look just like her, so what does that mean about me? That I’m beautiful now, but when I’m her age, I won’t be?
“Hazel.”
He steps in front of me, hands on my arms, peering down at me.
My name rings in the air, strung between us like a taut wire, and I wonder if calling me by my last name was not just his way of being playful, but of keeping a wall between us, because right now, with my eyes all red and puffy and my nose running, I’m totally exposed.
“Look at me.”
I clench my eyes closed. “No.”
“Yes.” The word is so soft, and his fingers tilt my chin up.
I open my eyes, and he’s never looked at me the way he’s looking at me right now, so openly concerned and careful, like I might shatter. Like he’s desperate to make my hurt feel better.
Like he cares.
Maybe that’s why I call him by his last name, too. I don’t want to care about him.
I swallow. “I’m fine.”
“Tell me.” His words are gentle, but they’re a sledgehammer against my resolve. I’m scrambling to hold the wall up against him, and he’s bulldozing it with this sincerity, thissweetness.
His deep blue eyes search mine, and then his hand is on my cheek, resting soft as a butterfly.
“What’s wrong?” he murmurs, and I’m fucking toast.
“It’s my mom.” My voice is rough with emotion. “She, um. She says these things about herself that I don’t like. She doesn’t have very good confidence.”
He takes a deep breath. “That must be hard to watch.”
My eyes blur but I blink the tears away.
“I hate that our society has made her feel so horrible about herself. I hate that she can’t just exist in the body and face she has without feeling like she needs to change everything.” I swallow past the gravel in my throat. “And what does it mean about me if I can’t help her?”
