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“Kira?” Beckett’s tone shows his confusion.
Already feeling sick to my stomach, I turn my head to watch a skinny girl – sorry, woman – in a tight red dress approach us. Her dress is the shorter grownup version of mine. Her hair is bright blonde, curled in big ringlets around her face. She has a pretty black choker around her neck and sparkly heeled shoes. Complete with bare legs.
Beckett slides his chair back, like he’s going to get up, but before he can, she lowers herself onto his lap.
That sick feeling inside me grows. Twisting and turning. Coiling up from my stomach and sliding straight to my heart.
“I didn’t think you were coming until tomorrow.” Beckett says to the woman, perched on his thighs.
“I just couldn’t wait that long.” She replies, in a voice that sounds like something I’d hear in drama class.
Her eyes dart over to me before she grabs his face in her hands and lowers her mouth to his.
Hot tears fill my eyes as I shove away from the table.
No one tries to stop me.
No one says my name.
No one says anything.
Running in my bare, nylon covered feet, I flee the kitchen.
How could he? How dare he! Right in front of me!?
Humiliation and sadness slam against each other inside my chest.
I push through clusters of bodies until I reach the entryway.
Dropping to my knees, I dig around in the pile of footwear until I find my shoes. Not shoes. Not sparkly sexy heels. Big snow boots. Big ugly black snow boots because it’s winter outside and because my mom made me wear them. Because I’m still just a kid playing dress up. Because no one will ever see me as anything other than a kid.
Violently shoving my feet into the boots, I find my puffy bright purple jacket that clashes with my dress, and I yank it on over my carefully crafted Christmas outfit.
I’m not being careful or quiet or subtle, but no one notices. Everyone is having way too much fun with all their friends to notice the one child throwing a fit.
I jerk open the door andstep out into the cold night.
My breath clouds before me, blurring my view of the sky.
The air is still, the cold hanging all around me, chilling the tears as they slide down my cheeks.
Beckett didn’t care.
One deep inhale.
Beckett doesn’t love me.
I watch my exhale thicken the air.
Beckett loves someone else.
Another deep inhale.
Beckett won’t ever think of me like that.
I blink away more tears as I let my breath out.
I need to stop loving Beckett.
