However, whatever held us together was gone as quickly as it’d come, and again, we were nothing more than enemies.
He let go of me abruptly and stepped away. “You broke my screen today, and I won’t leave you alone after that stunt. So you better think twice before you open your mouth again.” With that, he spun around and walked away.
It was eleven in the morning when I dragged myself out of bed. I felt like I’d been sleeping for ages. I didn’t need to look at myself in the mirror to know my hair resembled a nest and my mascara and eyeliner were smeared all around my eyes. My foul breath was the real winner though.
I brushed my teeth, washed my unusually puffy face, and tied my long hair up in a messy ponytail, ready to haul my way to the kitchen in my PJs. My stomach was howling with hunger.
I hummed the tune I’d just come up with as I descended the stairs. It was a ballad that played in my head on the piano, but I wanted to memorize it and try it out on my guitar later.
“Good morning, sweetheart. You look like you came straight out of the washing machine,” my mom, Julie, told me when I entered the kitchen. She was making lunch.
She wore a sports shirt and sweatpants that showcased her slim hourglass figure, which was a complete contrast to the clothes she wore at work. She worked as a PR manager, and I saw her in formal suits more often than not.
I yawned and picked up my plate of ham and eggs before I slumped down on the kitchen stool. I was dying to wolf down my late breakfast. “Good morning to you too, Mom.”
Her amber brown eyes twinkled with amusement. “Did you sleep well?”
Yes, if you didn’t count two hours of tossing around in my bed and trying to get some sleep after that encounter with Blake at the party. But she didn’t have to know that.
“Like a baby.”
“When did you come home last night?”
I groaned. “Mom, don’t do that.”
“I just want to know. Is that so bad?”
It wasn’t bad, but it was irritating. My mom was the sweetest mom in the world—minus her tendency to be curious about my every move.
“You know I didn’t break curfew.”
“I don’t know that. I was sleeping.”
I sighed. “I didn’t. Cross my heart and hope to die.”
She tossed me a smile over her shoulder. “That’s good. Was there someone who caught your attention?” She wiggled her eyebrows.
I dropped my gaze to my eggs. “Nope.”
“And Kevin?”
“You know I’m not into him,” I mumbled as I chewed with my eyes set on my plate.
“But that boy is so sweet!”
I took a big bite as I thought about the last time Kev was at my house. It was totally embarrassing. We watched American Idol in the living room—or more like tried to. My mom kept coming in and giving him the third degree, and I almost expected her to request he show her his family tree before he professed his undying love for me.
Poor Kev couldn’t even imagine why she was so interested in him. He was the only boy I’d brought to my house since my ex- and only boyfriend, Rory, so it was no wonder she thought there was more to Kevin’s and my friendship than there actually was.
“But I don’t like him.”
“Oh well. When are you going to invite him to our house again?”
“Mom, stop it. I won’t fall for him, if that’s what you’re thinking.” I chuckled. “We’re just friends!”
My dad, Owen, walked in the kitchen. “Who’s friends with whom?” he asked.
I glanced at him with my mouth full of eggs and bacon and got another reminder that I’d gotten the short end of the genetic stick. Just like Mom, he looked too handsome for someone in their forties with his defined chest, broad shoulders, and solid muscles, proving that weekend jogs really pay off. I had his deep blue wide-set eyes, freckles on the nose, and lighter complexion, but I’d gotten my mom’s sand-colored hair, perky nose, and luscious lips.
I had a pretty face if I excluded my double chin and chubby cheeks, but the rest of my body… My mom, my therapist, Mel, and Sar always told me I looked gorgeous and had great curves, but it was hard to believe them. The mirror didn’t lie, and the mirror showed a fat stomach, cellulite, and huge flabby thighs. It was hard to love those parts of myself.
“I’m friends with Kevin.”
He took a water bottle from the fridge. “He’s a good kid. You should invite him here more often.”
I groaned. “Dad, not you too.”
He raised his hands in the air. “What? I’m just saying. He can have a positive influence on you. You know school is important.”
Count on my parents to underscore hanging out with good kids and getting good grades. My family and relatives had tried to drill into my head their high expectations of me my whole life, and they never even asked me what I wanted to do with my life.
My dad was a lawyer, and he represented important public figures. He owned a law firm that had merged with another hotshot firm from Enfield, which was why we had moved from my hometown, Bridgeport, to Enfield. It was only natural for my dad to think I was going to follow in his footsteps.
This was why I hadn’t yet told them I’d applied to a few music colleges. I was still gathering the courage to tell them about it, and my stomach knotted each time I thought about that moment. It was going to be disastrous.
“Speaking of school,” I started quietly, “there’s something I need to tell you.”
Dad stopped halfway through the
