Begin Again || Nate Maloley

|| Chapter 8

A/N: Bulimia trigger warning lies ahead, but briefly.

..................

It was an intense moment with my finger hovering above my phone. Quite frankly, I didn't want to call either of them. What a shit show it would be having Gilinsky and one of the guys under the same roof. Both of them would be sending subtle hints toward me about what we have done and what we could do. It's a damned if I do, damned if I don't type of situation.

Invite Sammy...piss off Jack.
Invite Nate...piss off Andrea...and Jack.
But ultimately I shouldn't give a damn what Jack thinks because he's too busy speaking in tongues with Andrea for whatever ungodly reason and making excuses. Whatever, he's not my boyfriend. Never was.

I turned off my phone and tossed it to the foot of the bed, opting to begin studying instead. Hours would pass before I realized it was 2:14 AM. I was so immersed in the world of English Literature Appreciation that I forgot to actually enjoy my Saturday night. Not like I do much of that anyway. On the flipside, I felt like shit. Eating all that junk food gave me a major headache and a bad taste in my mouth. I got up and walked past my floor-length mirror, pausing, then slowly making my way back to it. I never liked looking into it for too long. I hated my body still. Nate was right. Didn't matter how much weight I lost or would continue to lose. I lifted my shirt and stared at my mostly-flat stomach seemingly permanently painted with stretch marks. Memories of the excess flesh would plague my mind and I was starting to envision it again, frightening myself. I didn't want to go back to that. I felt myself slowly spiraling down, ready to do something I promised I'd never do.

I walked into the bathroom and got on my knees in front of the open toilet, sticking my toothbrush down my throat until I threw up all that I just ate. Deep down, I promised myself I'd never binge & barf again. Now all I had to do was keep that promise. I sat against the tub and cried, knowing I needed better control over my fucking life.

+

I was sitting on the park bench, sipping on my iced chai tea latte & studying my notes.

"Hey," I hear Sammy say as he comes and sits down next to me. I closed my notebook as he leaned in for a hug. "So what did you wanna talk about?"

"Uh," I took a deep breath. "Did you- was there ever any ounce of you that thought about actually being in a relationship with me? After our weekend, perhaps?"

His eyebrows rose as he thought about it, running his fingers through the hair that stood up at a diagonal on his head. "I don't know. No, I guess."

"Care to tell me why? Is there something wrong with me?"

"Wrong with you? Hell no, are you crazy? You're beautiful. Not to mention..." he moved in closer and got up to my ear. "When I gave it to you, you took it the best."

I rolled my eyes and gently pushed him back to where he originally sat. "Is there anything you like about me that has nothing to do with my body?"

"Well yeah. You make me laugh and you're easy to talk to. And I know you said nothing with your body but I really love your smile." He knocked my knee with his.

"Just...not enough to date me." I traced the pattern on my paisley notebook, still searching every part of myself that could be labeled unlikeable. In my world, that's everything.

"It's not you at all," he said. "I'm not ready for a girlfriend. I still have a life to live."

"What does that mean when people say that? To me, all that translates to is 'I still have places I need my dick to be in'...otherwise, life doesn't stop when you find someone. The right one, at least." I crossed my legs and folded my arms.