Solace (completed)

Chaptrr Thirty-Two

Alex Solace

"Baby, I've told you, you look fine."

   "'Fine' isn't fine. 'Fine' is 'you look bad but if you look from a distance you're okay.' Not 'oh wow, you look good up close.' So no. Fine is not fine!" I wail.

   I'm trying to pick an outfit for the party. The same party that's two fucking days away.

This is bullshit. Utter bullshit.

It's not that I don't have clothes. I actually think a few of the pieces I picked are really cute. I have some oversized jeans with a big gape in the knee that I wanted to pair with a brown crop top- since the jeans are high waisted- and a sweater.

But then I tried it on and felt disgusted.

Maybe it's because I don't have any makeup on, or the fact that my hairs put together in the most atrocious bun on the century, or the fact that If I look close enough I can see my face peeling at my cheeks and the yellow around my eyes is really starting to pop lately.

I feel gross.

I almost- no. I did want to cry. I hate trying on clothes. I hate being bold with my style because I always end up being too big for said style, or I just don't like how my face does with the outfit.

I felt a pain in the back of my throat as I looked at myself in the mirror.

I couldn't cry now. Not with Elias on my bed to the left side of me. It's not that he hasn't seen me cry. Obviously he has. But I wasn't in my right mind those times. I was freaked out and on the verge of a panic attack. This is a cry I can control and I'm choosing to hold that bitch in.

I frustratedly tore off my sweater and threw it into the depths of my closet. Angrily peeling off my crop top as well. If I couldn't cry, I could be pissed.

   I stood in my closet with my hands balled up into angry fists at my sides. Deep breaths. Traitorous tears welled up in my eyes but I looked up at the ceiling and blew out a big huff of air. Do not cry.

I didn't even care that I was just in my bra as rough, calloused hands gently grabbed both of my shoulders, making me drop my head and suck in my belly subconsciously. It's nothing he hasn't seen before, my boobs or my belly, it's just... I don't know. Insecurities fluctuate, I guess.

Speaking of him seeing my boobs.

Holy fucking shit.

I don't know what that was the other day. I don't know how it started, I don't know why it happened, I don't know who he was when it happened, but I do know one thing.

I was okay after.

When we first started, I was kinda scared, kinda nervous. I was straddling him and I didn't know how he would feel about my weight being on him. But then I remembered how he practically forced me into his lap so I pushed that thought to the back of my mind.

Then I started to worry about the after effects. How would I feel after? Should I even be doing this? But before I could get lost in my thoughts, he kissed me. And I instantly melted.

And then after. Before I could freak out or get consumed by my thoughts, he instantly started rubbing my back, our bare chests flushed with each other, and he started cooing endless amounts of praises in my ear.

And I felt okay. He even *hehe* he even got me a Gatorade after. Just like he did last time.

And then he cuddled me until we both fell asleep.