Nothing To Prove

15 I Know You Need More

Samantha

Ashton texted me later at night while he was at work.

'Can't wait to cuddle you tonight.'

My heart squeezed for a fraction of a second. Can't wait to cuddle you tonight. He wanted to cuddle me? I could punch a wall. No, a pillow. I shoved my face into a pillow. Ugh.

I lit up a blueberry flavored joint and sat on the edge of my bed. The smoke swirled around the neon pink and purple lights like a gray cloudy snake. Low, rhythmic music danced with it. I checked one notification after another. New likes and comments. Responded to them.

So much to do. The photoshoot Kevin offered in Malibu was a high-end hotel. It cost over a thousand dollars a night with an oceanfront view and a turquoise pool. The only downside? I was going to be on my period this weekend. Bloated, uncomfortable, in pain.

Soon, my brain stretched into a mellow slow-motion, yet my mind continued to race. It was like a nightmare of running from a villain with your legs underwater. Why did I do this to myself? Smoking to relax was always an illusion. It didn't actually help.

But I guess it was easier to focus on anxiety induced from weed instead of my actual problems. Like the fact that I humiliated Ashton and myself at his parents last weekend. The image of wailing on my knees with all the guests standing over me made me wince. The look on Ashton's face, the silent pity, the horror. I couldn't shake it.

The worst part was that it was only half of it. The thoughts haunting my head were far worse than a meltdown. The way my brain flipped like a light switch when that closet door closed. Stacy's voice on the other side. That condescending, humored, calm tone. The stench of rotten meat that wasn't actually there. The illusion that I was little again, back at home.

I shook my head for the millionth time, and texted back Ashton. "Ha ha. You pervert."

"How am I a pervert? I just said I want to cuddle you."

"Code for acts of perversion, you pervert."

"Wow. Okay." He texted again. "Are you going to wait up for me?"

"No promises."

"It's okay. I'll wake you up."

I scoffed. Point proven. Not that it bothered me, not really.

Out of all the pajama options I had, I opted for cute with a hint of sexy, at least in my opinion. It was a fleece crop top with thin straps and boy shorts. Soft white. Kind of like a bunny, as Ashton liked to call me. Whatever! Plus it was thick enough to skip a bra without being too obvious.

I changed my bedsheets and aired out the room, left a few string lights on, and slid under the cool white cotton. For two hours, I consumed crap on TikTok like a crack addict. If you asked me what I watched, I wouldn't even know.

Ashton came home around 4. The adrenaline of him slowly opening my door killed any lingering traces of sleepiness out of my system. He was freshly showered, hair darker and damp.

"Oh, you're awake." He chuckled, a little embarrassed.

I stayed casual, hands under my cheek as I laid on my side under the sheets. "Duh."

"Miss me?"

I shook my head with a contradicting smile. He closed the door behind him and looked at me across the room, his eyes raking over me with a sigh.

"Did you change your mind?" I sat up on my elbows, tilting my head at his unusual nervousness. Then it hit me and I gasped. "Do you fart in your sleep?"