The Darker Exterior

Chapter 14

When I woke up, Atticus was scrolling through his phone. My head was on his chest and his arm was around me.

"Good morning," he teased, rubbing my back.

"Fast food?" I mumble tiredly.

"I already have Mcdonald's on the way. I doordashed us a bunch of things because I wasn't sure what you wanted. It'll be here soon.

"I wasn't asleep for long, was I?" I ask, rubbing my eyes. 

"Just a little over an hour. A power nap. Now let's take a look at you," he said, pulling my neckline down a bit, surveying the damage.

"Not too bad. Do you hurt anywhere?" he asks.

"No, I'm okay, I just want food," I mumble, flopping my hands down in my lap. I could feel the hair on my neck, tangled in what must look like a rat's nest. 

I must look disgusting. 

I rubbed my face gently and flopped back down onto the bed.

"You alright?" Atticus asks, looking down at me.

"I just feel gross right now," I mumbled, letting out a sigh.

"Understandable. Is there anything I can do to help you?" he asks, brushing a loose tendril of my hair off my forehead.

"Food," I drone, flopping my arms dramatically at my sides.

Atticus laughs and stands up, "Alright then, get up bubbles, let's get some nuggets."

"Ranch?" I ask, peeking up at him.

"well of course, I'm no simpleton," he replied, extending a hand to me. I took it and groaned as I pulled myself up, following him out of the room, back down the twisted hallways until we reached his front door where the broken glass once laid. I guess he had housekeepers.

Fuck, he had housekeepers?

I hope they owned earplugs.

Atticus opened the door and grabbed the two bags of food that sat there.

"I got nuggets, a few burgers, and, of course, fries," he handed me one bag and placed the other on his kitchen island, sitting down on a bar stool across from where I was headed.

"I probably shouldn't be eating like this. I have to go to that dinner event soon and if I keep up these unhealthy habits, I'll look like a whale," I complain. Atticus' brow furrows and he sighs, biting down on his tongue.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing, that talk just really makes me upset. You're beautiful to me, and I hate when you talk down on yourself."

I fidgeted with the bag of food in my hand, "I'm sorry, I didn't really mean it that way, I just get nervous eating fast food because of how bloated it makes me feel," I explain, pulling out a pack of fries.

"I can understand that. Can we try to cut down on the negative talk, though?" he asks, grabbing some food of his own.

"I can try," I say, offering him a small smile.

"Good girl," he purred, turning his attention back to the food.

"Would you still want to be with me if I gained weight?" I ask, popping a few fries in my mouth.

Atticus sighed again, but this time smiled as he looked at me, "Are we starting with these questions already?"

"It's a valid question," I ask defensively.

"Yes, I'd still want you to be my girlfriend if you gained weight. Weight isn't a big deal, it's how you carry yourself," he replied, "confidence is key. People look a hundred times prettier when they act confidently. Plus," he tilted his head to the side, "Men don't care about things like a little bit of weight, Aurelia. Boys do, men don't. Simple."