Unexpected

Chapter 15

Mallory

I'm an idiot! SUCH an idiot. Who delivers cookies to a guy while his girlfriend is there to answer the door barely dressed?! In my defense, how could I have known, right? But, oh my goodness, that was SO humiliating! Technically, he said she was not his girlfriend . . . but, come on, maybe he should make sure SHE knows that. They are obviously together in some kind of way. If she is comfortable enough to answer his door and call him 'Babe,' I think this wasn't a first date or hook-up.  Ugh, of course he has someone keeping his bed warm. He's hot. And she was hot. I'm talking about the Dallas Cowboy cheerleader kind of gorgeous. I envy anyone who can roll out of bed with last night's make-up smudged under their eyes, hair tousled, and still look smoking hot. I hate her for that alone. Maybe my cookies will make her fat.

I sigh and plop down on my couch. I need to stop. This is not who I am. I'm the smart, goody-two-shoes character in the story, not a vindictive jealous girl. And not the girl who gets the hot guy. I learned that the hard way with Josh. Pathetically, I started to scroll through the few pictures I had of him and me when we were together. I miss the feelings he gave me, that floating on air, the anticipation of our next encounter, and the butterflies in my stomach when we kissed. I'm quick to remind myself of the feelings he gave me when I overheard that phone conversation; humiliation, disgust, and utter heartbreak.

I toss my phone onto the coffee table. That's enough of that. To boost my mood, I count off my good qualities: I'm kind by nature, a people pleaser to a fault, smart, and witty. I shove away shy and awkward when those descriptions try to surface in my mental list. I justify that by the fact that once I get to know the person, I'm totally comfortable with who I am. My looks aren't too bad . . . average build, could stand to lose a few pounds, but it's not enough that I try to do anything about it, dirty blond hair, green eyes, fair skin that freckles across my nose and cheeks if  I'm out in the sun too much. My hair is not straight, and it is not curly, just somewhere in between, and usually pulled up in a messy bun. I'm a minimalist when it comes to make-up, but I'm not able to completely do without it. Overall, I'd say I'm a seven on a zero to ten scale. I think I'd make a great girlfriend. If only I could find someone else who thought the same.