Eighteen year-old Zach Curtis has lost everything: his girlfriend, his job and his scholarship. Nothing in the world matters anymore, until he receives a rude awakening from a stranger.
Petite and awkward, Terra Quinn is living the life with her bes...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
– Terra –
"I can't believe I'm going to say this, but dinner was a bad idea." Abby says, rubbing her stomach in a rotational pattern.
"I think I'm going to have to agree." I say, holding back a burp.
We remain seated and neither of us decides to move. I look at the empty pizza boxes and greasy plates stained with smoky barbecue sauce, not daring to calculate the amount of calories that we have unintentionally consumed while binge watching Friends. It was when Abby reached for the final slice that we discovered the horrifying truth of our poor self-control.
We ordered enough for three grown men and planned on saving some for tomorrow. What happened?
"Looks like I'm going to have to give Zumba a miss tonight." Abby drones, checking the time. "I doubt my gut can digest all that junk in less than an hour."
"You said you were going to eat two slices." I say, throwing my head back and staring at the ceiling, feeling my face turn green, if that is possible.
"You said you were only going to have three." She talks back.
"Right. How did we end up eating three boxes and another carton of hot wings?" I mumble, feeling something rise up to my throat. I take a deep breath, monitoring my breathing. Overeating is a horrible feeling, it really is.
Abby props her elbows against the table, stacking the empty boxes on top of one another, preparing to throw them out.
"The sooner we get rid of the evidence, the sooner we can pretend we didn't completely destroy our diets." She says, lifting them away from the table.
"Good plan." I agree, proceeding to clear the plates. My stomach produces a weird sound the minute I stand up, and I start to feel sick again.
The cheesy aftertaste, a flavor that I would have savored otherwise, lingers a lot longer than I prefer. All I want to do now is lay on the couch and peacefully wait for the regretful feeling to subside.
"So are you really going to skip Zumba tonight?" I ask casually, reaching for the square yellow sponge while turning on the tap by the kitchen sink.
"I think that would be the smarter choice." Abby says, emptying the trash. "Besides, I do feel a lot better, so I'm not in desperate need for an intense distraction or anything."
"Good." I beam, my voice drowned out by the sound of running water.
"Mm-hmm, I'm doing better now, I'll be fine." She says reassuringly without a hint of sorrow in her tone. "I've been spending the week contemplating, and I think it'd be ridiculous to cry about it any further."
"Uh-huh." I nod, arranging the dishes on the wooden plate rack to dry.
"I mean, sure I was really heartbroken, but maybe it was also my fault for assuming Luke to feel the same way. I should've been aware of all possibilities." She shrugs, now leaning against the fridge. "I don't think I'll be ready to go guy-hunting again though."
