face your demons // finn bálor

Chapter 24

Wanna know what fixes a crack in an already broken (and mended) heart? Wine.
I came into the Performance Center today, probably not looking my best. Had a mini mental breakdown, threw away all of my makeup, it was a mess. All because of a fucking 3AM text.
"U up?" I read out loud to myself, gagging at the name on the screen.
Seeing his name brought me to remember his shiny not-so-new girlfriend, who I got the chance to see in person days after he was begging me to take him back.
I'm not going to lie. She's pretty. Beautiful, even. Enough so that she makes me feel like I'm not good enough. That I need the makeup to make myself look at least half as pretty as she does.
Well, my sub-conscious was not having that thought. I, first, trashed my makeup stand. Then threw it all away. Barefaced for days, am I right?
Sure, until a coworker of mine commented on how tired I looked this morning.
"You doing okay? Lookin' tired."
Oh, Rami. You pure, innocent man. Don't you know it's not nice to tell a woman that she looks tired without makeup?
I ended up breaking down in tears right in front of him afterward, still thankful that no one else was there to witness. He instantly panicked, apologizing profusely and not leaving the floor next to me until I stopped. I have the hormones of a pregnant woman these days.
Don't worry. No babies in me. I checked. Thank the lord, because they would have been Colby's, and my life would be ruined.
Which brings me back to my wine statement. Rami felt so bad about earlier that he showed up, five minutes ago, to my door. With wine. Bless his heart.
The answer is always wine.
"So I, uh... I heard about what happened with Colby." I almost spit my sip back into the glass. This guy really just walks around with a foot in his mouth, doesn't he?
"Oh, yeah? From who?"
"No one in particular. Small talk in the locker room."
"Yeah, and what are they saying?" He shifts, awkwardly. Clearly he doesn't want to say. "Hun, if you didn't want to tell me, why did you bring it up?"
"Just about how you guys were supposed to be getting back together," he clears his throat and avoids looking at me, "I mean, they were saying something about a tattoo and a peach. And a picture, I think. I don't really know much."
Something about a tattoo and a peach. Is that some sort of code? Because I know for damn sure Colby wouldn't be talking about my fucking tramp stamp. I would gut him. It was a mistake tattoo that I got for my eighteenth birthday. I just haven't gotten around to removing it. What does he mean 'and a picture'?
"We weren't supposed to be getting back together, and I don't know anything about a peach? That's kind of weird?"
Rami just starts to laugh. Not like something is funny, but like he knows something. Which is kind of unsettling, considering the guy knows next to nothing about me.
"You have an iPhone? Pull up your emojis and take a good look at the peach."
I open the text from Colby and swipe to my emoji keyboard. It's just a peach.
"Rami, I don't get i-"
"Your ass. They were talking about your ass."
It's all starting to come together, now.
The guys, those that I work with almost every day of the week, are talking about my ass in the locker room. Along with a tattoo and a picture.
Colby fucking took a picture. Now it's circulating. Who's seen it? Oh god. Did Rami see it? Is that why he's here? DID CARLOS OR AIDEN SEE IT? Even fucking worse, did Fergal see it? He hasn't said much to me in the past few weeks, so he probably did.
"You okay, Kitty? If it helps, everyone was saying nice things."
"No, that doesn't fucking help. What the hell? Maybe you should go." I grab the bottle and shove the cork back in, starting toward the door.
Rami gets up, but doesn't leave. "Wait, wait. I just wanted to let you know that people have been talking. I didn't know if you knew or not, or if any of the girls talked to you."
"Of course none of the girls talked to me. They've all been bowing down to Zahra fucking Schreiber since she arrived, which means I'm invisible. Lexi doesn't even look at me."
I slam the door and down the last bit of wine in my glass, sitting back on the couch. I really don't know what I'm going to do. I can't show my face at work anymore. There's no way.
"I'm sorry. I know this sucks. I don't know, actually. But I can imagine. They're just spewing bullshit. It means nothing and if these people were your allies, they wouldn't be saying anything." He hesitates, but wraps an arm around me, sitting back down.
I don't know if it's the wine talking, but I start to feel a lot better.
"You know, you're right. I say we give them something to talk about, wouldn't you?"
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a/n
me @ kitty, watching (writing) her make poor decisions: