Good Enough

Mia - I'm Not Hungry

It's been a week since Julian showed up to my house in the middle of the night. I spent the rest of that night worrying if he only liked me in the dark of night, if maybe he was going to regret saying everything he did as soon as we saw each other again.

But he didn't take any of it back. As promised, we talked about it the next day, and Julian asked me to be his girlfriend. I said yes, of course I said yes, even when every fiber in my being was reminding me that I wasn't pretty enough for someone like Julian. I know I said he was alright looking, but I take it back. The way his eyes aren't only one shade of brown, the way his smile is contagious, the way his voice never wavers like everything he's saying is sure. He's not just alright, he's fucking gorgeous, and if guys can be beautiful, then he's beautiful too.

I look down at our clasped hands that are under the lunch table. I learned to sit on his left side so he could still do homework with his right hand. 'Drea thinks it's cute. In fact, all of our friends said they were just waiting for us to get together. I didn't think it was that obvious that I liked him or that he apparently liked me, but they all said it was. Foster even bet Lana a burrito that we would get together before the end of the semester. 

"Hey, aren't you going to eat something?" Foster asks me suddenly with his mouth full of cafeteria tater tots. I pull my eyes away fromJulian and I's hands enough to catch a full view of his lunch and my face twists up in disgust.

"Seeing someone chew with their mouth open tends to chase away an appetite." I say back, making him turn red before swallowing properly.

"Sorry," He says with a sheepish smile, "But seriously, how are you like never hungry?"

I shrug, choosing the kind of answer I could give carefully. I turn to Julian so I can hopefully change the topic with him, but he's looking down at me too. His face is tilted a little and he looks like he's analyzing me, wondering if I eat or not. I can almost feel everyone's eyes burning into me. At my old school no one ate lunch so it was never weird if you didn't. It was weirder if you did. But here everyone enjoys food and snacks throughout the whole day. The times we go out to eat after meets I don't bother getting food, claiming I can't eat after running. On the dates with Julian, I pick the lightest option and only eat half of it.

I clear my throat awkwardly and look back at Foster. "I dunno, I've just never been much of an eater."

Foster looks like he's going to say something else, but luckily elbows him, and it doesn't look like it was softly. "Leave the poor girl alone Foster. It's not her fault she doesn't shovel food like she's been starved."

Starved. The word echoes in my mind. I'd be lying if I said that my eating habits have gotten better since I started dating Julian. I just want to be pretty enough for him, and for me. Even after all this time, her words still ring in my mind. Pretty boys only date pretty girls. I'm not a pretty girl, but Julian certainly is a "pretty boy". 

Julian nudges my shoulder and I look at him.  He smiles slightly and pushes his sandwich towards me.

"Want some?"

I shake my head quickly. "No thanks. I'm not hungry."

Julian lowers his voice. "Mia, come on. You and I talked all last night, there's no way you ate dinner."

"I ate a lot at breakfast," I say, the lie coming off my tongue like second nature. It's like that instinct they say everyone has for survival. Yeah, these lies are part of my survival.

Julian frowns for a second. "Somehow I feel like that's not true."

I want to scream at him to stay out of my business, throw up my walls and deny everything he's saying. Of course he's right, I didn't eat breakfast. I told my mom I would eat lunch and the granola bar she handed me, both being more lies. Each lie I tell people is like another brick I use to put up those walls against people who ask too many questions.

But I don't scream at him. Instead I give him a small peck of a kiss and a smile, and I promise that I'm fine. I take out the granola bar and I take a bite of Julian's sandwich, and I laugh and talk with everyone else. I give Julian another kiss before we go to Spanish, and I explain to him that I'll meet him in class because I have to run to the bathroom.

And my fingers find their way down my throat- 

Except I stop.

I can't do it. Not here, not in the school bathroom, not when I have to go back out and face Julian. So I dust off my knees and wash my hands with the disgusting school soap. I'm only a few minutes late to Spanish, and when I sit next to Julian, it's like nothing ever happened.

Because nothing did. I know what I'm doing. 

I have it under control.

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