Page 1 of Muffin Top
Chapter One
Honey
Even I had to admit, I looked delicious. I floated around the bar, hips swaying in time to the band, enjoying the festivities. Halloween was one of my favorite days of the year. But then, I had a bunch of favorites. Christmas, New Year, July 4th, Valentine's Day, birthdays, any major event really. If there was an excuse to celebrate, I celebrated.
"Oh, Honey."
I cringed, freezing at the sound of my mother's voice. Mentally girding my loins, I pasted a smile on my face as I turned around. There she was, my stick-thin mother standing arm-in-arm with my handsome father. They were dressed as Cinderella and the Prince – post-rescue, of course. Her tiara matched her glittering dress, both of which were paired perfectly with father's outfit.
"Ah, my distinguished parents. Welcome!" I moved to kiss them, but my mother grabbed my arms, her fingers digging in to hold me at arm's length.
"Why didn't you wear the outfit I sent you?" My mother's sharp rebuke cut through the revelry around us. Heads turned, people glancing our way.
Why am I not wearing the pumpkin outfit you sent me? Hmm, maybe because no one should cover up the deliciousness of me?
I forced a small laugh, tossing my long hair, sending a cloud of shimmering glitter flying. I went with the easy answer, "it didn't fit."
Her mouth flattened into a thin pinched line. "And this," she waved a hand to encompass my outfit. "Does?"
I looked down at my god damned adorable, not to mention sexy, self. Pink corset, fluffy multicolored tutu and knee-high pastel striped socks paired with white kitten heels. I looked like a delicious cupcake – if a cupcake could turn people on, which, depending on the level of icing, was entirely possible.
"Yes," I replied, feeling my joy start to ebb. My mother was what I liked to call an emotional vampire. She got her sustenance by sucking the life and happiness out of the rest of us. My father was obviously a soulless zombie to have lived with her for so long.
She sniffed, dropping my arms. "You should really cover up. No one wants to see your cellulite."
It was kind of sad, but that little dig didn't even really hurt. Not after years of this kind of treatment.
"Thanks for your advice," I told her, stepping away. "But I'm not wearing this for others. I'm wearing this for-"
"Agatha!" My mother cried, waving briskly at someone behind me. "How was your holiday?"
And like a magical being, she disappeared into the crowd, taking another little piece of my joy with her.
My father trailed behind her, not even acknowledging my existence.
No surprise there.
In my family there were three – the heir, the spare, and the I-don't-care. In that race, I sat dead last. I always had, always would. I’d accepted it.
The band started playing a cover of Taylor Swift's Shake It Off, my mood once again lifting.
"Okay, music gods. I hear you." I shimmied my way back onto the dance floor, ignoring all the people around me, the couples making out, the groups of drunk women sloppily declaring their love of T-Swift. Instead, I concentrated on my body, loving the way it moved, relishing the way the music flowed through me and how I felt as I gave into the sensation.
One song flowed into another, then another, and before I knew it the band was wrapping up for the night, the bar calling for last drinks.
"Damn," I wiped sweat from my brow, beaming at one of the women who'd joined me at some point throughout the night. "That was a killer evening."
"I didn't get a man, but I got a dance partner," the woman dressed as Baby from Dirty Dancing held up a hand. I slapped it, beaming at her.
My friends had found their own lifts home hours before. Abandoning me for boys, booze and the sweet temptation of a night under someone.
One day I'll find a man worthy of my level of awesome.
I headed outside, my skin immediately prickling in the cool autumn air. I dug my car key out of the pocket I'd sewn into the underside of the tutu, and climbed in.
I'd originally planned a big night out with my girlfriends. We'd agreed to start the night at the Bronze Horseman, then retreat to the beach for a bonfire, all of us dancing under the full moon. Instead, here I was driving my sorry and sober ass home. Alone.
I sighed. At least music never let me down. I hit play on my mix, cranking the sound right up. I wanted to feel it thumping through me.
