Page 11 of The Last Kind of Kiss
During those sevenbeautifuldays when Aunt Flow came a-knocking, there was only one thing I craved (besides relief from the god-awful cramps ripping apart my uterus). It was this maple bacon burger that was served with the crispiest caramelized onions, but the catch was that the restaurant that carried it was thirty miles away from us. I would’ve settled for a cheap, flattened cheeseburger from a fast-food chain, but Bristol would always drive those extra thirty miles to get it for me. He told me that distance never mattered to him—that he’d cross the ocean to see me smile. He didn’t view me as some burden or chore he had to take care of.He wanted to take care of me.Andafter my father left, that was something I always struggled with. I’d learned from him that I was always the one to blame when things went wrong.
And that way of thinking was further enhanced on the night of my twentieth birthday. It was the first time in my entire life I wasn’t going to celebrate my birthday with my mother, and I remember feeling so alone. I was a sophomore in college. I had a handful of sorority sisters who I called my friends, as well as Aeris, but I chose to spend that night solely with my fling at the time.
I had too much to drink. I was reminiscing about feeling so empty and unappreciated on every single one of my birthdays because of the love my dad stole from me. And I remember saying to this man—this man I was starting to actually fall for—that I was surprised I was willing to share any details about my father with him at all. No hookups usually got to this stage with me—you know, past the shallow, surface-level shit I always fed them.
And good ol’ Jason Whittemore saw right through me that night. I’m pretty sure his exact words were, “No offense, but I don’t really care about your life. I don’t want to know about your past. You’re…too much to handle. You’re too loud, too emotional, too high maintenance. You have all this baggage, and I’m not going to stick around long enough for you to saddle me with it. If you think any guy would be willing to put up with you, you’re crazier than I thought.”
Then he walked away from me, right after the clock turned twelve, and left me to deal with my highly anticipated twenties all by myself. That remains one of the worst nights of my life.
Not all of the guys I fucked were like that, though. Some were obsessed with me, but the ones who saw through my façade…well, they’re why I don’t do relationships. I’m not strong enough to subject myself to that kind of scrutiny again. And nobody wants to be with a girl who’s too much.
A burden who requires too much care.
A liability who is tiring to be around.
A parasite who sucks the life out of everyone around her.
Even though Bristol was the first person to look me in the eyes and say, “You’re not a burden. And it wasn’t your fault your dad failed to be a parent,” it’s still hard for me to believe him.
Bristol was my biggest supporter. He built me up on the days when I was determined to tear myself down, and he held me through the torrential storm of imposter syndrome and self-deprecation that had ravaged me for so long. He held me even when I’d scream at him to leave me alone. And maybe I was just a stupid girl who only wanted to be loved, but I foolishly thought that meant he’d never abandon me.
But as I’ve grown to realize, the blame for why Bristol abandoned me sits solely onmyshoulders. And the weight has been killing me ever since. I drove him to leave because of my unwanted opinions and my insecurities and my unlovable baggage. And if my dad had stuck around to get to know me, he probably would’ve left for the same reasons.
Aeris’ face falls in tangible sympathy. “Oh, God. I didn’t even ask you how you’re doing. I’m so sorry, Li. This must be terrible for you.”
“It’s not great,” I mumble through held-back tears, feeling my heart give a few weak throbs in agreement, and all-consuming sadness bellows through me at a rate I can hardly conceive, much less slow.
Makeup abandoned, Aeris reaches out to sweep my hands into hers. Her tone is soft, comforting, harboring a maternal quality that always lends itself in dire situations. “I thought you were doing better.”
“I was. Until I saw him again. And then it was like everything came rushing back.”
“God, I hate him. Like, I know he’s Hayes’ best friend, but I hate him. Do I have your permission to put a piece of salmon in one of his air vents and let it rot?”
Surprisingly, a chuckle suffuses the space between us. “We’re better than that, Aer-Bear. Plus, salmon’s expensive.”
“Youmay be better than that, but I’m not.”
Aeris…the sweetest and simultaneously scariest person I know. Small in stature but as terrifying as a guard dog. Like a Doberman in a chihuahua’s body.
I could spend the rest of the night venting to her about how heartbroken I still am, but considering I have a red carpet to walk and don’t need my mascara running, I’d rather just end on a low note. At least it’s not rock-bottom low.
Inconspicuously changing the subject, I tap my phone awake and glance at the clock. “I think I should get going.”
Aeris shrieks, looks at the digital numbers that boast a gut-plummeting 7:40 p.m., and quickly irons out the nonexistent wrinkles in my dress. “Shit. Okay. Do you have everything? Have you eaten already?” she asks.
The thing about being in the spotlight is that every eye is constantly on you. Every camera is picking up on every tiny imperfection, and that includes imperfections that people think they’re entitled to comment on. I bloat like a whale, and considering how much of my stomach is showing, I’d rather avoid the confidence-destroying headlines.
“Yep. Ate a big lunch before you came over,” I lie, standing up to snatch my purse from my bed, and simultaneously enduring a painful stomach cramp that makes me wince.
“Okay. Good. Rich people events always have the grossest food.” She gives herself a glance in the mirror, then points finger guns at herself with a self-assured grin.
I laugh, feeling my heart inflate with enough love to scatter over a vast cosmos. Although he may be Bristol’s best friend, Hayes has helped Aeris grow to love herself and the body she’s in, and I’ll always owe him my gratitude for that.
After Aeris finishes flirting with herself in the mirror, she galvanizes my confidence with a wink. “Come on. The world’s waiting to meet their new It Girl.”
“You look gorgeous,”Bristol says, and although he’s gentlemanly enough not to ogle my tits, he’s not so gentlemanly in the length of time he spends staring at me, his gaze snaking down my body and sending a shiver through it like a potent shot of tequila.
I flash him a smug smile. “I know.”
