Page 33 of The Change Up
“It’s all good, Chlo.”
I watch as he retreats, and I feel like the world’s biggest asshole.
Sighing, I slide my headphones over my head and return my gaze out the window as I watch the tree-lined streets pass us by on our way back to campus.
You’ve screwed up again, Chloe.
And just like all the other times, I’m not enough.
I’m switching over the last load of my laundry into the dryer when Brynn bursts through the front door scaring me enough to make me jump.
“Are you being chased?” Carrying my laundry to the kitchen table, I start folding. Being on the road is really screwing up my routine, and I’m running low on clean underwear.
“What? No.” Brynn shakes her head as she walks toward the kitchen. She pulls out a Shiner Bock. Popping the top, she takes a drink before hopping up to sit on the counter.
“I’ve just never seen you run so fast.”
“Oh shut up.” She tosses her cap at me, laughing. For how fit Brynn stays, she’s not huge on exercise. She has the best metabolism I’ve ever known, which I’m super jealous of. Unlike Brynn, I have to work on maintaining my body, and even at that, I’m a little soft around the edges.
“I’ve been dying to hear the full story, and it’s killed me that you’ve been at home all day, and I’ve had to actually be in class today.” Bringing the bottle up to her lips, she takes another long pull. “Spill the deets, babe!”
Groaning, I fold the nightgown I was wearing last night when it happened. Blushing at the memory, I toss the garment aside. “It was mortifying, B.”
She scoffs. “Oh whatever, I bet he thought it was so hot. Q loves to watch—”
“Brynn!”
“What? I’m just saying there is absolutely nothing wrong with a little self-care.”
I roll my eyes and inhale deeply. “Look, I know there’s nothing wrong withmasturbation,” I say, whispering the word.
“Jesus, Chloe, own it.” Brynn pauses before yelling. “MASTURBATION! Guys do it all the time, why can’t we, as girls, express that we have needs too?”
“Hey, I read romance books for fun. Sure, I love the stories and getting to escape reality, but I also love the smut. I’m not a prude, but I’m private. What’s wrong with that?”
“Babe, absolutely nothing. But I hate seeing you beat yourself up over it. I mean, I think it’s sweet that Cody came bursting through your door. That’s the kind of guy he is. He’s caring and protective over his friends. That’s what makes him so great.”
It’s my turn to scoff before mumbling, “Except he’s not.”
“What do you mean?” Brynn’s eyebrows quirk as she stares at me. I feel that stare penetrate the layers I’ve been building for two years.
“We have a past.” I blurt the words out without meaning to. I’ve gone this long without anyone knowing my whole truth. I’m not about to spill any more secrets in the middle of this kitchen after we were just talking about masturbating. Tugging my laundry basket toward me, I grip the handles and storm out of the room, leaving a confused Brynn sitting on the counter.
A few hours later, I’m nose-deep in a book, forever grateful I used today to write my sports article recapping last night’s game,working ahead on assignments, and catching up on the typical household chores—laundry, meal prep, and some light cleaning.
My mind is spiraling. I’ve caught myself reading the same paragraph over and over, unable to shut off the conversation from earlier.
Brynn and Cody have this unique bond. And while I’m so happy they have their relationship, I’m tired of feeling like an outsider. To Brynn, Cody is incredible. He’s there to root her on, make her laugh, give her an ego boost with his flirty texts, and he’ll defend her till the end.
But he’s not the perfect guy everyone thinks he is.
To me, he’s pain, he’s sleepless nights, he’s self-doubt.
In my almost twenty-one years of life, I’ve battled with self-doubt more times than not. The feeling of not being enough constantly consumes me. When I stand in front of a mirror, I look back at the girl staring at me and pick apart every inch of her.
I don’t feel pretty enough. I don’t feel smart enough. I don’t feel like I’m ever good enough to get the guy. I want so desperately to be the girl picked first. The girl who gets the fairytale story, the happily ever after.
It doesn’t help that I live my life through the pages of romance novels. I always see the girl get the boy. But life isn’t a romance novel, and I’m stuck on the outskirts watching all the girls get the boys.
