“I was going to ask if you decided to go to Christian’s to meet up with Oakley, but the music and people in the background kind of answered my question.”

“Oh, yeah.”

I’m debating how to break it to her that I couldn’t formulate her cousin’s tutoring schedule because he’s shitfaced and hooking up with Morgan, but then she says, “Uh-oh. What’s wrong? Are you okay? Do you need me—”

“No. I’m fine.”

“Liar.”

I hate how perceptive she is. Almost as much as I hate that she graduated last year and I’m all alone in this hellhole again.

“Look, I tried, but I couldn’t nail down a schedule with Oakley. He was too busy getting drunk and playing tonsil hockey with Morgan.”

“What?” She groans. “Crap. I’m sorry. We talked this morning and he swore he was serious about getting his act together.”

Like me, Dylan gives most people the benefit of the doubt.

“It’s not your fault. I’m sure he’ll call me tomorrow and apologize.”

“He better. Or he’ll be dealing with me. I don’t want to see him screw up his life. He has to graduate this year.”

Agreed. Oakley’s a great guy with tons of potential…he’s just caught up in a bad spiral. But I know with enough persistence, Dylan and I can pull him out of it and get him back on the right track.

“Don’t worry. The first week of school just ended today. Between the two of us, I’m sure we’ll get through to him.”

Hopefully sooner rather than later.

She sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks for keeping an eye on him for me. I know you have your own shit…wait…that reminds me. What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow is Saturday…so you know, the usual. Nothing.”

“Good. How about a sleepover at my place? I figure we can eat loads of carbs, you can fill me in on the latest RHA gossip, and we can binge watch a few eighties movies.”

Sounds like paradise, but I don’t want to intrude. Or worse…be the third wheel.

I won’t ever tell her this, because I’m honestly thrilled she ended up with her soulmate and all, but it really sucks that it happens to be Jace Covington.

Cole and Bianca’s older brother.

Although, as far as the devil’s triangle of siblings goes, he’s the best of the trio.

Well…now. He wasn’t always so nice to Dylan due to a tragic misunderstanding that ripped their former friendship apart.

Fortunately, he wised up, pulled his head out of his ass, and treats her like gold now.

So much so, it’s equally nauseating and inspiring how in love they are. Jace doesn’t leave a room without checking how Dylan is or seeing if she needs anything...and they freaking live together.

The boy literally worships the ground she walks on.

And these days Dylan smiles so much that—according to my mother—she’s going to have some serious laugh lines and crow’s feet by the time she’s twenty-five.

I hope like hell she’s right. I want my friend to always be as happy as she is now.

However, I don’t want to impose on the cheerful couple’s honeymoon stage.

Especially since Dylan let it slip that Jace devotes just as much attention to her in the bedroom as he does outside of it.

“Are you sure your boyfriend won’t mind me spending the night?”

“Are you kidding? Not only does Jace know to never intrude on my girl time with you, he’s been working his ass off finishing Z.I. part two and I know he’ll secretly be relieved I’m distracted.”

“As opposed to being dick-stracted?”

Her laughter fills my ears. “And that right there is just one reason you have to come over. It’s been ten days since we’ve hung out and I’m going through Sawyer withdrawals. I can’t wait until we go to the same school again.”

My stomach knots. “That might not happen…it all depends on if Duke’s grants me a scholarship or not.”

Duke’s Heart is extremely competitive. You either need to have the money or the brains to get accepted…and they usually prefer both.

I only have one to offer them…and I’m afraid it won’t be enough.

Nothing I have to offer ever is.

“Hey,” Dylan snaps. “You are one of the smartest, greatest people I know, Sawyer Church. Duke’s would be lucky to have someone like you and they should be groveling at your feet for the chance. I know you’re going to nail this application essay as well as your SATs. You, my friend, are going places. Big places. Church is in session and the world better prepare itself.”

I’m the one who’s laughing now. “Wow, that was one hell of a motivational speech. Did you think that up on the fly?”

“Yes, but I meant every word.” She exhales sharply. “I might also be taking a class on marketing and how to pull in potential clients…or in my case, alternative rock bands. Did it work?”

I tell her the truth. “Totally. Where do I sign?”

“Well, if you would finally agree to let the world hear your beautiful voice—”

I stop her right there. “Sorry, I’m going through a tunnel, bad reception. Love you, can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

I hang up before she can protest. Ever since she caught me singing during a car ride this summer, she’s been on my case about it.

But I only sing at church, along with a choir, because it’s where I’m most comfortable.

I don’t have the confidence to sing for anyone else but God, because he’s the only one who won’t criticize my appearance.

The world doesn’t take kindly to fat girls. The cold, hard truth is something my mother drilled into my head the moment the scale deemed me overweight back in sixth grade.

It would be a waste and I’d embarrass myself for even trying to put myself out there. Unless I lost fifty pounds first.

Unfortunately for me, losing weight is easier said than done.

I might be good at some things…but dieting has never been one of them.

Adjusting myself on the bed, I close my eyes and sigh.

Sometimes I envision a world where I’m pretty and thin and have all the opportunities attractive people do.

Then there are other times where my thoughts turn dark, and I secretly wish I could make every cute boy and every mean girl who ever made fun of me eat their words and choke on their insults.

But mostly? I just want to be able to look in the mirror and be happy with what I see staring back at me.

I want to know what it’s like to feel like I’m enough.

Don’t get me wrong, my self-esteem isn’t so low that I hate myself. Quite the contrary, I like who I am and know I’m a great person on the inside. I’m a hard worker, I’d give anyone in need the shirt off my back—or the extra ones I keep with me—and I have a sarcastic, stellar personality…but those qualities aren’t enough for the world.

Spend five seconds on social media and you’ll quickly find out that the worst thing you can be…is fat.

Spend ten seconds in a room with my mother or older sister and you’ll realize how poorly you measure up to the perfect beauty queens.

I’m the proverbial round peg forever trying to fit inside a square hole…desperately trying to make my outside match my inside.