Bon Bons to Yoga Pants

Chapter 42-Abandoned

"Lexie? Lex? Seriously. Wake up already!"

Someone grabbed my shoulder and shook me awake, pulling me from the deep reveries of sleep that held me captive. Images of Bradley whirled through my head, only to be replaced by Rachelle's quirked eyebrow and narrowed eyes.

"Why are you still asleep?" she asked. "It's almost two in the afternoon. You didn't even go to the gym this morning. Are you dying?"

I slowly straightened, surprised to find myself hunched over my desk, my back aching. I wiped my face with the back of my hand and struggled to clear my blurry vision. The imprint of a keyboard filled my face, and an endless stream of the letter F ran across the screen.

"I don't think I'm dying," I mumbled. "Though it probably feels this disorienting."

"When you didn't call me after your date with Bradley I got nervous. Mira texted me to ask where you were, said you hadn't been answering your phone. Your mom is at work, so I came to check on you. You're okay, right? He didn't slip you a roofie or anything, did he? I'll kill him. I'll cut off his—"

"No!" I cried, batting her off. "He was a perfect gentlemen. It's nothing like that."

She plopped onto a nearby chair, her eyebrows raised in question. "So?" she drawled. "Why the heck are you still asleep?"

I pushed away from the desk. "I had inspiration for those writing competitions, so I started working on them last night." I squinted at the clock, as if that would help my brain figure out the numbers better. "I think I fell asleep around six this morning, but I can't really remember. It's all pretty blurry."

"Yeah, yeah. But was the date that good? Are you writing a romance?" She followed me to the bathroom, nagging me with questions the whole way. "Did he kiss you? Was it really romantic? Tell me everything! I have to live vicariously through you, remember?"

I slammed the door in her face before she could follow me in. "No. To both."

"Aw. Really? He didn't kiss you? He couldn't even make it romantic?"

Despite the less-than-exciting nature of my and Bradley's date, I found myself smiling over it. In its own way, it had been perfect. "He tried," I clarified, calling through the door. "The execution failed."

"So? Are you going to see him again?"

Her voice was slightly muffled through the door, but I could still hear the hope lingering in it. "Yeah," I said. "We will. But not for a while."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that neither of us are ready yet."

She was standing right outside the bathroom door when I pulled it open, staring at me in open-mouthed astonishment. She waited so close to the doorway that our noses almost met.

"What? This is Bradley. Man of your dreams. The guy you've drooled over since December. How are you not ready for this?" Even though I stepped forward to move past her, she didn't budge. She shook her head. "Nope. You gotta explain. I'm dying here."

I sighed. "Fine. He's getting out of a complicated relationship, and I'm still figuring my life out, but both of us are interested. He sent me an email last night that said he was still planning on coming to McKenzie's wedding as my date, and we'll figure things out from there."

Rachelle's mouth dropped open. "That means you still have time to lose weight and get uber skinny! Lexie, this is awesome! You're going to get a Cinderella story."

The thought of having more time to lose weight hadn't actually occurred to me, and I didn't know to respond. A Cinderella story? What did that even mean?

"Yeah. I guess."

She stumbled backwards when I slid past, headed for my closet, where I rifled through my clothes to find something to exercise in. For the first time in my life, I had a head full of complicated thoughts that needed ironing out, and didn't think of food first. I looked forward to the zen state that walking gave me where I could sort through the tangled web of decisions and ideas in my brain.

"What do you mean you guess?" Rachelle asked. "Lexie, you're going to keep losing weight. Then you'll wear a size eight and he'll have no choice but to love you."

"It's not . . . it's not like that anymore."

Rachelle plopped onto my bed, sprawling her arms wide. "You don't want to be skinny?"

"No, I just . . . I don't really feel like I have to be skinny for Bradley."

She scoffed. "You're so lucky. Finding a guy that doesn't care about your size. Do you know how hard that is?"

I stopped rooting through the bowels of my closet and turned to look at her. "It has nothing to do with Bradley. I feel like I don't need to be skinny for Bradley. But—" I hesitated, wondering how honest I should be, and decided to plunge in full strength. "But I do feel like I need to be whole."

She propped up on her elbows, appearing bored. "Whole?"

"Yeah. I'm so messed up right now. I just need to figure it out."

"Figure what out?"

"My brain. My heart. My life." I threw my hands up. "I don't know. Whatever it is. Then I'll give Bradley another shot."

"Is that what you're writing about? Your brain?"

"No. My dad."

Her eyes widened. "You're actually going to write about your dad?"

My heart felt fluttery and nervous. It had been one thing to spend seven hours pounding on a keyboard, writing everything out that I could remember about him. To acknowledge that open part of my soul to another person was another matter entirely. I wasn't ready to talk about it yet.

"Yeah. I finished what I wanted to do last night, so I'm going to take it to Miss Bliss tomorrow and see what she thinks of it. But in the meantime, I'm going for a walk. Do you want to join me?"

She stared at me, her eyebrows pulled low, her face puckered into deep furrows.

"What's happened to you?" she asked. I dropped my hands to my side and met her searching, if not frightened, gaze. "I feel like we're so different now. Like . . . like you're so far above me, and I don't know how to measure up. We've always been in this lifestyle together. I feel so . . . abandoned."

The bed creaked as I sat down beside her—I guess some things didn't change with weight loss—and I let out a sigh that blew my hair out of my face.

"I haven't left you, Rachelle. I'm just tired of wallowing and drowning."

She blinked rapidly, so rapidly that it almost hid the little sparkle of tears that had risen to her eyes. In all of our years as friends, I had never seen Rachelle cry. Not even when her dad packed up and left, or her mom had a heart attack at forty three. Never.

"Yeah," she said, clearing her throat. "I guess I can understand that."

"Forcing the ghosts out of my closet doesn't mean we won't be friends anymore. It just means I won't feel so suffocated."

Rachelle smiled, but it was distant and weak. "I'm proud of you, Lexie. You're much braver than I am. There's so much wrong with me that I don't even want to face it, the way you are. Maybe one day I'll be like you. Anyway, let's talk about something else. What did you say about a walk? I guess I could use some sunshine and activity. Certainly isn't going to kill me, right?"

Rachelle is one complicated mess, but we still love her. What are your thoughts on their changing friendship? 

Thanks for reading, as always! Shoot your response in the comment and I'll see you tomorrow!