Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Corrie takes a loud bite of a potato chip.
“Well, you could always ask your sister for his number.”
I snort.
“Right, and what am I going to say to Angela? By the way I slept with Hunter before he left and was hoping to get in touch with him. Can I have his number? Pretty please?”
“Sure, you could do that,” Corinne says with a hint of a smile. “Or not. How is Angela by the way?” she asks as my hand dives into the bag of chips in my arms. The crunch was satisfying in more ways than one. It was as if all my frustrations were released in that single loud snap as I annihilated the snack.
“Angela’s fine,” I say moodily. “She’s still going out with that Duane guy.”
Corrie grimaces.
“The one with the greasy combover, big pot belly, and who’s also a porn star?” Corrie asks wryly.
“Yeah,” I nod. “Thank god they haven’t actually filmed anything yet, but if they ever do, our parents will freak.”
“What parents wouldn’t?” Corrie asks. “Videotape is forever.”
“I know,” I say glumly.
Corrie then sighs.
“Listen, you have to cheer up, Catherine. I know that it’s hard to get over your first, but Hunter’s gone, your sister is insane, and you’ll meet a new guy. It’s the circle of life,” Corinne says as she snags the bag of chips from my hand and takes one for herself.
“But I’m stressed,” I confess, stealing the bag back. “And I keep thinking about him.”
“I can see that. Have you tried going for therapy?”
I shake my head. Corrie shoots me a meaningful look.
“Well, maybe you should. If you’d stop obsessing over Hunter, then maybe you could actually move on with your life.”
“Corinne, I can’t. He’s all I think about.”
My friend just shakes her head.
“This is really not healthy. Maybe…” Corinne paused for a moment, contemplating her words. “Maybe it’s time to let him go. You know like do a cleanse or something. Sure, you guys had one amazing night together. But that was two months ago, and he hasn’t tried to contact you since.”
I look down at the chip in my hand dejectedly.
“I know I can’t hold on to the past. I get it. I do,” I say, scrunching my eyebrows. “But I can’t shake this feeling like we’re supposed to be together. Is there such thing as fate?”
“Oh honey, you’ve got it bad,” Corinne says, patting my shoulder. “But sometimes our brains take us in circles, and what we want isn’t healthy. Take these chips for example.”
“Please don’t talk to me about how I should stop eating junk food,” I say. “I already get enough of that from my sister.” Corrie ignores me and begins to expound on the theory of emotional eating. Her voice drones on and on as I tune her out.
I sigh again. I know that I’m eating my emotions. But it feels good to eat. In slow motion, I watch as Corinne lifts a chip up to her face and leans in. Her mouth opens super-wide and her teeth chomp down on it with a loud crackle. Suddenly, my stomach heaves.
I lift a finger up and cock my head as if I’m hearing something strange. The rumble in my stomach grows louder and suddenly, I leap up and run to the bathroom before puking my guts out in the first stall.
“Hey, are you okay?” Corinne asks as she follows me in alarm. Her voice bounces off the walls, making my head pound.
“Peachy,” I answer before another vicious hurl of vomit erupts from my mouth.
“Oh girl, you got it bad,” Corinne says with big eyes. “Was it something you ate? Or something I said?”
I stand there, bent over with my hands on my knees. I’m panting a bit and my face feels strangely hot.
“No,” I say, gritting my teeth. Then, I lift my head out of the toilet and flush it. “I’ve just not been feeling very well.”
“You’re making yourself sick with worry. Your Hunter obsession isn’t good for you, especially since it’s making you throw up.”
“But I can’t let him go,” I say, rising to my feet. Suddenly exhausted, I make my way to the bathroom sink. Cool water pours out of the spout. I dip my hands in and splash my face, trying to ease the burning in my cheeks. My friend looks at me with sympathy in her eyes.
“You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” Corrie says, rubbing my back. “There are only two reasons a person throws up like that. One, you’ve worked yourself up so much that it’s stressing you out. Or two, you’re knocked up.”
That made me jerk up with surprise.
“I’m not pregnant,” I said, grabbing a handful of paper towels to dry my face.
“You sure about that? You told me you guys didn’t use protection when you were together. Is there a possibility that you could be?”