Taken aback, I looked down the bed and scanned her tiny frame, trying to think how someone like her could have body issues. She was petite… She was trim, athletic, but she looked damn good, maybe a bit too thin, but pretty fuckin’ special, regardless.
Lexi, seeing my interest in her figure, ripped her hand from mine, crossed her hands over her stomach, and curled up into the fetal position. Her green eyes grew wide with fear.
“Lexi? What the fuck—”
“Don’t look at me like that! I can’t bear to be looked at like that!” she said kinda hysterically.
“I wasn’t!” I said through gritted teeth. Her eyes narrowed at my lie. “Well, okay, I was. But I was trying to work out why the hell you had issues! I wasn’t scrutinizing you, Pix. I’m not that much of an asshole.”
Her lowered eyelids and flushed face told me she didn’t believe me.
Shifting closer again, I was almost right against her body. “Pix, tell me why you were homeschooled.”
“I can’t—”
“Tell me why you were homeschooled.” I interrupted.
“No, I can’t—”
“For fuck sake, Pix, tell me why the hell you were homeschooled!” I shouted a little too loud.
“Because I was anorexic! There, are you happy!” she screamed and fisted my shirt. “Because I was anorexic,” she said a second time, water filling her eyes. “I was anorexic…” She trailed off and those threatening tears began pouring from her eyes.
Anorexic?
Fuck. I had no clue what to say to that shit.
Lexi’s forehead met my chest, and she cried into my shirt. I wanted to hold her, but I’d promised not to touch her. But when Lexi sobbed, I couldn’t resist. So, lifting my hands, I slowly wrapped them in her hair and held her real close.
Lexi hadn’t even flinched at my unwanted touch. That kinda made my heart swell in my chest.
“Shh, Pix, calm down. It’s okay,” I soothed.
“It’s not, Austin. None of this shit is okay,” she whispered. “I’m getting too sick of fighting it off. Of fighting him off! I’m about done.”
That made me freeze and, pushing her head back from my chest, I met her bloodshot eyes. “Fighting what off? About done with what?”
Lexi hiccupped from crying too hard and said, “The temptation of the inner voice… the desperate temptation to go back there, to freely give over the reins.”
Panic ran through my veins at the desolate tone of her voice. “You mean you’re still fighting this shit? When you mentioned high school, I thought you meant you were cured.”
Lexi’s face frosted over and she hissed, “There’s no such thing as cured. I hate that godforsaken word! I’m not cured. Not with this, this goddamn awful disorder.”
“But—”
“Just like you and the Heighters. Your connection with it never ends. You got into that gang young and it stays with you for life. You said so yourself.” Her statement stopped me short. “What was it you said when I mentioned lasering off your tattoos, about ridding yourself of the Heighters? Oh yeah, it don’t work like that. It’s the same with me and eating. The temptation to avoid food is always there. And will always be there.”
I thought back to Lexi’s weirdness with Cass about her hug after the game. At her reaction to my offer of a drink and, specifically, the way she stared at the bastard Coke can.
“The Coke,” I whispered out loud, and Lexi huffed out a small laugh.
“Yeah, the Coke. Twelve ounces of soda. One hundred sixty calories. Zero grams of fat, but forty-two grams of carbs and forty-two grams of sugar. If consumed, it would take twenty minutes of hard jogging to work it off. But I wouldn’t just stop there. I’d have to jog another ten minutes more just to be sure I hadn’t calculated anything wrong. Plus, then I’d be about one hundred calories in the negative. Because ten minutes of jogging roughly works off one hundred calories, and the more calories burned means more pounds off the scale. I live by the measure of that scale.”
Stunned, my hands slipped from Lexi’s head, and she smiled coldly at my reaction, lifting her hand to cover her mouth with the pulled-down sleeve of her shirt.
“Great isn’t it, Austin? Living with that. Thinking like that over everything: food, drink, exercise, every part of everyday life, forever. Hating brushing your teeth every morning and night because toothpaste probably has calories, doesn’t it? So after brushing your teeth, you drop to the cold tile floor in the bathroom and do fifty push-ups and fifty sit-ups just in case a few wayward calories slipped into your stomach and jeopardized your goal.”
“Fuck, Pix,” was all I could offer in response to her outburst. She seemed breathless with the exertion of her confession.
“Welcome to the freak show, Austin. I’m here all week,” Lexi said sadly.
I stared at her in sympathy. “You’re right. You are a freak,” I said bluntly, and the hurt that transformed her face almost cut me.