Seph

I can't stop giggling and it's really unlike me. I think I even forgot what it was like to feel like this.

  It turns out Kian has no problem talking about himself. So far, it's been fairly innocent. We've been sitting out here together for two hours, with our legs in the pool. He's told me that he has been couch surfing off and on for almost a year. He told me his mom named him Kian because she was obsessed with Keanu reeves.

"Guess what my middle name is,'" he says calmly.

 "Your middle name is not Reeves," I answer right away.

"It is. I wouldn't lie about that."

  I'm laughing again. "That's horrible."

  He grins. "Right?"

  I nod and lean forward to dip my hand into the water. It's warm and makes me want to hop right in, in my clothes. Besides the fact that I haven't laughed like this in a long time, I haven't really felt this comfortable, either.

  "Also, my dad was never around when I was growing up, but every year on my birthday he sends me the most ridiculous birthday card. Like totally inappropriate. And he includes the amount of money that I am. I'm really looking forward to that twenty-two bucks this year."

  I stare at him for a minute because I can't tell if he's serious. When he smiles again, I burst out laughing.

  "I shouldn't be laughing at this," I say, covering my mouth. "I just... I haven't laughed in a long time. It's nice."

  Kian is looking at me carefully. He's thinking about what to say next. He has no idea about anything that I've been through. He provably thinks my life is perfect in this perfect mansion with perfect rich parents.

  "I like your laugh," he says seriously. "But I feel like I don't deserve it."

  "What do you mean?" I ask him quickly.

  He looks at the water and then brings his eyes back to me. "I... I don't belong in Malibu. I don't belong... anywhere:"

  I shrug and try to lighten the mood somehow. "I don't belong here either. I mean... I don't feel like I do."

  He gives me a look that says I'm totally bullshitting him. "You grew up here. You have two parents. And this house-"

  "There's a lot of secrets in that house," I say without thinking.

  Again he shakes his head. "I should go."

  "Why?"

  "Your parents wouldn't want to see me here."

  I swallow hard. He really doesn't know anything about me or my parents. He only knows what Frank has told him. What has Frank told him?

  I want him to know the real me, which is crazy since we met two days ago. It might scare him off if he knows what I do to my body and why. But I really don't want him thinking I'm some over privileged rich kid who has always had the perfect, easy life.

  "I broke my foot in three places when I was fifteen," I spit out, to get his attention.

  "Oh, shit."

  "Yeah. I mean it would have sucked for anyone, but... it really sucked for me. I was a competitive gymnast until that day."

  Kian is thinking this over. He's looking at me carefully, at my body, and finally meets my eyes again. "I can see that."

  I roll my eyes at him. "I had two surgeries and a year of physical therapy to even walk without a cane."

  "Oh god. Sorry, that sounds horrible."

  "Yeah. It's pretty well healed now but those were really important years. I was supposed to go to the Olympics." I look at my foot. The bones are healed. There's some metal rods in there and sometimes when I am standing too long or doing so much exercise, the aching starts.

 I don't say this to brag. It's just the truth. My life got really messed up that day that I broke my foot. 

  Kian looks at me with a look that I can't read. I'm good at reading people so this is frustrating. "I have to admit something," he finally says.

  "Okay."

  What the hell is he about to say?

  "I'm really torn." He looks at his hands and then messes with the hem of his t-shirt for a minute. "I know I shouldn't be here with you. I shouldn't have taken you away from your party either."

  "I'm an adult. I mean, we both are. So it doesn't really matter what-"

  "Seph... this is classic rich girl and the servant shit," Kian spits out.

  He won't meet my eyes now and I know he knows that was a stupid thing to say. I want to scream. Instead, I take in a deep breath. "You think I'm just some rich girl."

  "I know there's more to you than that. But-"

  "But what?" I stop him again. "Seriously, I'm really angry with you right now."

  Kian manages to let out a laugh and I smack his arm right away. He scoots closer to me and his hand comes up to graze my cheek. "Well, you're really cute when you're angry."

  His fingers are rough against my skin and his eyes darken. He's so close to me. I don't care about anything else in the world at this moment, because Kian is exactly what I need. He's here and he looks at me in a way no one ever has.

  I close the space between us before he can. I press my lips to his and close my eyes, my heart beating faster than ever. I'm not even nervous. I'm just excited. I've been kissed before. I've been touched. But this is new. Forbidden.  Kian's hands grab the back of my head and somehow we get closer. It feels like only seconds pass when we hear the back door of the house open.

  Kian pushes me away and scrambles to his feet.

 "Josephine." It's Ronalda. I glance over. Kian is already walking back towards the gate. "There's a call on the house line for you."

  She's half smiling at me and winks as I pull my feet out of the pool and stand up. Kian is hovering by the gate when Ronalda turns and goes back into the house.

  "See ya," I say to him, barely looking at him.

  That was an amazing kiss and now he's just leaving? Screw him.

  "Seph, I... " He looks at me like he's begging me to forgive him.

  But I don't need to. That didn't mean anything. He's running away because he knows nothing good could come of us being together.  It's sad but true.

  I shake my head in his direction and then slip back inside the house.   My feet are still wet, so I wipe them on the mat by the door and then I stalk through then room towards the large open sitting room. There, Ronalda is holding the cordless phone. I know who's calling and I know why.

  I take the phone and bring it up to my ear, slowly. "Hi, Dad."

  "Josephine, what the world? Why did I get an alert on the camera for the back yard and then I look and see you sitting near the pool kissing some guy?"

  My dad has security cameras in the front and back yards. He gets notifications on his phone when there's movement. He's keeping track of me and he has done it for years, but it's also for safety. I'm usually pretty aware of the cameras, but this time I wasn't thinking when I kissed Kian. He made me let my guard down.

  "You care that I was kissing a guy in the back yard, Dad?" I ask him, hoping for a reaction. "I mean, I could have brought him to my room? Or do you have camera in there too?"

  "Josephine, please. Can't we ever have a casual conversation?"

  "About me kissing guys?"

  "Who is he?" he asks sternly.

 "You don't want to know."

  He clears his throat and sighs. "You're probably right."

  "Nice chatting with you, Dad." I'm ready to hang up.

  "Frank told me about your little joy ride with his nephew during the party," he goes on. "That wouldn't have been him in my back yard today, would it?"

  I have to tread carefully here. I know this. He'll find out who he is and make trouble where it's not needed.

  "Nope. Just a friend. I know that's hard to believe though since I'm just so unlikable."

  I'm just trying to hit him where it hurts. A couple of weeks ago, I had an argument with him. It was based off me not wanting to eating dinner with him and my mother. But he hit me with some pretty low blows that night.

You don't have friends, Josephine, because you don't try hard enough to be likeable.

  I stayed calm and walked away from the table but when I got upstairs I punched the wall and screamed into a pillow. Then I made myself throw up.

  "I have to go. I'll see you tonight," he finishes and hangs up before I can answer.

  My parents own and run a advertising agency. They both work practically every day and aren't home much. Yes, they inherited a shit ton of money from my mom's parents when they got married. That's how they got the business started and to where it is today. But they also work hard every single day. I used to work hard every day, too. Gymnastics was my job. It was my life.

  I hide in my bedroom with the door locked for the rest of the day. I watch a movie and then I blast the new Taylor swift album on repeat for awhile. That conversation with my dad, mixed with that interaction with Kian makes me want to get sick, but I haven't eaten today. It's the worst feeling. My stomach has stopped growling, as if it knows there's no use in letting me know it needs food. Starving myself is still better than eating and then throwing up.

  I want more than anything to leave this house, but I have no where to go. It's a prison, but I'm not being held here against my will.

  It's well past dinner time when there's a knock on the door. I'm sketching, which is my only real passion now. I'm not very good but it makes me feel like there's some true reason to make it to another day. Now, the paper in front of me is filled with little flowers.

  I don't call out to answer because I know whoever it is will come in anyway.

  "Jo?" my mom says in her sweetest voice, pushing the door open.

  Neither of my parents are monsters. They have never really harmed me in any way. My mom is sweet, in general. She's just selfish. She's the only one who calls me Jo. Even though I hate it.

  "Hi," I say back, standing up from the desk I was drawing at. In the same motion, I pull a book over to cover the sketch.

  "I heard you had a visitor this afternoon." Of course this is the first thing she says to me.

  Then I notices she's holding a plate with some food on it.

  "Ronalda said you didn't eat much today. I have some chicken breast and green beans here."

  The little comment about my visitor is quickly forgotten because she's trying to feed me. She loves feeding people and my eating disorders has caused her a lot of stress. The problem is, she thinks it's easily fixable.   It's not. She doesn't know this is partly her fault. I'd never hurt her by telling her that.

  "Thanks," I say anyway.

  She puts the plate down on my desk. "So... you had a friend here?"

  "Can we not do this?" I ask her, not meeting her eyes.

  "I know you're not a kid anymore, but you live in this house. We have a right to know who you're spending time with." She's still smiling but her tone has changed.

  "Do you?" I ask her.

   "Yes. You know there is a reputation to uphold for our family. We wanted you to make friends with John and Lisa's daughter and you refused. We would have liked it if you showed interest in any of our friends' sons, even. But-"

  "You want to tell me who I can be friends with?" I interrupt. "I have been isolated for a long time and now you're going to do this?"

  "Isolated? You're being dramatic, Jo."

  "I had over a year of hospital stays and physical therapy appointments. And the last two years have been hell. You know that." I don't look at her when I say this. She's a good mother, but she likes to pretend things are just fine when they aren't. It's her toxic trait

   "You need to eat," she says and the way she says eat, it stings.

  She honestly thinks all of my problems will be fixed if I just eat. She knows I'm still either not eating at all or purging what I do eat. I am too thin. I have lost most of my muscle. I don't have any reason to be strong anymore.

  "You just want to avoid my issues," I accuse her.

  "Tell me who the boy is and I'll talk about your... issues."

 Bribery. Wow. She's stooping low at this point.

"No thanks. Close the door on your way out," I finish.

 I stare at the plate of food for half an hour. It smells amazing. But I've gone all day without eating and if I eat any of this I'll have to throw up. I don't want to throw up. I never want to. So I leave the plate of food untouched and reach for my phone.

  The message from Kian's phone on Saturday night is still there. I texted myself Hi, and now I'm staring at that word. The blank space below it. He didn't text me. Not once since then. But he came back to the house for that ladder and he sat with me and we talked and laughed we kissed. He still hasn't texted me.

 Do you not think I'm worth the trouble? I send him without thinking.

  Fuck.

  I keep staring at my phone until the message shows as read. He's seen it.  It feels like hours pass by before he starts typing. Finally, his reply pops up.

  You're more than worth it. But I'm not worth you losing whatever it is you might lose by caring about me.