My brain feels like it was shoved into a wall when I wake up. The spot between my eyes throbs incessantly and I groan, clutching my aching head. My senses return to me one by one. Burning eyes, stuffy nose, swollen mouth. And that's when I finally remember.

I'm currently the laughing stock of the world.

"Crap," I whisper and lie down again. I cover my eyes with my palms when I feel them growing wet again. I can't seem to stop crying. "Crap, crap, crap. Cut it out."

But it's no use. The tears fall anyway and I swipe them away angrily. I'm sick of crying. I'm sick of myself. I'm sick of the world thinking it's okay to judge someone for the way they look when that's simply the way they were born. I'm sick of all these expectations women are expected to uphold in their appearance and I'm sick of being told I'm not good enough if I don't fit those so-called categories. I'm sick of not feeling pretty when I'm two-hundred pounds and not pretty when I'm one-hundred and thirty pounds. I'm sick of it all.

Begrudgingly I grab my phone off my side table and turn it on. I'm not surprised to find a ton of missed calls and messages. My parents, Harper, Dani, Sawyer, Mara, and even Travis (the cake-snatcher from the gala) reminding me that I'm his best girl and that I'll always be too hot for him. And all of that is excluding the millions of messages and calls Holden left for me since yesterday.

I have so many people in my corner. I came to San Francisco half a year ago with nobody on my side and now I'm swimming in love and support. I know that. I'm so grateful for that. But the reminder that I have literal millions, a non-exaggerated number of millions, of people dissecting my looks and everything they think is wrong with me, is something I can't seem to put behind me. I'm being picked apart flaw by flaw for...nothing. I didn't do anything to these people. I didn't do anything to my classmates throughout high school and middle school. I tried to be kind and funny and a good person but it was never enough. I don't think I'll ever feel like I'm enough.

I know I can't keep doing this. I can't hide forever. As much as I want to I can't. I'm an adult with responsibilities and expectations to meet. I'd love nothing more to sleep the rest of the day so I can find relief from this literal nightmare I'm going through but I can't. So I suck it up and drag myself out of bed.

It doesn't go so well. I cry through my entire shower, grateful that no one can hear me above the sound of water even though I live alone. I just can't help being self-conscious anyway because I'm crying so loudly that my throat hurts. By the time I'm done and stand in front of the mirror, I find that my face is swollen beyond belief. I hate the sight of it.

I unwrap my towel and look at my body next. Boobs that aren't perky, a waist that could probably be thinner if I worked harder at it, hip dips that have remained there even after losing my stomach fat because I can't change my skeletal frame, arms that kind of jiggle at the bottom, thighs that touch, and is it just me or does my stomach not look as flat as it did yesterday? Did I gain a few pounds? I remember looking skinnier yesterday. I remember my body looking nicer yesterday. Today it looks like flawed parts thrown together in a body that isn't sexy. I quickly wrap my towel around myself and look away from the mirror. I don't like what I see anymore.

I'm numb while getting ready. I'm taking the day off from work and updated the bakery's website to let customers know but I'm still going to get ready and try to feel better about myself. I'm trying so hard even if it's the last thing I want to do.

I do my makeup. I wear a dress that I know is flattering on me. I straighten my hair because I want to wear it long today. I go through all the motions because I want to feel pretty. I need it today. And yet, when I chance a look at my reflection again I just flinch. I still don't like what I see. I did everything I could to feel pretty but it didn't work. I don't think I look pretty at all.

I don't really know what else to do. I'm avoiding the bakery because the thought of seeing strangers is giving me anxiety. I'll go crazy wondering if they've seen that I'm trending, or if they try to scrutinize my body, or if I get another one of those pity-smiles I got all day yesterday. I'm avoiding seeing my friends because they'll just tell me the things they think I should hear and then I'll feel guilty when it doesn't work. I'm avoiding my boyfriend because my confidence has been smashed to pieces and I don't want to so much as show him my face. I'm avoiding my phone because my heart just can't handle another nasty comment right now. I made the mistake of opening up Twitter before I went to sleep and saw comments even nastier than the ones before and then cried the rest of the night.

I don't know what to do. I don't know who to talk to. I know I have support but at the same time I don't. Nobody understands what's happening with me right now and it's no one's fault. It just...sucks.

My phone starts buzzing on the night stand and I jump, the faint noise pulling me out of my thoughts. I reach for it like it might bite me, pure dread encasing me at the thought of having to talk to someone. I'm pretty floored when I see that it's Sawyer calling. It's unusual enough that curiosity gets the better of me and I answer, chewing my lips.

"Hi," I greet him tentatively.

"Hey gorgeous," He replies just as softly and I'm horrified that my lip actually trembles. I just don't feel deserving of anyone's kindness right now. "Are you up for some company?"

His question takes me by surprise but at least I'm momentarily distracted from bursting out crying again. "Oh. Um...I don't know. Are you...are you coming over or something?"

"I knew it. You've always had the hots for me, haven't you?"

A reluctant smile pulls at my lips. "You've got the wrong girl. Although the right one may be closer to you than you think."

"What?" He clears his throat. "What makes you say that? I mean, did you hear anything? From...someone?"

I knew he was crushing on Harper. I laugh under my breath. "Believe it or not, I'm choosing not to meddle. You flirt more than you breathe. This isn't something you can't handle it."

"You'd be surprised," He mumbles gruffly. He clears his throat again. "Anyway, I was asking for Holden."

My smile slips off immediately. I hate that it does. He's the one who I should be finding comfort in yet he's the one I want to run away from most. I'm not sure if I want to see him just yet. "Sawyer..."

"Just ask him to come home, Ser. He's no good here."

"No good?"

"I've never seen him so unfocused. He's forgetting all his meeting times and sending the wrong emails. On top of that he's trying to sue any tabloid or magazine that posted unsolicited pictures of you. Terry Morrow had to come in—Holden's co-partner. It's the first time he's stepped foot in this agency in a year because Holden can't get it together."

Crap. That's not good. And he wouldn't even be in this position if it wasn't for me. I don't want him to get in trouble over something that isn't his fault. He didn't ask for his life to be ruined just because I have a past that no one wants to forget apparently.

"Okay. I'm on my way."

"You don't have to do that. Just call him and—"

"That won't work. He'd just hang up on me because he's too stubborn to listen to what I have to say. I'll come."

There's a thoughtful pause. "If you're sure."

"I am," I say even though I'm not. "See you soon."

I hang up and stare at my phone, nerves ricocheting through my whole body. I don't want to go outside today. I really don't. But at the same time it's only going to get harder the longer I stay holed up at home. Maybe this is exactly what I need to do. Just rip off the band-aid and deal with it.

"You can do this," I whisper to myself, slipping on a pair of flats. "I'm okay. I can do this. I'm okay."

I feel unimaginable relief when I'm greeted with an empty hallway. I take a peek around and speed-walk to the elevator, keeping my head down in case there are people in there. But I might have some good luck on my side after all because the elevator is empty too and I exhale, walking inside. I order an Uber from the elevator and then speed-walk out of the lobby, my gaze planted firmly on the ground so that my hair curtains my face and hides it.

As I wait for the Uber outside, I can't stop fiddling. Smoothing down my dress and pulling it away from my waist and trying to keep my stomach sucked in. Should I have worn something looser? Something that hid my body better? I normally love this dress on myself but I just realized how tight it is and now I can't stop thinking about all the times I've worn it before and if my body didn't look so great during those times. Did I really walk around in this thing for everyone to see? Why do I even own it?

I'm going unimaginably insane by the time my Uber arrives. I get in the backseat and hold my purse in front of my stomach, covering myself. The driver asks me where I want to go and I rattle off the address. Our eyes lock in the rear-view mirror and he does a double-take at me, eyes widening slightly. I look away immediately and a hot pulsing starts in my throat. He knows.

Maybe I shouldn't be doing this. But it's too late because the car is moving and I'm stuck here and the dumb driver won't stop glancing at me nervously.

Please stop.

"Are you okay?" He asks quietly when we come to a red light. "You look nauseous. Do you want to stop on the curb, get some air?"

He definitely knows. I'm basically the poster image of a puppy kicked into traffic. My cheeks grow warm.

"I'm fine," I make myself say.

"Okay." He doesn't sound so sure, though. "I hope this isn't too straight-forward or anything but you're really pretty. I wasn't expecting that when you got in the car. Am I making a complete idiot of myself?"

My brows pull in. Is he making fun of me? Or maybe he feels bad for me. Either way I feel even more self-conscious than before and thank him quietly, looking out the window. Thankfully he picks up on my mood and doesn't say anything for the remainder of our drive.

I pay him when we arrive and get out like my ass is on fire. The streets are busy and crowded and I'm silently begging that no one notices me. I do my best to blend in with the crowd and walk toward San Francisco's Player Management. My Uber dropped me off at the back so I weave through the underground parking lot to cross to the front. And that's when my eye catches Holden's car, and Holden in it. I squint and slowly move closer. He looks like he's screaming, furious and hands waving in the air. His tie is stretched out, he's sans jacket with his dress shirt wrinkled, and his hair looks like someone tried to vacuum it up.

He's out of control. For the first time in his life, he's completely out of control.

The guilt makes it hard to breathe and hard to walk. But I force myself to walk to his car and pull at the door handle, luckily finding it unlocked. Holden sharply turns his head, and his eyes widen for a moment when he sees me. He holds his hands up and tries to tell me to go back outside. Go back outside?

"—a fucking embarrassment! And you sued the magazine that features me monthly! I'm not letting my career tank or watching you become the laughing stock of this industry. You're fired, Rey."

My eyes widen at the same time my stomach drops to the floor. Did Holden just get fired...because his clients are embarrassed for him? Because of me?

"Go fuck yourself," Holden spits and the menace in his voice makes me flinch. "I'm not fucking shaking my tiara trying to represent a small-dicked asshole. Your career tanked the moment you decided to open your mouth about my girl."

Holden closes the Bluetooth with a curse, jaw clenched and pulsing. Tears spring in my eyes, hot and persistent and humiliating. This is all my fault. The whole world is begging him to move on and find someone better, someone who looks the part and acts the part. Not only is he being laughed at, but now his career is suffering because of me too. I can't carry the weight of that. I can't carry my own shame and the shame of ruining Holden's life and for what? I'm not worth all this trouble.

"I didn't want you to hear that." He reaches for me now and grabs my hand, helping me inside his car. I close the door behind me but I'm not so sure where to look. There's so much tension. Holden cups my face and gently tugs it up, deciding for me. "I'm going to fix this. I promise you I'm going to do everything I can. My team is on it and all the verified accounts took their tweets down. Nothing new has resurfaced and—"

"Stop," I beg and push his hands away. "Just stop. I can't do this."

"It's a lot," He agrees. "It's too much for one day. I know. How about we go somewhere? I have a lake house just on the outskirts of the city. There's no one around for miles. We can spend a week there, two weeks, the rest of the year. Whatever you need."

He's too good. He shouldn't have to do this. He knows he can't just get away when his career is hanging by a thread. He's throwing himself in the fire when this is my responsibility. My fault.

My gut clenches. I want to throw up. "I meant us, Holden. I can't...I want to end this."

His entire body stills, staring at me like he might have just imagined the words I said. "What?"

"Look at what I've done," I plead, begging him to understand why I'm doing this. "You just got fired. You're the number one recruiter in state and you just got fired because your client couldn't stand the embarrassment."

"He was a done deal," He fires back through gritted teeth. "He got all pissy about the tabloids because he's a pretty face and nothing more. His stats suck, his contract won't be renewed, and he was going to be out of a job. The magazine and endorsements are all he has and he's a superficial fuck on top of it all. It's right here in my calendar, Sierra. We were letting him go anyway. It's not a loss. Look."

He fumbles for his phone, trying to show me, and my heart cracks opens. Ruptures and bleeds. I know he'd do anything for me but that's the point. It's not up to him to save me and he won't stop unless I forcibly make him. This is the only way I know how.

"Holden, please." I grab his hands and he curses again, looking away.

"You can't do this, Sierra."

"You need to understand. I barely made it here to you today. I felt like everyone was staring and whispering at me even though I'm sure they weren't. I couldn't look at myself in the mirror. It's hard to even look at you because I'm so stupidly insecure right now. I can't be in a relationship if I can't look my boyfriend in the eye."

He turns his gaze to me, incredulous. "Why? You know I think you're beautiful. You're everything to me. Why can't you see that?"

"I don't know!" I take my hands away like I was burned. How did everything fall apart so fast? "I don't know why I can't stop feeling like this. I don't know why I'll never be happy with the way I look. I don't know why I keep letting my insecurities ruin my life. But most of all I don't know why the world won't even give me a chance to breathe and fix this!"

The look in his eyes is tortured. "Let me help. I can fix this."

"You can't!" I practically explode. He needs to get this. "I know you want to control this but you can't. And that feeling of helplessness, that you can't just let this go or let things be? That's exactly what I feel right now! So tell me now that I can't do this when you can't even do it yourself."

He pushes his hands through his hair and then it's staggeringly quiet. The silence is so, so painful. It sounds like surrender. And if we're not fighting for us anymore...then we're done.

"Don't run from me," He whispers, head dropped between his shoulders. I can't see his face but I can hear the anguish. "Don't run, Shortcake."

"I'm not." The tears fall, hot and fast. "For the first time I'm not running. I'm stopping to catch my breath. I deserve to breathe and you deserve to keep going. You deserve to run now."

"I don't want to!" He lifts his head and my breath catches at the sight of his eyes, red from unshed tears.

"I know," I whisper. I lean forward and he meets me halfway without hesitation, crushing my mouth to his desperately. Pleadingly. Achingly. I kiss him back just as hard. He tastes like coffee and the salt of my tears. I have to yank myself away because he won't let go but I manage, gasping for air. "That's why I'm not giving you a choice."

I grab my purse and get out the door before I can change my mind, not even bothering to close it. I can hear him calling my name and trying one last time but it's done. I'm done. And now we have to let go.

________________________

A/N

I'm not crying, you are...

No, what the fuck? I'm totally crying don't look at me.

This chapter broke my heart for Sierra because I can relate way too well. Some of her dialogue of when she was looking in the mirror and pointing out her flaws are actual things I've said to myself, repeatedly. I just want to take a moment to remind everyone they're beautiful just as they are, and if they feel like they're not then they can talk to me. I'm here. And I love you.

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Happy Reading :)