Ugly(9)

It’s different. Not the feel of the drink, my taste buds are used to it now. But the fact there’s someone who’s saying things to me and making me feel like more than just the stupid, ugly person I am.

“It feels nice to me. I like holding your hand. Do you like it?” Trent asks sweetly.

A smile bursts from him, uncontrollably erupting. I can feel the foreign riot of emotions dancing inside of me. “Yeah I do,” I quietly say.

Suddenly, my heart begins to race and I feel a patch of heat settle over my cheeks. Trent’s brown eyes smile at me as the warmth from his touch reaches a part of me I never knew existed. There’s a heat inside my body, an emotion I have never felt.

“Your pepperoni pizza,” the waiter says as he sets a large round tray in front of us, then places two plates down.

“Wow,” I say as I take in the large pie. It’s huge. I don’t recall the last time I saw so much food on a table. Well, not where I was welcomed to have any.

“It’s really yummy, here.” Trent picks up a slice and places it on my plate.

The smell alone is beyond intoxicating. I can’t wait to try it. I lift it, and the excess cheese drips onto my hand. The heat burns my fingertips, but I just can’t wait to taste it.

My stomach makes a small rumbling sound just as I take a bite, and I pray no one heard just how hungry I am.

“It’s good, right?” Trent asks through a mouthful of food.

“Mmmm, it really is.” I take another bite and really savor the flavors of the pie.

I can’t believe I end up eating three whole slices. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much. My pants feel really tight around my stomach, and I think I need to undo my button. “Ready for dessert?” Trent asks.

“Dessert? I don’t think I can fit anything more in my tummy.”

Trent laughs and lifts his glass to have a sip of his Coke. “Okay, no dessert. But, you have to have some popcorn at the movies.”

I smile. I can’t wait to try it.

“Ready to go?” Trent asks as he stands.

“Yes, thank you.” I stand and Trent links his fingers through mine. We make our way over to the cash register where the waiter who served us is waiting for us.

“How was your meal?” he asks me.

“You don’t talk to her, you ask me,” Trent half shouts, pulling me behind him as he steps in front of me.

“How was your meal?” The waiter asks Trent in a sarcastic tone.

“Watch your damn mouth. I’m a paying customer, and if you’re not nice to me and my girl, I’ll have you fired.”

His girl? I’m not his girl. I’m just Lily. Stupid, ugly Lily.

“That’ll be twenty-five dollars,” the waiter says, though now his tone sounds bored and dismissive.

Trent takes his wallet out and I see he gives him the exact amount. “I would’ve given you a tip, but you eye-fucked the wrong girl.” He turns, and almost pushes me out the door.

“Whatever, man,” I hear the pizza-shop worker say to our retrieving backs.

“Bastard. I should go in there and teach him a lesson.” Trent’s fingers squeeze my hand, tightening to the point of pain.

“Let’s just go to the movies and enjoy our night,” I encourage him, taking a step toward the cinemas, trying to pull him away.

“Yeah, alright.” He nods his head, but looks back over his shoulder toward the pizza place.

We walk hand in hand toward the theater and I can sense Trent calming down. He loosens his grip on my hand and his steps become slower.

“Thank you for inviting me out,” I say.

“I like you, Lily. I think you’re real pretty, really nice, and easy to talk to.” I smile, because I haven’t said much. “Here we are,” Trent says, holding the door open for me to enter before he does.

We go up the escalators to get our tickets, and Trent also gets two sodas and a huge tub of popcorn. When we get into the movie and find our seats, Trent lifts the arm rest separating us and throws his hand over the back of my chair.

I smile to myself, because for the first time ever, I actually feel wanted.

The movie was fun and I ate way too much popcorn and drank my soda. As Trent and I leave, a realization quickly washes over me.

“Are you okay?” Trent asks as we get off the bus and head in the direction of my home.

I simply nod, but Trent can tell something’s not right because he keeps quiet and every few minutes he turns to look at me.

“I can tell you’re not okay. What is it? Maybe I can help.”

“It’s nothing, really.” I don’t want to tell him about my Dad, how I live, or that I’m going home to darkness and an empty house. I don’t want to tell him how the moment I step inside the house I’m filled with dread because my surroundings are as hopeless as how my soul feels. “But, you can drop me off here, I’ll be fine. There’s no need to walk me all the way home.”