I can't believe it really happened. That I landed the man of my dreams against all odds.

Everything was stacked against me. I wasn't his type; I had known that from the beginning. Peter Burgett probably dates girls who look like supermodels. Maybe he even has dated a few supermodels. He certainly has the money to be in their social circles. The money. The career. The looks. The man has it all.

And I came from nothing. A fat girl from a poor family with a bad reputation.

I had moved here to escape all of that. I had shed the weight that kept my self-esteem in the dirt. I had abandoned my family to rid myself of the association with filth and mental illness. I had come here to start anew. To turn my life around.

The second I realized I had unknowingly moved in across the hall from my high school enemy, I thought that was all over. But I leveraged Caleb Ryan's guilt to get me closer to Peter. And now here we are.

Peter just left my apartment, knowing I need rest from my massive hangover. I haven't made it back to bed yet, though. I'm still standing in my kitchen, staring at all of the bags of greasy fast food he brought me, not really sure how I feel about the whole situation.

I was elated when he actually proposed that we start dating exclusively, something that I'm told Peter Burgett does not do. He's a manwhore, from what Caleb says. Will I really be alright putting my heart in his hands?

McDonalds. Taco Bell. Panda Express. Panera Bread.

These bags of fast food prove that Peter knows nothing about me. I can't eat any of this. Am not supposed to eat any of this.

I haven't touched fast food in so long because it's a large part of why I gained so much weight in the past. My mother hated to cook. And there were so many times when it was just easier for my father to grab us dinner from a drive-through after working a sixteen-hour shift.

As I stare at the bags, I remember all the nights spent sitting on the sofa in the living room between my two sisters, munching away on our delicious McDonalds french fries. Mindlessly consuming while we watched something pointless on television, the trash and squalor piled up around us. When we were done eating, we would go to take our trash to the trashcan in the kitchen, but it was usually full. The empty bags and containers would end up on the kitchen counter with all the rest from the week, adding to the mess.

It wasn't that we didn't have trash service. My sisters and I were supposed to rotate the chore of taking out the trash. But laziness breeds laziness, and so does bad parenting. They would skip their days, and neither of my parents would say anything about it. When it came to be my turn, there would be so much trash piled up that I'd have to make several trips. Eventually, I just said fuck it. Complaining to them didn't get my sisters to do their chores. Telling my parents to reprimand them didn't do it either. Fairness wasn't a word that was known in my house. And eventually, I came to the conclusion that if you can't beat them, join them.

In hindsight, we all contributed to our horrible living conditions. I was no less guilty than anyone else in the house, except for my mother. We were all less guilty than her. She was a mega-hoarder, constantly bringing things into the house but refusing to get rid of anything. Every time my father got paid she would take us garage sale and thrift store shopping, but not for clothes or anything that we actually needed. She'd buy random junk that we never even used. Like a microwave hard-boiled egg cooker. Or some broken wind chimes that she insisted she could fix. If the price was low, she'd buy it. And then it would end up added to the piles of crap at home, becoming a part of the collective scenery and filth. A landfill of trash and things forgotten.

It's odd how looking at a fast food bag can bring back all of that. The memories.

These days, I try to stay away from fast food unless I'm just so depressed that I don't give a shit anymore. Kind of like when I ate pizza the other day with Caleb after hearing that Peter didn't care about me.

But Peter does care about me. He cares about me enough that he asked me to be his girlfriend. Which means that...Was Caleb lying about what Peter had said to him?

There's a knock on my apartment door. This time, I know it's Caleb having come from the store to bring me something with electrolytes in it. It's been long enough.

I open the door to him, and he steps past me with a bag in hand, setting it on the kitchen counter before giving pause to look at the myriad of fast food with a puzzled expression.

He points to the bags. "How long has this been sitting here?"

I fold my arms over my chest, trying not to glare at him. "Were you lying to me about Peter?"

He juts his head back. "What do you mean?"

"About him saying he felt nothing for me."

Caleb arches a brow. "Why would I lie about that?"

"I don't know. You tell me." I lean against the counter, staring at him expectantly. Surely, it will dawn on him what I'm getting at, and he'll cave soon.

"Why are you being so hostile towards me all of a sudden? I just brought you Gatorade." His hand skims over the bag, making it rustle. "And SmartWater, in case you don't like Gatorade. And Pedialyte, because I've heard that it's good for hangovers but I haven't tried it yet."

The anger in me falters. Why would he lie to me...unless he was just sick of hearing me obsess over Peter? Maybe he just wanted an end to it all.

"Did Peter really say that he felt nothing for me?" I give him one last chance to confess.

Caleb stands tall, taking a defensive stance. "Yes, he really said that. Why? Did something happen last night?"

"A lot happened last night. He didn't tell you?"

"He just told me that you guys are okay now."

"More than okay." I hold my head up high, proudly.

"More than okay?" he parrots.

"We're a couple now," I announce.

Caleb's eyes go wide, and his mouth falls agape. "A couple."

I could not feel more smug about the shock on his face if I tried. "Yes. He came by to bring me food and ask me out."

"Like ask you out on a date?" The skepticism is plain in his voice, and it makes me scowl.

"No, idiot. He asked me to be his girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" He blinks a few times before staring past me as if he's never heard the word before and is trying to decipher the meaning.

"Is that so unbelievable?" I push his shoulder to bring him back to me.

"I...don't know," he hesitates. "For as long as I've known Peter, he's never had a girlfriend."

"Well, now he does." I huff. "Just be happy for me, okay."

Caleb shakes whatever he's thinking away before returning his attention to me. "I am happy for you. But I'm also confused."

"Confused because of what he told you?"

"Yes. Because of that. So many things he's told me. It just doesn't make sense."

"Well, it's the reality of the situation, so you better get used to it." I smile.

"I should let you get some rest." He walks past me abruptly to leave.

"Alright." I follow him to the door to let him out, feeling odd about the way the conversation ended.

He disappears without another word, and I return to the kitchen to look at my offerings. Four bags of fast food and three beverages.

It feels nice to be taken care of. To have an amazing boyfriend and awesome best friend who are willing to make sure I have everything I need.

Ew. Did I just think of Caleb as my best friend?

I guess I did. Whether I'd like to admit it to myself or not, he's the only friend I have here in San Antonio. And I certainly can't deny that we're friends any longer. So if he's my only friend, I guess that also means that he's my best friend.