Kara
The fine china from our room service, the decadent spread of cheese, and the wine and fruit should technically comfort me, but…
They don’t.
I’m wearing a red satin silk robe that brushes smoothly against my skin. I’m lying in an insanely comfortable bed, sitting atop a cloud of fluffy pillows. The sheets are high-end thread count and feel good on the bare parts of my body.
I’m in in our lavish hotel suite in Tokyo. Everything about this hotel and the penthouse suite we’re staying in is covered with luxury, sweeping across the board.
In reality, I should be grateful.
Instead, I’m fucking falling apart.
I’m fully aware of the fact that I’m behaving like a spoiled brat or a complete bitch, but inside, I feel like I’m rotting. I’m not used to all this attention and being in the spotlight all the time.
And that fucking comment. That fucking photographer shoving his fucking camera to my face and calling me fat.
That took the cake—which, incidentally, is exactly what I want right now.
As much fucking cake as this body can hold. Death by red velvet. That’s what one shitty comment has reduced me to now.
I want to quit the pageant. In fact, I’m dead set on it. I feel like my mind is already made up and nothing the guys can tell me is going to sway me or steer my mental direction.
I fold my arms stubbornly across my chest. Chase has just returned from talking to the police and giving them a statement.
“What did they say?” I ask as he walks up to me and plants a tender kiss on my forehead in greeting.
“The photographer won’t be filing any charges,” he says assertively. “But he’ll be needing some extensive dental work.”
I blow out a relieved puff of air. “Thank God,” I mumble under my breath. “Thank you for protecting me.” I glance up at him with pitiful, tear-filled eyes.
“Hey…” he whispers softly. “Don’t worry about any of this. None of it’s your fuckin’ fault. If you’re blaming yourself, stop.”
I scoff and shake my head as the tears roll down my cheeks, salty and bitter. Chase leans in to brush them off, wiping them away with one gentle stroke of his thumb against my skin.
When his hand is close to my face, it doesn’t take me long to realize that his knuckles are swollen and black, an indication of bruising. The flesh of one knuckle is even bloody and torn where he caught one of the bastard’s gnarly front teeth in it.
He might be trying to reassure me that I’m not to blame for this little fiasco, but inside, my head is screaming.
Of course I feel fucking guilty. The guys are always stepping in front of me, defiantly protecting me no matter the costs or the repercussions that will unfold…but we’ll all suffer for those consequences one way or another.
We only just got here, and I’m ready to go home.
I’m exhausted. I’m a wreck. This isn’t who I am, and I’m done pretending that it is.
I’m not a model anymore. I’m not a celebrity. And I’m not Miss Sexy Anything—let alone Miss Sexy USA or Miss Sexy Universe.
It was nice, and I reveled in it at first, but now it’s consuming me with fatigue—and honestly, I just don’t want to deal with it anymore.
“I feel like shit.” I heave a dramatic sigh, but it still does nothing to relieve the heavy weight of the world that’s sitting on top of my shoulders.
“Talk to me, Kara. Tell me what’s wrong.” Chase’s eyebrows furrow with concern.
He and Eric lean on the edge of the bed, sitting next to me. Their expressions are so genuine with worry that it pushes me into a fresh batch of tears.
I choke them back and glance up at the ceiling. “I just can’t help but think that none of this would have happened if it weren’t for me.”
“Not fucking true.” Eric strokes my arm.
“It is, though. I’m the one who went flaunting our relationship around on national television like that…” I trail off in a shaky voice, then add the real kicker. “I’m the one who let herself get so fucking fat.”
“You’re not fat, Kara. And even if you were—who the fuck cares?” Eric says soothingly as he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “You’re so much more than your appearance, babe. Your hot little body might have gotten you into the pageant, but it’s your fucking heart that the world fell in love with.”
Even though I’m wallowing in these destructive emotions, wading through darkness, their tender touch still sends sensual surges of pleasure up my spine.
“You guys are just sprouting off what you think I want to hear.” I remain unconvinced even though they appear sincere and I have no reason to doubt them…ever.
Even as much as I care about them, I’m just not in the mood to listen to their little rant about how I should fuck the press and do what I love.
I feel terrible for the way they’re caught in the middle of this whirlwind of media bullshit when the root of the problem is my fat ass.
“Ugh,” I groan and push back into the covers, burrowing my head into the pillows. “I’m so stupid.”
“Knock it off, Kara. No one’s gonna buy that,” Eric says adamantly. “You’re fucking brilliant, and anyone with half a brain can see that. You want us to shower you in fucking compliments, all you need to do is ask.”
“Fuckin’ hot, too,” Chase says. “Press is just trying to get under your skin.”
“That’s just it, though, isn’t it?” I say, staring at my hands. “Thanks for always trying to cheer me up…but like, fuck. They can see right fucking through me, guys. They know what a fucking faker I am now—I might be fit on the outside, but I’m always going to be the same fat ass who lost her modeling contract on the inside.”
“Kara—” Chase starts.
“No, fucking seriously!” I say, slamming my fist against the bed. “You think any of the other contestants are getting this kind of shit? I’m a fucking heyday for the press, and everyone knows it. I can imagine the fucking headlines now—‘American Fatty Takes Two Cocks At Once!’ It’s not just photographers, either. There were women in that crowd who looked like they wanted to kill me just for being fucking near you. What the fuck was that about?”
“Actually,” Eric begins. “About that, Kara. There’s something we need to tell you. Protein Plus—”
“Fuck Protein Plus,” I state firmly.
“Seriously, Kara,” Chase says. “We need to fucking discuss this with you now, before—”
“Look, guys, I love the shakes, too, and everything, but I’m not really in the fucking mood right now, okay?”
Ignoring them, I decide I want to eat my feelings and barrel through a hefty portion of calories like it’s water.
“I’m ordering room service. Pizza, burgers, fries, the works,” I announce boldly as I pick up my phone to dial downstairs.
“Don’t do that.” Eric rushes to my side and tries to remove the phone from my death grip.
“I’m eating until I pack the pounds back on,” I tell them. “The press wants a fatty—I’ll give them one.”
“That’s fuckin’ stupid, and you know it,” Chase says and gives me a pity glance.
“Well, I’m a fucking idiot, so I guess that makes sense, huh?” I shrug as if I’m unscathed.
“Don’t plummet into this self-destructive bullshit,” Chase says sternly.
“How do you feel when you look in the mirror?” Eric asks me.
I laugh. “What kind of question is that?”
“Just answer me.” His eyes are steel.
I sigh dramatically. “I feel great when I look in the mirror,” I confess. “I feel proud, sexy, muscular, and strong.”
Eric and Chase have fire in their eyes.
“Fucking exactly,” Chase says.
“Nothing that shitbag photographer says is going to change that,” Eric adds.
“Yeah, okay, I know what you’re trying to do,” I quip back. “You said it yourself though…that every now and then I can treat myself to an indulgence. Well, I’m fucking indulging, baby.”
“Not like this,” Eric says. “There’s a time and a place, and your emotional state doesn’t reflect that stability right now.”
“Yeah, well, fuck stability,” I say, fucking determined as ever.
“You’ve worked so fuckin’ hard, Kara,” Chase says. “Don’t throw it all away because of one bad day.”
I plop down on a chair in the room and contemplate whether I should heed their advice or protest by defying them.
I stare at the floor, at my tanned and toned legs. I didn’t come this far to bow out, but I’m angry.
Come here,” Eric says, grabbing my arm. “I know what will fix this once and for all.”
I narrow my eyes…but like, fuck, babes. He’s so fucking sexy when he gets all commanding like this…you’d follow him to the bed, too.
“You want to fucking binge?” Eric says, unbuckling his belt. “We’ll give you something to fucking binge on, then.”
“Low cal,” Chase adds, unbuckling his own belt. “High in protein, too.”
“So tell me, Kara,” Eric says. “Do you fucking want it?”
My eyes slide back and forth across their bodies, thinking about it.
Fuck. They’re hot. They’re way too fucking hot.
I can always have a cheeseburger after, I guess.
I lay back on the bed and feel them moving in on me, undressing themselves as they go.
“Give it to me, then.”