Sweet Fall

  Lexi’s head turned in my direction in interest. “None of them were your girlfriend?”

  I shrugged and my thumb ran up and down her cheek. “I suppose Louisa Tripodi was my girlfriend, for about a week. We lived three trailers down from each other our whole lives. Her folks were Sicilian immigrants like my dad.”

  “And what happened?”

  “Got high and ended up fuckin’ on her bathroom floor. I lost my virginity that night. Louisa lost hers long before then.”

  “How old were you?”

  This time it was my turn to be embarrassed. “Thirteen.”

  Lexi’s eyes widened. “And what happened to her? This Louisa… Louisa…”

  “Tripodi,” I finished.

  “Yeah, Louisa Tripodi.”

  “OD’d three years ago. Heroin.”

  Lexi jerked and frowned. “Austin, how horrible.”

  I shrugged. “Just another victim of Westside Heights,” I said wryly.

  Lexi boldly leaned forward until her mouth hovered above my mine. “And the other two girls?”

  “One-night stands. Didn’t know the chicks. They knew I played for the Tide. We fucked. They left. And that is my entire sexual history.”

  “But look at you,” Lexi said and gestured to my shirtless chest. “You’re perfect. You could have anyone you want.”

  I laughed. “Perfect is relative, Pix. Beauty is relative.” The twist of her mouth told me she didn’t believe me.

  “You like all the tattoos I got?” I asked, and she smiled.

  “Yeah. I love them,” she confessed and stared deeply in awe at the dove and fleur-de-lys on my neck.

  “But not everyone does,” I confessed to her, and I gained her attention once more.

  Taking her finger again, I ran it across the bullet wound scar on my arm. “Do my scars repulse you?”

  Lexi started at that and shook her head profusely. “No! Why would the scars repulse me? They’re not who you are. They’re from your past. They don’t bother me at all. It tells the story of your life.”

  I smirked at her and moved my hands to hold her arms. Lexi’s breath paused and she frantically looked down, arms tensing as she breathed through my touch.

  “Just like your weight’s no concern to me. You’re you because you’re you. I don’t give a shit about weight or height. I look at true people. Real people. You’re real, Pix. You got that shit in spades.”

  Lexi’s blank face made me think I’d lost her to her mind again, but with a shake of her head, she came back to me quicker than before. And before I knew it, her hands had planted on my cheeks and her lips crashed down to mine. Instinctively, my hands stroked down her arms, and I kept mind to avoid her entire back.

  Lexi got more into it. Her small tits pressed against my chest and her leg brushed up against my cock. At the contact, I groaned. Lexi snapped back her head. “You okay?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” I said through gritted teeth. “Just so fuckin’ turned on I can’t see straight.”

  “Oh,” Lexi said and looked down. When she noticed me adjusting my jeans, she blushed, averted her eyes, and repeated an exaggerated, “Oh!”

  Laughing, I pulled her down to face me and, this time, she reached for my hand. “Thank you, Austin,” she whispered minutes later.

  “What for?” I asked, hearing the comforting sound of an owl hooting outside the window.

  Shrugging, she replied, “For being a fellow freak, I suppose.” Her fingers tightened around mine. “For not making me feel like a failure. Like an inexperienced fool.”

  “You’re not a failure, Pix, nor a fool. If anything, you’re a damn hero. You survived something that could’ve killed you.”

  “But that’s it, Austin. Someday it still could. I… I’ve found things harder lately. I feel I’m falling again. The inner voice, the anorexia… it’s trying to tear down my walls.” Lexi huffed and looked at me with wide eyes. “That’s the first time I’ve admitted that to anyone… maybe even to myself.”

  I pushed a wayward strand of hair from her face and said, “This disease won’t get the better of you, Pix. I won’t let it.”

  Lexi’s black eyebrows rose and she asked, “And how will you ensure that?”

  Shrugging, I said, “I just figure I’ll never let you outta my sight for a while.”

  Giggling, Lexi replied, “Careful, Carillo, that’s sounding scarily like a declaration of commitment.”

  “Call it what you like, Pix. All I know is I like you. And I wanna see you more. I’m a Heighter from the boonies with a rap sheet—”

  “And I’m an emo-anorexic virgin that can’t be touched,” she finished off.

  “Match made in heaven, huh?” I said with a wink.

  “What could possibly go wrong?” Lexi joked.

  Although it was a joke, the two of us contemplated that question in silence. Truth was a shit ton could go wrong down this road. She could relapse; the Heighters could majorly fuck with me and ruin my dreams. Hell, Axel, my blood, would damn near murder me if he knew I was growing close to Pix, the only chick who could bring down the Heighter ownership of campus turf.

  But right now, I didn’t wanna think about what could go wrong for us, didn’t wanna think of my older brother, Mamma, or Levi. I just wanted to sleep next to the little dark pixie and forget all our problems for tonight.

  Yawning, Lexi settled farther into the mattress, and I watched as she closed her eyes.

  With our fingers still entwined, I stared at her beautiful face and whispered, “Why the war paint, Pix?”

  Lexi sucked in a deep breath and exhaled it real slow. Her eyes never opened, but a single tear rolled slowly from under those long black lashes and her hand in mine clenched tight. “Because I can’t stand the girl underneath,” she whispered back.

  My heart just about missed a beat at her confession, and I brought her hand to my mouth, kissing at the cold skin.

  “Why the tattoos?” Lexi asked, and my eyes snapped up to hers. Turquoise irises were boring into mine, so I said, “Because I can’t bear seeing the scars of my past.”

  Lexi’s eyes filled with water and another understanding tear tumbled down her cheek. Leaning forward, I kissed the salty drop away.

  And that’s how we fell.

  Fell into sleep.

  Fell into trust…

  Fell for each other.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lexi

  Dear Daisy,

  Weight: 92lbs

  Calories: 1200

  Last night was the most surreal moment of my life.

  I slept all night next to a guy.

  Yes, I was fully clothed.

  Yes, my makeup was still intact.

  But it was progress. I actually made some progress.

  And he kissed me. Austin Carillo, the Italian boy from the wrong side of the tracks, kissed me. And it was magical. He made me feel safe and, for one glorious night, he made me feel beautiful.

  But the biggest thing of all, Austin managed to silence the voice, to steal away its taunts and, in the process, I think he may have just stolen my heart.

  “And the cheerleading, Lexi? How is that affecting your confidence?”

  I sat gazing out Dr. Lund’s window at the browning fall leaves dancing in the light breeze as he scribbled on his clipboard—his notes on my recovery.

  The incessant scratching of his pencil on the pad of paper was grating on my nerves—scratch, scratch, scratch—branded into my brain.

  “The cheerleading is going well, Dr. Lund. It’s my passion. It has always been my passion. When I dance, I feel free.”

  “You are dancing on a sharp-edged sword, Lexi. You know it was your trigger back in high school. What if the same thing happens again? What if another boy you like calls you fat in your uniform? Will you be able to handle that kind of criticism? Are you strong enough to handle any jibes directed your way?”

  “Yes,” I said sternly, but my stomach rolled in guilt. It w
as already happening. Not taunts from football players, but from the voice inside.

  Come back to me, Lexington. If you come back, if you lose more pounds, you will never fear cheerleading again. You will never have to lie to the squad, like you know you are about to do. You know the cheerleading is beginning to take its toll.

  Breathing through the voice’s words, I tried to focus on Dr. Lund’s mundane questions.

  “And your personal life? How is that going?” He continued.

  “Fine,” I replied and began picking at the chipped black nail polish on my fingernails.

  “Any boyfriends? Have you managed to make yourself vulnerable to anyone yet, or is that still an area you are unable to explore?”

  My eyes widened in embarrassment and set on Dr. Lund. He sat back, surprised, his dark eyebrows raised.

  “That was an interesting reaction, Lexi. Would you care to talk about why that question brought out such a strong response?”

  Lowering both hands, I gripped the wooden arms of the chair. “I’ve… I’ve met someone,” I confided as I felt the blush surge over my face.

  “And when was this, Lexi?”

  “A couple of months ago.”

  Dr. Lund’s eyebrows arched once more. “A couple of months ago?”

  I nodded my head and watched the disapproval wash across his face. “We have had no less than six sessions within the last eight weeks, and you mention this only now? This makes me worry, Lexi. What are you hiding about this boy?”

  I averted my gaze out the window and felt my heart squeeze as I watched two children playing in the play area outside, the little girl trying to pin down the little boy and kiss him. She was brimming with confidence.

  I prayed that same little blond girl didn’t grow up to be insecure. That she didn’t count calories religiously before putting a spoonful of food in her mouth, check the nutritional information on packages for the carbs, the sugars, the saturated fat. Didn’t hide her true beauty because she couldn’t stand the sight of her natural face. Didn’t freak out when that same little boy who is showing her so much affection as a six-year-old grows up and wants to kiss her some more… Didn’t grow up to let a throwaway comment from that boy she liked rob her of her childhood and shred her self-esteem.

  “Lexi, keep your focus,” Dr. Lund said strictly as he glanced out the window at what had captured my attention.

  Rubbing my hands down my face, I replied, “We… had a… bumpy start. He has… issues too. But lately, things have become more serious between us. I think? I’m not sure. We haven’t really talked about what we are to each other yet. I’ve never had a boyfriend, or… well, whatever we are to one another, before, so I never said anything about it to you. I’m still trying to understand it all myself.”

  Since returning from Tennessee, I had met up with Austin every night. Every single night. His momma had just been discharged from hospital, but while she was still here, Austin would visit Chiara and I would have my sessions. Then we would spend a few hours in our garden, holding hands and innocently kissing under the stars.

  Austin knew where he could touch me now. We’d found that my collarbone too was a trigger, but Austin simply maneuvered around my problem areas, never making me feel shame or embarrassment about my disorder.

  Dr. Lund leaned forward and placed his clipboard on the table beside him, his hands in a steeple as his elbows rested on his knees. “And are you comfortable around him, Lexi?”

  Shifting uncomfortably on the seat, I nodded my head. “I am. We’ve done nothing too far, of course. But we’ve kissed some… touched some…”

  “And?” Dr. Lund pushed, seeming surprised by how forthcoming I was being.

  “It was… difficult at first, you know, because of my triggers, but I told him about my past, and he respects my boundaries. It’s getting easier with him. Day by day, he’s bringing down my walls.”

  Dr. Lund suddenly straightened in his seat and I frowned.

  “What?” I asked in response to his peculiar reaction.

  Dr. Lund regarded me strangely before he asked, “You told him about your past?”

  Nodding my head slowly, I answered, “Yes.”

  A slow grin spread across Dr. Lund’s face. Dr. Lund had many expressions: stern, concerned, intrigued, but never overtly impressed.

  “Lexi, we have been having these sessions for years. In that time, the people who have knowledge of your disorder, the people you have told about your disorder, I can count on one hand: your daddy, momma, Daisy, of course, and me. You have not told your best friends at school, Molly, Cass, and Ally, because…?” Dr. Lund trailed off and waited for me to answer.

  Playing with the edge of the sleeve on my shirt, I confessed, “Because I didn’t want them to see me as weak. I didn’t want them to see me as some victim they had to walk on eggshells around. I wanted to go to college and be someone else other than Lexington Hart, anorexic.”

  Dr. Lund nodded thoughtfully, like only psychiatrists can. Bringing his steepled-hands to his lips, he asked. “But you told this boy, after only knowing him a couple months. What makes him so different from your friends?”

  Shrugging, I kept my focus down. I didn’t want to tell Dr. Lund that I felt a spiritual connection to Austin. I didn’t want to tell Dr. Lund that, sometimes, someone could stumble unannounced into the train wreck that is your life and begin to pull you out of the heavy rubble weighing down on your chest. I didn’t want to share that Austin knew hardship too. That although our respective issues were poles apart in nature, we were kindred spirits in the fight to not let these issues destroy us as people.

  Austin was bringing color into my gray scale life.

  He was precious to me.

  He was my secret, another one I wasn’t willing to share.

  “Lexi, you do not have to tell me about him straightaway—it’s a very new stage in your recovery—but I would like you to consider what made this gentleman different from anyone else. I am sure you understand the gravity of your confession to him, and that pleases me.” Dr. Lund sat back in his seat, and I slowly lifted my gaze to meet his. Dr. Lund’s happy expression had turned into one of real concern. “But it worries me too. You’ve put your trust in someone, opened up to someone after years of hiding away behind the dark makeup and clothes.”

  “Then what concerns you? I thought you said it was progression?” I asked quietly.

  “That this could go one of two ways.”

  “I don’t understand?”

  “Lexi, this boy could bring you out of your shell, help you with your insecurities, give you a real sense of worth, one that is not measured by a scale. Or he could build you up only to cut you down, and you could find yourself in a darker place than you were only a few short years ago. You have to decide if he is worth the risk.”

  I did consider what Dr. Lund was saying, but frankly, over the last few weeks, I’d been falling for Austin so hard that I couldn’t bear the thought of not speaking to him. Austin was the one person I could be my complete self with. There was no fakery, no acting around him; it was just me and him.

  Austin is worth the risk.

  “Take some time, Lexi. Think it through, and we can discuss it when you are ready.”

  Dr. Lund scribbled the last few notes on his clipboard and shut it with a slam. “Time’s up.”

  Standing, I moved to walk out of the room, when Dr. Lund said, “Oh and, Lexi, one more thing. If I keep seeing evidence of weight loss, I will be forced to submit you for an assessment. One or two pounds may be understandable with the amount of exercise you are doing of late. But any more than that and it will be a red flag that you are falling back into old habits.”

  I glared at Dr. Lund coldly and, swiftly exiting his room, made my way to the bathroom across the hall. My heart was slamming in my chest.

  Moving to the row of sinks, I forced myself to look at my reflection in the mirror.

  I had lost weight.

  I now stood at ninety-two pounds.


  More than Dr. Lund suspected.

  A slow grin began spreading on my face. Lifting my fingers, they brushed over my body. My collarbone was becoming more pronounced, just how I liked. My cheeks were defining, sallow and severe in shape, and lifting my long, loose dress and ignoring the instant repulsion at seeing the layers of fat on my dimpled thighs, I saw that the gap between my thighs was increasing. It was slight, but it was there. The thigh gap was everything to me—what I measured my weight loss by. It was the proof of triumph over will.

  Yet it wasn’t enough. There was still too much fat. My jaw clenched and my hands fisted at my sides.

  There is too much fat, Lexington. You are right. You have done well thus far, but you can do so much better. You know you can. You have lost some weight, granted, but let us keep striving for more. Let us keep striving for perfection.

  Reaching to grip the edge of the sink, I almost felt entranced by the voice, but as I pictured the task ahead of me, the weeks I would have to cut out food in secret, take on more exercise than I already was, Austin’s face flitted into my mind… and suddenly, the voice’s persuasive words were silenced.

  As I glanced up at the mirror, at the girl with the painted face, the girl wearing a mask. I pushed hard to purge myself of my doubts as I recited, You are beautiful, Lexi. You are perfect just the way you are.

  I repeated Dr. Lund’s mantra over and over until a pit formed in my stomach. I wanted to be stronger. I wanted to be stronger for Austin. But the mantra wasn’t working, and all I could think of was my back and how many ribs I could count.

  I couldn’t get that thought out of my head. It was unrelenting as it whirled around my mind.

  Warring with my best intentions, I finally ripped up my dress and began the counting of my ribs on my back as though it was rote.

  One, two three, four, five, six, seven… seven, seven, seven…

  Seven. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. I should be able to count ten. There should be ten ribs, clearly defined and free of fat, that I could count.