“Yeah, I’m good,” I said through gritted teeth. “Just so f**kin’ 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 f**k 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 was 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.