Paint Me Beautiful

fasting when I did or things might've been even worse. Already, I'm thinking about that upcoming family reunion and how I'm going to get out of it. Maybe I can fast until I next meet up with Lianna? It shouldn't be that hard, right? As long as I drink plenty of water and get some vitamins, I think I can make it. After all, people have practiced fasting for centuries and in all walks of life. How is what I'm doing any different?
    I waffle a bit about who I'm going to call. Yes, eventually my parents are going to find out that my car is in impound, but I don't want to deal with that right now. My soul feels like a glass butterfly, like I could be broken in half with a flick of a finger. If they drag me home and yell at me right now, I will shatter. If I call Marlena, I'll get a lecture. If I call Leanne, I'll have to explain why I don't feel like hanging out. If I call Jenn … I decide I don't even want to consider her right now. I've been judged enough for today, thank you very much.
    So I call Emmett Sinclair.
    I call the boy I just met and barely know to come and get me.
    “ Hey Claire!” he answers, voice jovial and if I'm not mistaken, a tad surprised. “How's it going?”
    “ Are you busy?” I ask as I hear him rustling around on the other end of the line.
    “ Depends,” he says coyly. “On what you need me to do?”
    “ My car was towed, can you come and get me?” I feel weird asking, like it isn't even appropriate for me to be calling him. We're strangers, Emmett and I, but somehow it feels like we should be friends. I don't have time for friends. He doesn't hesitate before responding.
    “ Then I'm free,” he laughs. “Where are you?” I give him the address to Lianna's. “Hang tight, beautiful,” he says. “I'll be right there.” And then he hangs up. I walk back over to the agency and sit on the side of the building that has no windows. It would be disastrous for the designer to see me sitting on the curb like a bum.
    I wrap my arms around myself and rock back and forth to keep warm. I hate feeling so cold all the time. Sometimes, when I'm in bed, wrapped in blankets, I still feel like I'm freezing from the inside out, like I'll never be warm again. It's a horrible feeling, one that leaves my chest and belly numb and my legs shaky. Beauty is pain.
    When I see Emmett's car at the stoplight, I stand up and step off the curb, so he doesn't have to park.
    When I climb inside, I see that he's already smiling at me.
    “ Hi Claire,” he says in a voice that's just this side of cheeky.
    “ Hi Emmett,” I respond, and I try not to sound tired. Truthfully, I'm exhausted, physically and mentally. I want to go home, crawl under the covers and sleep away the fat, let it melt from my body. Then I can wake up when it's gone, when I'm skinny and pretty. I try to keep these feelings off my face.
    “ You look nice today,” he tells me, and I try not to scoff. Maybe he likes curvy women? The modeling industry does not.
    “ Thanks,” I say as I lean into the seat and take a deep breathe. “I really appreciate you coming out to get me.”
    “ No problem,” he says, adjusting the red beanie on his head with one hand while he continues to steer with the other. He's got on his Super Smoothie apron. I look at it and then up at him. His chin is stubbly already, but I think I like it best that way. It's cute in a rugged sort of a way.
    “ Were you working?” I ask him, and he shrugs his shoulders. He's got on a red T-shirt that strains over the muscles in his shoulders and leaves little to the imagination.
    “ I decided to quit today,” he tells me with a slight ghost of a smile hovering around his lips. “It's not like I need the reference or the money anymore, not with the job your sister gave me.” I cringe.
    “ Sorry,” I say, but I'm not a hundred percent sure what it is that I'm apologizing for. For essentially making him quit his job to come and get me? For having a meddling sister? I don't know. “I hope I didn't inconvenience you.” Emmett snorts.
    “ Hell no,” he says as he merges onto the highway and takes the very first exit.
    “ Wrong one,” I tell him, but his lips are already twisting up into a naughty grin.
    “ Nuh uh,” he says and I swear he's flirting with me. “You owe me a date.” I lean back against the passenger door and give him a look.
    “ Excuse me?”
    “ You canceled tomorrow's date,” he says as if that makes sense.
    “ And I rescheduled it for