The Warrior's Gamble

Chapter 2

Caitlin

2 Years Ago

Caitlin 18, Tristan 21

"I don't want to panic you..." Nessa says as we stand in front of my bedroom mirror.

I make a face, "What?" I wince.

Nessa bites her lip thoughtfully, "There have been rumors."

I swallow and turn to my best friend.

"Since your 18th birthday. A lot of people...well, they're calling you... 'the hottest piece of ass in Chicago,' or 'the hottest girl in Chicago.'"

I feel like I'm about to throw up. Piece of ass?

I've never even kissed a boy before.

"Who?" I snap angrily.

Nessa shrugs, "You know how these guys are. They're scum."

I look in the mirror, over-analyzing my body, which I've always been trained to be hyper-aware of. Suddenly, a new sort of repulsion flows through me. My parents are hosting their annual late summer clam bake for all the made men and their families. It's also a pool party. And I realize I am showing way too much skin. I huff and head to my dresser, grabbing a modest one piece and change out of my bikini.

Hottest piece of ass?

Who comes up with this stuff?

It must be a joke. A cruel prank. Maybe they're making fun of my body. It certainly wouldn't be the first time. I feel bile threatening to rise.

"That's so insulting!" I groan. "And it doesn't even make sense!"

"Men want what they can't have," Nessa shrugs, splashing herself with my perfume, fully confident in her skimpy black bikini.

I put on my grandma bathing suit and adjust my ponytail.

Nessa gives me a look, frowning, "Why did you change?"

"Um, I don't want people looking at me!" I grumble, grabbing a dress coverup that goes past my knees. "I don't even want to go down there."

"What has gotten into you?" Nessa asks. "You should embrace this! Girls would kill to get this kind of attention."

I laugh bitterly. "My entire life, people made fun of me for being fat. And now I'm BARELY legal and a bunch of gross dudes are calling me a hot piece of ass. Do my parents know about this?"

Nessa chuckles. "I highly doubt it..."

"Who told you?" I ask curiously.

Nessa shrugs, "Tristan mentioned it, I think."

I swallow. Tristan was talking about me?

Tristan knows about me being called...whatever this is?

I never had particularly good self-esteem. But something had dramatically shifted the last two years. Men approached me more. Mom was prancing me around town more. The training sessions in the gym and the terrible diet food had made me slim down. Not to mention the occasional weak moments of me vomiting up my meals.

I was better now, though.

I look in the mirror and suck in the slight pudge of my stomach that still remains. Hardly noticeable to anyone but me.