Disarm / Rafe Cameron

11. Sleeping Tiger

Sleeping Tiger
chapter xi
warnings: eating disorders

             
             THE SUMMER CAME faster than Layne could imagine. There was a certain hunger that came with the waves, the salt air, the bicycle bells and the never-ending hours at the marina filling the gaps between her grueling hours at home, spending time with Rafe, and surfing. Tourons started to flood the streets more and more, their toothy grins gripping melting ice cream cones, the obnoxious honorary-kooks that drove brand new Jeeps with the roof and doors off blasting music as they soaked in the OBX sun and smell that Layne had grown to hate. (Or maybe she just had a love-hate relationship with the island at this point.)

As much as she loved summer, she hated pretty much everything else that came with it. The tourists that flooded the surf shop, the people setting up large camps on the beach, the annoying fraternities that rented boats and houses for the summer and reeked of weed of beer. They would cat call her from the docks and stumble off the boat with other touron, probably sorority girls and ask her if she wanted to join them. Sometimes she was tempted to, but got scared after realizing that almost every sweaty, gross frat guy looked too much like Rafe.

Layne's mom had her on a meal plan for the summer ever since she noticed her losing more and more weight. Ever since Rafe had told Layne that he was proud of her for staying slim for him, she had restricted her eating even more. Sometimes she thought that her need to be in control of everything, including what to eat and what not to eat, would stop once they officially started dating, but she noticed that it just got worse. Layne consistently felt the need to give into whatever fucked up mind games Rafe was playing, and her weight was one of them. She thought maybe he felt the need to control her, too—in fact, she knew he did. She knew he liked knowing he had that much power over her. He would eat her food that she didn't finish—he would stop her from eating too much. In that way, he was there for her. Maybe.

Rory told her that she needed to eat more, but it just went through one ear and out the other. Layne wasn't sure why she was so scared of certain foods. Bagels, pasta, pancakes. Maybe it was their color, bland and similar, and why she thought the minute she digested one calorie of it it would make her tip over the scale. There were a lot of maybe's running through her head every bite she took of something, every time she spat it out discreetly in the bathroom. Before she started dating Rafe, she would fill her plate and eat half of it. Now she just played with her food, licked some of it, and pushed it aside for someone else to finish.

Layne loved the summer, but she hated seeing everyone's bodies so openly. It made her self conscious of her pale skin and the bruises that were littered everywhere from nothing in particular. She thought maybe she had developed anemia, but every time she went to the doctors to take blood, nothing ever came back. In fact, anytime she went to the doctors, they ended up finding out that nothing was wrong. Layne consistently thought something was wrong with her.

Ultimately, things had been going good with Rafe ever since the night at his house. Layne had learn to cherish their good patches when they happened, because she knew they weren't going to last long. It was almost like not being able to enjoy the sunshine when you knew a storm was looming overhead. As much as he was being delicate, and tender, she knew there was a sleeping tiger in his chest that would wake up with ferocious anger any minute, any day. He could change like the flip of a switch.

Layne made sure to pack her surf board and gear into her car so that after her shift ended at the marina, she could go catch some waves. She preferred surfing during the evenings instead of the early mornings—although there was a higher chance of their being more teenagers in the water, and the beach was still littered with people who soaked in the sun until late, the waves were always the best. She made it a routine once the weather got unbearably hot to end her days in the water. It was always warmer then, too.