What You're Not | ✔

28. Buried At The Bottom

I let out a yawn as I entered the kitchen. My feet were sore dancing, a headache lingered from the mixture of loud music and strobe lights, and there was glitter in my hair. I don't even know where the glitter came from.

"You got in late last night." Mom sat at the table, sipping on her coffee and scrolling through her phone.

It was almost two a.m. when Chelsea dropped me off. The club closed at one, but we stopped at a twenty-four hour diner for food. Dancing into the night could really work up an appetite.

Staying out past curfew wasn't the best idea, I was really testing Mom's patience, but I wasn't ready to go home and be alone with my thoughts. 

I grabbed a pack of strawberry pop-tarts from the pantry and slipped the pastries into the toaster.

"I can't tell if you're mad or not," I said, eyeing her as I dusted crumbs from my hands.

"I'm not mad," she laughed, looking up at me. "It wasn't school night and you didn't come home wasted. Next time just send a text."

"Okay," I agreed, thankful she didn't make it into a big deal.

Going into the fridge I grab the milk and then got a cup from the cabinet, filling it. I could feel Mom watching my every move.

"What?" I asked, placing the milk back in the fridge.

"I've been waiting for you to bring it up, but since that's not happening any time soon... how was your meeting with Victoria?"

Mom had been very vocal about me taking advantage of the opportunity with Victoria. Which was why I didn't want to tell her that the meeting crashed and burned.

"It was bad," I told her. She frowned as I rested my elbows on the island and propped my chin up in my palms. "She was probably going to offer me a chance to work with Shanelle Walker before I ran out."

Mom was sympathetic, coming over and rubbing my back the way she did whenever I was sick or had a bad day. "What happened?"

A lot. I thought as I retrieved my warm Pop-Tarts from the toaster. How could I sum up that train wreck of a night without making her worry? Between Miles almost kissing me, Vivian trying to use Jerrell against me and the upcoming fashion show, I already had so much to worry about.

So I gave her answer that was as close to the truth as I wanted get, "It's just bad timing."

"Cold feet?" she guessed.

"More like cold everything," I admitted.

My whole Westbrook experience was like I'd been thrown into cold water. I was waiting for my body to get used to temperature, but it was like as soon as I did a new wave of ice cold water hit me.

I was ready to get out and quit.

"Doing new things, getting out of your comfort zone, its scary," she offered. "But it's rewarding. You can't keep dodging opportunities because you're nervous. You have to do what scares you."

Like always, she was right. I knew I couldn't keep running away from things. But running was so much easier.

"You're coming to The Oak tonight, right?" Mom asked after a moment of silence.

"Of course," I said, taking a sip of my milk.

"Good." She smiled, putting her coffee cup in the sink. "I'm going to need a friendly face in the crowd to make through this performance."

I admired her bravery. "How come you did pass down any of your fearlessness?"

"It's in you somewhere," she told me. "You just got to dig deep to find it."