Jackson was avoiding me.

It might've just been a coincidence that whenever no one else was home, he was nowhere to be found.

But deep down, I knew it wasn't a coincidence.

Jackson was a coward.

That night on the rooftop felt dangerously close to flirting — he even vaguely told me something about his mom. And now everything was back to normal.

Except it wasn't.

If everything was back to normal, I wouldn't be wondering what I did wrong for him to ignore me.

I wouldn't be wondering where the hell he was, and what he was doing.

I wouldn't be wishing for him to talk to me.

Thanksgiving was right around the corner, and I was dreading it for obvious reasons.

It didn't help that Mom loved to host, which meant no showing up late when the leftovers were sparse.

The idea of someone knowing about my eating habits was growing on me. To have someone to talk to in times like this. To have someone to lean on when the pressure of meeting normal standards was too much.

I can't believe I thought that person could be Jackson — only for a second, but it crossed my mind.

And I felt like a freaking idiot now, because he was back to proving he didn't care.

I was home alone, finishing up my homework in the kitchen, when my stomach started cramping.

I tapped my phone screen to see it was already past eight and sighed, dropping my pencil on my notebook.

Everyone's work schedules had been working in my favor all week; I rarely had to be around anyone during meal times.

It was actually pretty easy to forget to eat when I didn't have to do it in front of anybody. I was so used to the empty feeling, sometimes I didn't even notice it.

I ate a biscuit and eggs this morning, though. Or no, that might've been yesterday morning.

Have I eaten anything since then?

The kitchen went a little out of focus when I stepped away from the barstool, and it kinda felt like I was tilting, but I'm pretty sure I was standing straight.

Then gravity proved me wrong and I stumbled into the stool, making it screech against the tile, but I heard it through ear muffs I didn't know I was wearing.

I gripped the countertop to steady myself and groaned, resting my head on the cold surface.

I'd never been on the verge of passing out before; the idea freaked me out.

What if someone came home and found me on the floor?

I'd be screwed.

So I stayed there, waiting for the tv static in my head to fade enough for me to make it to the fridge.

But when it did, the cramping in my stomach got stronger, so I walked over to the fridge with my back hunched awkwardly.

I opened the door before sitting on the ground in front of it, grabbing the first thing I could reach — a container with leftover pizza.

At this point, I didn't care if it was unhealthy, I just needed something.

Then I sighed in content after taking a bite of the cold slice.

I always liked cold pizza. My family called me gross because of it, but I didn't care then, and I definitely didn't care now — I just wanted more.

Before I knew it, the container was empty and I snapped back to reality, standing up quickly.

"No, no, no," I shook my head, tossing the container in the sink. "I didn't just do that — I did not just do that."

I numbly made my way upstairs and went straight to the bathroom, forcing myself to look in the mirror.

A whimper left my lips when I noticed sauce on the corner of my mouth, so I shakily turned on the faucet and vigorously scrubbed my face.

After I shut the water off, I looked in the mirror again, glancing at the toilet behind me.

No, I hate throwing up. I sure as hell can't do it on purpose.

I groaned and rubbed my hoodie sleeves down my face, then made my way over to the scale.

I'd been avoiding it for days now, and I knew I'd regret it, but tapped the cold metal with my foot anyway, waiting for the little red zero to pop up.

I blew out my breath and stepped on — like air in my lungs would actually make a difference or something.

The numbers flashed at me and I choked, taking a step back with my eyes glued to the scale until it turned off.

I'm wearing a hoodie, shirt, bra, sweatpants, and thick socks.

That has to add a little bit. It has to.

My vision blurred as I stepped out of the bathroom, and I felt a warm tear slid down my face, with more quickly following.

"Dammit," I cried, squeezing my eyes shut as I sat on my bed.

My phone dinged from somewhere on the bed after a while, so I sniffled and rubbed my eyes before looking for it.

Unknown: hey! It's Jesse from Halloween, I got your number from your bro. A couple of us are at Sam's wanna come by?

Unknown: Darius won't be here all night if that influences your decision lol

So everyone knows about that? Awesome.

Me: I'd love to but I don't have a car lol

Jesse: I can come pick you up!

After going back and forth with myself, I decided it might be good for me to get my mind off my current predicament, and sent her my address.

She was quick to tell me she'd be here in twenty minutes, so I rushed to get myself together.

I slipped on a pair of dark boyfriend jeans, an oversized white tee shirt, and a thick green and grey flannel.

I didn't really have a style anymore, unless there's a style called anything that hides my figure.

Ironic how I went from hiding my fat, to trying to hide how much I've lost.

No matter what, all I do is hide.

Jesse texted me when she pulled up, so I slipped on my converse, and grabbed her fiancé's freshly washed jacket before going out to her car.

"So who's over there?" I asked as she pulled out of my neighborhood.

"Jody, Sam, um...Jake, and Noah — I just didn't feel like being the only girl, so,"  she shrugged, never looking away from the road.

And she decided to text me?

"Well, I didn't feel like being home alone on a Friday night, so," I shrugged back before cringing inwardly.

I might as well have socially awkward hermit written on my freaking forehead.

Soon Jesse pulled into the familiar cove, and I instantly regretted telling her I'd come.

Jackson's truck was parked next to the mailbox.

He didn't know who Jesse was when I mentioned her at the diner, so I should've known she didn't know him either.

But I didn't think about that because I'm an idiot.

"Actually, can you take me back? I just, um, remembered I have a big test to study for," I rambled as she turned off the car.

"But it's Friday night," she reminded me while opening her door. "You have all weekend — let's go!"

I sighed and grudgingly followed her toward the house, not sure what to prepare myself for.

When we walked through the door, my eyes landed on the group of guys gathered in the kitchen, and I froze.

Of all the Noah's in the world, the last one I expected Jesse to be talking about was Noah from the mall — standing next to Jackson.

Jody noticed us first and gave us a lazy smile, making the rest of the guys turn their attention.

"Keychain girl?" Noah piped up, grinning ear to ear.

Jackson whipped his head toward Noah before giving me a confused look.

"Keychain girl?" Jesse echoed, and I turned to see she had an equally confused expression.

"I can't find my name on keychains," I offered vaguely with a shrug, and she laughed before walking toward the kitchen, presumably expecting me to follow.

I glanced at the guys to see Jackson frowning at me, and Noah still smiling, then sighed and followed Jesse.

I must've been a murderer in a past life or something.

It is kinda refreshing for Jackson to be the confused one, though.

"So, you two know each other," Jackson spoke up when I stopped in front of them, but his tone made it difficult to figure out if it was a question or statement.

"Yeah," Noah said at the same time I blurted out, "Not really."

"You guys know each other?" Noah asked, gesturing between Jackson and I.

"Yeah, for years," Jackson said nonchalantly, shoving his hands in his pockets, but the look he was giving Noah almost seemed threatening, and I squinted at him questioningly.

His black waves were messily pushed up off his forehead, like he'd been running his hands through them too much. His brows were pulled downward as his dark eyes narrowed at Noah.

He's ignored me all week again, and now he's...what is he doing?

Whatever it was, I knew I shouldn't like it, but it was getting difficult to pretend I didn't.

Even though he was the youngest guy in the room, Jackson was still the most intimidating — which I couldn't deny was pretty freaking hot.

"You know what, babe?" Jesse piped up, hugging her arms loosely around Jody's neck. "I changed my mind, I think I do wanna smoke. It'll be fun, right Brylee?"

Fun? Read the freaking room, Jesse.

"We were just about to light one up, if you ladies wanna join," Noah said, breaking whatever telepathic conversation they were having to smile at me.

He wasn't as cute as I remembered him being. His smile was a little too extreme. His long wavy hair that I thought was nice at first, now seemed dry and stringy. His green eyes were bright, but they lacked a certain depth to draw me in.

"Um," I hesitated, rubbing my flannel sleeve under my chin.

"Yeah, Brylee," Jackson said with a sarcastic smile, rocking back on his heels. "It'll be fun."