BEATRICE
Stella is waiting outside when I finally step out." “Damn, B,” she whistles, beaming at me. "They're not ready." I smile, but it doesn't reach my eyes. I know Stella is being supportive but she's overplaying my looks. Yes, I've begun to lose weight but I'm still not comfortable in my skin.
As we head out, Pete watches from the living room, beer in hand, eyes narrowed. His stare crawls down my body like grease. “Be home by midnight,” he says like he's the one in charge. “Your mom won't like it if you come back acting grown.”
I don't respond. Just walk out the door, letting it slam behind me. Stella has a curious look on her face. "Beatrice," she says softly," I shake my head, brushing her off. I don't want to talk about Pete.
Outside, the night is cold and humming with promise
