Did You Just Call Me Fat. The Captain's Secret Obession

Why Maya Why

Nora's

The heavy glass doors of the hostel block rattled when I slammed my shoulder into them, but it didn't do a damn thing to wash away the burning, suffocating humiliation clinging to my skin.

I ran up the stairs like a madwoman, my lungs screaming for oxygen until I burst into my room and threw the heavy deadbolt.

"f*****g plastic, low-life, bleach-blonde piece of absolute garbage," I gasped, the words breaking as the first real sob tore out of my throat.

The black bodycon dress felt like a straitjacket.

I reached behind my back, violently yanking at the zipper until the seams literally popped, and I ripped the fabric off my shoulders and I kicked it away, letting it pool on the cold linoleum floor like a heap of trash.

But then my eyes dropped to my legs, and the image of the Sigma house floor flashed behind my eyelids. The roaring laughter. The disgusting catcalls. Marcus’s stupid annoying voice whistling at me. All of it because I had tripped over that damn table, crashed, and put my favorite green lace g-string on full display for more than fifty obnoxious rich kids.

"Never again," I snarled, a dangerous heat taking over my chest.

I marched over to my desk, my bare feet slapping against the floor as I snatched my heavy fabric scissors from the drawer, my hands shaking with a mix of raw rage and devastation.

"Worship my body? Take my heart?" I muttered, mockingly quoting the exact diary entries Chloe had just read aloud.

I jammed the metal blades into the green lace. Snip, snip. "I am going to make that b***h pay for this. I am going to tear her life apart. And I am never, ever wearing a f*****g g-string again as long as I live!"

I shredded the underwear into tiny, jagged pieces, throwing the scraps into the bin with enough force to tip it over but I couldn't care less and the anger I was feeling was the only thing keeping me from completely falling apart.

Breathing heavily, I turned around to throw myself into bed, but my gaze caught the opposite side of the dark room. Maya’s side.

Her bed was completely empty cause the b***h was probably still out celebrating her new acceptance into the popular cheerleader squad. But lying right there on her pillow was that stupid plush doll we had bought together at the amusement park last semester.

A dark, violent surge went through my veins.

I walked over to her bed, my fists clenched so tight my knuckles ached.

I raised my arm, wanting to punch that smiling doll right off the mattress and tear it to shreds.

But right before my fist connected, I froze. My hand hovered in the air, trembling.

"No," I whispered, my voice cracking as the anger suddenly gave way to a hollow, deep ache. "The doll didn't do anything. The doll isn't the one who stabbed me in the back. It was Maya."

I let out a bitter, shaky breath and sank onto the edge of the empty mattress. I stared at the plush toy, treating it like a silent therapist because the actual human being who owned it was a traitor.

"You see that?" I whispered to the doll, pointing a finger at Maya’s empty bed. "Look at what your mother did.

My own mother always told me people only look out for themselves, but I actually believed Maya was different. She knew how much it hurt when people laughed at me. She was supposed to be my best friend. And she just handed my entire soul over to Chloe just like that."

The doll just stared back with its blank, stitched eyes.

"She's pathetic," I choked out, angrily wiping away a rogue tear that slipped down my cheek. "They're all pathetic."

I couldn't stand looking at anything that belonged to her for another second. I stood up, walked over to my own bed, and threw myself face-first onto the mattress. I grabbed the pillow, shoved it over my head, and let out a long, muffled scream.

I screamed into the feathers until my throat felt completely raw.

I cursed Chloe’s fake smile, Marcus’s disgusting mouth, and Ashton King’s handsome, freezing face that was totally Indifferent yes that’s how the great captain had looked. Like he was watching a boring movie instead of a girl getting her dignity publicly crushed. I hated him. I hated myself even more for writing those desperate, explicit fantasies about him in that damn book.

I tossed and turned for hours, the humiliation twisting my stomach into knots. But by the time 2:00 AM crawled around, the crying stopped, and my stubborn brain kicked back into gear.

The diary.

Chloe had been holding it when I fled, but knowing how drunk and distracted everyone was, there was a chance she had dropped it on the sectional couch or left it on the table. If I could sneak back there right now while everyone was passed out, I could steal it back before the morning rumors started.

"I am not letting them keep it," I muttered, sliding out of bed.

I didn't bother putting on real clothes. I just stayed in my oversized t-shirt and short bums and, crept out of the hostel room, and locked the door silently behind me.

The campus was completely dead, but the night air was thick and full of bugs. The moment I cut across the grass shortcut, the mosquitoes found me.

"Ow! You little bastards," I hissed, slapping my thigh as a sharp bite stung my skin.

"Seriously? Are you kidding me right now? My life is already a total disaster, and now I’m a midnight snack? Unbelievable. Go bite Chloe, she’s probably made of plastic anyway!"

I kept grumbling under my breath, swatting wildly at my arms as I hurried across the dark lawn. The silhouette of the Sigma house finally loomed ahead. The windows were dark, and the front lawn was a complete mess of discarded cups, but the side glass doors were propped slightly open.

Perfect.

I slipped through the gap, stepping into the dark lounge. The air still smelled like stale beer and weed. The floor was sticky under my bare feet as I navigated around the coffee tables, my eyes adjusting to the shadows.

I made a direct line for the sectional couch where the game had taken place but I didn't see the pink cover anywhere on the cushions, so I dropped to my knees, bending over in a deep, awkward kneeling position to peer underneath the low frame of the leather sofa. I was stretched out, my hands flat on the sticky floor, my head practically under the cushions as I searched the dark gap.

The house was dead silent and I didn't hear a single footstep and I also did not hear anyone come up behind me in the gloom.

Until suddenly, a heavy, warm hand landed squarely on my bare shoulder.

"Ah! Holy saints!" I screamed, twisting around frantically on the floor.