Fighting Weight Read online

42

  Alina

  It’s the first night of the three sold-out shows we’re performing at Rogers Place in Edmonton, Alberta. I’m standing onstage, and I’ve never felt more alive. I was meant to do this. I don’t know when along this tour I lost my inhibitions, but I don’t feel like hiding anymore. Stepping forward from my usual spot to the left and the back, I surprise even myself when I take a position right on the edge of the stage as I riff my guitar on my solo piece during our song, “Dream Catcher”.

  “Edmontoooon! Let’s hear it for the incredibly talented Alina, slaying it on guitar!” Paisley shouts into the microphone, before belting out the next line: “’Cause you’ll only ever catch me in your dreams…”

  The crowd goes crazy, cheering and singing along as my solo and Paisley’s smooth vocals blend and meld together. We stand back to back now, our faces turned towards the crowd. I can’t remember ever moving as far out of my comfort zone as I have tonight to engage the audience like this, but this show has been such a blast. I feel like this must be what the elusive cloud nine feels like.

  “Keep that feeling, fight your feelings, ’cause you’ll only ever catch me in your dreams…” Paisley sings the next verse just as my final riff ends, and the crowd roars so loudly in appreciation it’s almost deafening. Siobhán quickly takes over, moving from the snare to the high-hats in a punchy attack and thumping away on the bass drum, the sound heavy at first before she pulls back, making way for Paisley once again. “How about that beat? Edmonton, my hockey-loving people, give it up for my girl, Shiv. And she’s ass-kissing tonight, folks. Check out that top!” Paisley shakes her head, and Rox and I share an audible laugh, seeing Siobhán now standing up behind her kit showing off her Edmonton Oilers T-shirt. “And, last but never least, give it up for Roxie playing bass…”

  *

  “…the earth.”

  I sing the end of the verse on a low hum, strumming my guitar softly and working the combination until it’s my version of perfection. I pause then, continuing to gently stroke the guitar strings, before I belt the line out again. It sounds loud, but powerful, in the empty room. I’m working to make it punchy, wanting to reinforce the importance of the line.

  After tonight’s show, I felt like writing. I felt both exhilarated and reflective. I had the best show of my career tonight, and it’s left me feeling a little raw and a whole bunch overwhelmed. Experiencing this level of accomplishment, this high, the satisfaction of having fun and being able to let loose after all my time on lockdown is taking a bit of a toll on my emotions. I’ve let Her run my life for far too long, but now with Slater, the girls, and this crazy adventure, I now realize that I have the ability to tackle any obstacle which might stand in front of me.

  Letting out a deep sigh, I’m content. Knowing most of my secrets are out and in the hands of the people I trust is a good feeling. And tonight, although we rocked the stage, I needed some me time afterwards. But now that the fan meet-and-greet is over, I find myself sitting in the greenroom amongst some crates of equipment and instruments, singing and playing one of my favourite songs, rather than writing a new one as I’d planned.

  “…swimmm.” I hold the last note again, moved as always by the beautiful lyrics about fighting and keeping your head above water.

  “You’ve got an incredible voice, Shadow.”

  I look up, startled to see Slater sitting on a rickety stool just inside the door.

  “How long have you been there?” I ask, my voice breathy from the weight of his copper eyes boring into mine. God, he’s handsome. In worn blue jeans and a fitted army-green shirt, his eyes seem to shine in the dim light. My eyes linger on his forearms where his shirt’s rolled up, giving me quite the view of his corded muscles, and vibrant skin.

  “Long enough to realize how talented my girl is. What song is that? I don’t think I’ve heard it before,” he asks, shifting on the stool, positioning his black boots up on the rungs.

  “It’s called ‘Swim’ by Jack’s Mannequin. The words, they’re special to me. It’s a song about staying afloat. I guess it’s my fight song,” I shrug, placing my guitar beside me on the couch, suddenly feeling vulnerable. Absentmindedly, I start rubbing my inner wrist.

  “I’ll have to listen to it, I don’t think I’ve heard of them. Or maybe one day you’ll sing it for me.” He cocks his head to one side, his eyes not wavering from mine.

  Opening his knees wider in invitation, Slater says, “Come here, Shadow.” His voice is firm, deep, and so intoxicating that I stand without hesitation, my body moving of its own volition. Always drawn to him like a magnet.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, taking a tentative step forward then stopping in place.

  “Came looking for you. Wanted to be near you. Saw your show. I’m fucking proud of you. You did amazing. I saw tonight what I knew was there all along. You owned it.” He smiles a brilliant smile, and it warms my chest. The air fills with electricity, and I feel my body reacting to his presence with the way he commands my attention in the small space. “So, you gonna stand there talking, or come see me, pretty girl?” Slater asks again, a teasing smile pulling across his full, firm lips. Lips I’ve driven myself crazy over, imagining how they’d feel against mine. I laugh nervously, realizing I’ve stopped moving again. “Come here, baby. Please?”

  Biting my inner cheek, I nod, knowing there’s no way I could stay away if I tried. Tamping down my own negative comeback after hearing him calling me ‘pretty’, I work to not only accept it, but to actually believe it, letting Slater’s matter-of-fact tone appease my inner doubts. I allow the compliment he gives to settle over me. I know he means it. I believe he sees me in that light, because if I’ve learned anything over the last month, Slater Jenkins isn’t one to mince words. And what’s more, he makes me feel more than pretty, he makes me feel beautiful every second we’re together. So, I let it go. I accept and believe in his compliment. And without further hesitation, I find myself stepping in between his knees.

  “Actually, I lied,” he says, tightening his legs, trapping me once I’m in his space. The air is thick, my senses on overload. I can feel him hardening against me, and my pulse races as his familiar scent comforts me, and turns me on.

  “Oh yeah?” I ask, not taking my eyes off his gorgeous face, working to steady my voice and balance on my wobbly legs, my nerves kicking in.

  “Yeah. You. Are. Exquisite.” He rests his forehead on mine. “You drive me crazy.” My breath constricts in my lungs. His strong arms slip around my waist; he pulls me in closer, and I let him. Our chests brush, and my nipples harden against the lace of my bra. I’ve never reacted to a man like this before, ever. Slater Jenkins owns me in this moment, and I don’t think I ever want to lose this feeling.

  “You scare me sometimes, Ali,” Slater admits, running his nose along the side of my cheek and ear, and I let out a nervous giggle, wanting to ask if he’s been reading my mind. Goosebumps break out along both of my arms from the heat of his breath. Running his nose softly against my skin again and again, I feel my heart thumping in my chest with each pass and each second we sit in silence, both of us letting his words linger.

  Finally, I find my voice and respond, “Good. Because sometimes you petrify me.” Feeling brave and needing to be closer, I move my arms around his neck, my fingers immediately running over the short stubble at the base of his neck, and before I can change my mind, I say, “I kind of like the feeling you give me. It’s a good scary. Exciting,” I whisper into his ear, eliciting a groan.

  Before I can overthink it, my hands come loose from around his neck, and move down to rest against his chest. I rub, feeling his tight muscles under my fingertips, his deep intake of breath letting me know he likes it. Gripping his shirt, I tug him into me. His eyes go wide as I pull him in as close as I can get before lifting my heels off the floor and brushing my lips ever so gently against his. He tastes like mint, he feels like safety, and I crave more.

  Slater reacts tentatively at first,
waiting to see if I freak out. Our first kiss is sweet, a little unsure, but I can feel him allowing me to lead. He’s so soft and gentle as we connect for the first time, the feel of his touch utter perfection. I shudder and let out a moan, which spurs him into action.

  Flicking his tongue out and ghosting it over the seam of my lips, he coaxes me to respond, to let his tongue in to meet with mine. And I oblige. When I open my mouth, Slater’s tongue begins to dance with mine, and soon it’s no longer sweet, gentle, or disciplined. We’re quickly becoming an inferno, as our tongues twist and move around each other’s. His hands drop down to grip my ass, squeezing, and I can feel my panties getting wet, my need for this man reaching a peak. I can’t get enough.

  “Yes, god, yes,” I say, when he breaks the kiss and nudges his face in between my neck and collarbone.

  My head is tilted back, and Slater runs his nose along my skin, inhaling me, telling me, “You smell so fucking perfect, always so sweet and good. Fuck, Ali,” as he kisses and licks down along my throat, before his lips are back demanding mine in return.

  We stay like this, kissing and holding onto each other for what feels like forever, Slater never pushing my boundaries, his hands never leaving my ass. It isn’t until Fife and Siobhán walk in to ask us if we want to head to the Red Star Pub with them for a few late night drinks and a bite to eat that we pull away from each other, reluctantly.

  “What is it about you?” I ask Slater, once those two leave, telling us we have five minutes before they announce to everyone that they caught us making out like dry-humping teens.

  “Not sure, but whatever it is, I’ll be sure to keep doing it,” Slater says, placing a sweet kiss on my nose before he hops down off the stool. Lacing his hand with mine, he leads us out to join our friends.

  You. Are. Exquisite…

  43

  Alina

  “Why are you smiling like a crazy person?” Paisley asks, feigning an irritated tone under her smile. Loosening the towel that’s been wrapped around her head, she tosses it at me before hopping on the bed. “Spill woman.”

  “It’s nothing,” I lie, feeling my face flush. I’m being ridiculous. I’m the equivalent of a teenage girl getting her first phone call from a boy.

  “Bullshit. It’s Slater. Isn’t it? You can’t lie to me,” she says, lying down beside me and grabbing my phone from my hand.

  “And this is why I like non-adjoining rooms,” I joke. For the first time since the tour started, I now have a quasi-roommate. Worried about my secret getting out, I always opted to bunk alone, and was never in the position of having an adjoining room with a door that I had to decide to leave open or closed. The Matrix Hotel has been one of the only hotels so far where this has been an issue, saving me from having to make up any awkward excuses when I wasn’t ready to share my space, until this tour stop in Edmonton.

  “Is this man for real? I’m fucking swooning, you lucky, lucky girl! I literally can’t even…” she says, placing her hand over her heart before reading Slater’s last text aloud. “‘Hurry up and see me, I need to kiss you again.’”

  I can’t hide my smile. I’ve been smiling so much, my cheeks hurt from reading it so many times.

  “I’m beyond happy for you two, Ali. I really like Slater for you…well, since he admitted to his asshattery with blondie,” she says, handing me back my phone.

  “‘Asshattery’?”

  “Yup, total asshat behaviour, that was,” Pais nods triumphantly.

  “We should title a song that,” I quip.

  “We totally should! Get writing.”

  “I’m kidding, but thanks. I’m really happy too, right now. I’m glad Slater and I are starting to figure things out. He’s been nothing but patient and understanding so far,” I share, slipping my phone through my fingers, letting it fall and picking it back up, repeating the movement over and over.

  “Are you going to give me the deets on the ‘again’, part of that text?” Paisley raises her right brow.

  “Nope, we need to get ready. I’ve got kisses waiting,” I beam, rolling out of bed, grabbing my clothes, and heading to the shower.

  “Alina Cassidy! That’s not fair!” Paisley shouts, as I close the bathroom door behind me. “Fine. You’re lucky I’m too excited to finally get to visit West Edmonton Mall to make you succumb to my will right now. But know this—you will divulge all in time, Ms Cassidy.”

  Instead of responding, I just laugh. I’m not as excited as she is to go shopping, because clothes shopping is hard for me. I always end up migrating to the racks housing the looser, bigger, baggier clothes. I am, however, excited to spend the day at the famous mall with Slater, his kisses, and my friends. Luckily, there are lots of other things to do there besides shop. Who knew laughing could feel this good?

  *

  “You guys go on, I’ll meet you by the exit. I’ll stay with Charlie and Oliver.” My voice wobbles as the members of Sicken Union and my girls try to convince me to ride the Mindbender roller coaster with them.

  The West Edmonton Mall is home to Galaxyland, one of the world’s largest indoor amusement parks, and the staff and facility were able to accommodate us by giving us a few hours of late access after closing. I can’t stop staring up at the roller coaster cars, sitting quiet and empty, waiting for everyone to get on. Looking at the ride’s restraint system and knowing that Slater will want to sit with me, all I can think of is that he’ll notice how big I actually am. He’ll see how my thighs rub the plastic sides of the coaster’s cart, how long the lap belt will need to be to accommodate my stomach, see how the over-the-shoulders restraint barely contains me. He’ll see how I have to cram myself in, like a marshmallow bursting out of a birdcage. And, worst of all, I worry he’ll change his mind about me.

  If Kristie could see me now, she’d first acknowledge my perception of how I’m seeing things, but then she’d ask me to stop and see if maybe my mind’s distorting what I’m actually seeing and stressing about. She’d also remind me I’m actually at a healthy weight right now, and that 130 lbs is “good work”, even if I don’t see it that way. Kristie would then “take off her therapist hat” and roll her eyes at me. But, regardless of knowing that she’d say all of these things, these other images of myself as a bloated puffer fish are what run through my mind. They probably always will to some extent, for a long time—if not forever—no matter what others say. Kristie would tell me to simply acknowledge the thought, and then try to dial it way down in terms of how much I let it affect me, but I’m having trouble with that right now. Maybe it’s because I’m also feeling a little anxiety about riding this roller coaster.

  If Lucky were here, he’d give me shit for going backwards when I’ve worked so hard and made so many gains in my recovery over the last two years. He’d say something about not letting myself stand in my own way. He’d remind me that I’ve done that far too long. Lucky would tell me to take charge of me, to just go on the ride and get over myself. I hate the idea of missing out on the fun—of not making these memories with Slater and the girls—but I can’t risk it. My body dysmorphia really does my head in sometimes, and right now is a prime example.

  I haven’t even been to an amusement park or on a ride since my dad died. I used to love when he’d take Lucky and me. I really do want to experience this, yet I’m not so sure I can handle the thought of Slater, my friends, the security team, and the amusement park workers all watching me, judging me, and waiting to see if the “fat girl” will fit. Even if what’s on the outside doesn’t actually match my insides, I still worry they’ll witness my humiliation, no matter what anyone might say.

  “No way, Ali,” Fife says, moving to the side of the entranceway to let me pass in front of him. “We’re all going on, you included. This is supposed to be a rush.” He’s right, it is supposed to be a complete rush—it’s the world’s largest indoor triple-loop roller coaster—and here I am wavering, letting myself get in my own way. Again. Stepping closer to the entrance and eyeing the blue
train, I will myself to shut down all those bullshit worries, giving myself a pep talk. I know better. This is just my bully trying to manipulate me. I will not let Her win.

  “If you’re scared, babe, I’ll be right beside you. I’ll even let you hold my hand,” Slater says as he comes up behind me, pulling me back into his chest. I melt into his touch as the others pass to get to the ride’s platform.

  Turning around so we’re face to face, I take in his charming smile, warm eyes, and the subtle stubble that’s gracing his strong jaw today. “Slate, I’m not sure.” I pause, wondering how honest is too honest, so soon in our whatever we are.

  “I promise, it’s safe. Well, safer now. There was—” Slater begins.

  “Actually, I’m getting in my head about the seat size. It’s really stupid. Logically, I know I’ll fit but I’m having a moment of panic,” I blurt, cutting him off, surprising myself. And him also, judging from the way his face contorts in disbelief.

  “Jesus, Ali,” he says, rubbing his hand behind his neck like I’ve noticed he does so often when he’s unsure or thinking of what to say next.

  “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything. I’m being crazy. I’ll just meet you around at the end, I don’t want to hold you up,” I tell him, making a move to retreat from the line. I barely make it two steps before he’s in front of me.

  “Don’t do that,” he says, leaning down so we’re eye to eye. “Don’t discount your feelings and my right to respond, to try and understand and help you work through it. You caught me off guard…I’ll admit it. That was the last thing I expected to be holding you back.” He takes a deep breath. “Now, I won’t tell you you’re crazy, or try to explain how wrong you are. Or tell you how beautiful I think you are, or how much I think about getting to touch you, or how I can’t wait to be alone with you. And I won’t tell you how much I can’t wait to kiss you again, or how badly I want to feel your body brushing against mine, or how I wish I could help you to see what we all see when we look at you,” Slater says, his tone serious. His eyes never leave my face, and I want to cry. And I want to argue, but he’s not done. “I know better, so I won’t tell you any of those things,” he grins, “but what I will say is that I will never discount your feelings, and I’m happy you’re opening up to me, even if you hadn’t planned on it. It’s a step, one in the right direction.”