Pure Belleza | ✔️

(63)

The next few days were uneventful. There wasn't a lot to do. I wasn't working. Max and Amalia had jobs to go to.

The apartment was fine but it seemed to feel smaller the longer I was in it.

I could've caught up with friends who lived here but most of them were superficial friendships. People I saw on shoots and that sort of thing.

So I kept myself occupied with room decor for as long as possible.

I decided to go with a sky blue and white theme. Blue was calming. Soothing. I wasn't wound up but it was good for healing, so I'd heard.

The comforter was the colour of the ocean. The walls were white.

Geometric designs added dimension and little knick knacks gave character on the side tables.

It was bright, more open and relaxing. It made me feel like I was at home in California.

Which had its pros and cons. It was nice to remember the beach side living. I missed the sea and the sand.

But home was where Flynn was and after receiving his text message on Wednesday, I couldn't stop thinking about him and what to do.

I'd never been so at war. I was starting to believe the people around me. I was starting to believe I didn't need to be so hard on myself and could let myself be happy.

But at the same time, I hated what a hassle I'd been to Flynn when I was sick.

He was constantly missing classes because he was hanging around the house to watch me eat or attempting to talk to me or pleading that I get some help.

It wasn't fair to jeopardise his studies and life with my drama. He deserved better.

I wandered out into the living area on Saturday morning and found Max and Amalia on the sofa. She was under him. He was eating her face.

I bee lined straight for the kitchen and couldn't help but feel terrible for invading their space so soon after Amalia moved in.

It seemed like wherever I went, I wasn't going to fit and that made me feel like I'd be better off in rehab.

Amalia must have heard me opening the fridge because I heard a loud thud and when I turned around, Max was on the floor.

"Hey," Amalia stood up and smoothed out her nightdress as she walked into the kitchen. "You're up. Perfect. We have french toast on Saturday mornings. It's keeping warm in the oven."

I smiled and then looked over at Max who had hauled himself off the ground and was slipping into the bathroom.

"Can you grab the cream and maple syrup out of the fridge for me please?" Amalia asked, placing a plate of hot french toast in the middle of the table.

It smelled so good and I tried hard not to think about the sugar content in a meal like that.

It was going to go straight to my hips. I'd bloat. I'd look disgusting in my jeans for the rest of the day. I'd have to wear a loose dress.

But it was one meal. I could manage that. Plus, I could do a circuit in the gym this afternoon. It was no big deal. No big deal. I'd work off the sugar. People ate sugar all the time. It was balance. I'd just have to work it off. Healthily.

It's fine.

"You didn't have to wait for me," I told Amalia as she flicked the kettle on and dropped one of my herbal tea bags into a cup. "I sleep in a lot."

She waved me off and slid some knives and forks across the breakfast bar. "Max and I eat at the table, all the time. It's kind of just a habit at this point after how I was raised. But I love eating together. All of us. You're here and you're apart of this family. So we wait."