Page 6 of Silver Sinner

To be pitied like that, insulted, and then to find out it was all for a bet that was only fifty bucks?

My chest's about to cave in on itself with how rapid and short my breaths are. I stumble against one of the counters, sobbing, and scramble all the way to the sink where I grab fistfuls of napkins.

"Layla?" Tanya's voice follows me. "Layla? Oh honey, are you okay? I'm so sorry!" She surges around the corner but when she moves to hug me, I quickly back away.

"Don't," I gasp through the handful of tissues clutched in my fist. "I'm okay. I'm okay."

"No you're not. Those boys were absolute rats. Don’t listen to them, okay?"

"I'm fine!" Through my tears, I force a smile. "It was just… overwhelming. Please, I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" Her face twists with worry but ultimately, she stays back.

"Yeah. Yeah. Uhm, could you ask Taylor to take over at the front? I'll close for her, I just want to… I don't want to go back out there tonight."

Tanya's face melts with sympathy and she nods. "Yeah, I'll tell her."

"Thanks."

"Just…" She sighs and shoves both her hands into the pockets of her jacket. "They're assholes, okay? Don't listen to them."

"I won't. I won't." Tanya slips away, and thanks to forcing myself to be fine for her, my tears gradually slow, and I'm able to breathe a little easier.

Fat enough that I should be grateful.

The middle of my breastbone throbs deeply with pain that's tight and heavy as if something's resting against my chest.

Forcing a deep breath, I suck in my stomach and tighten the ties of my apron as if it'll hide the weight I carry about my middle.

But even as I look down at myself and clench my stomach further in, it doesn't work.

Their words have made every part of me triple in size in my own eyes and I can't shake it off. And Pierce?

Throwing himself between them like that… it was a very kind, very generous thing to do, but I can't face him.

Not with my composure shaken and every part of me burning like magma.

So I stay in the back for the rest of my shift, doing what I can to help the kitchen with cooking and then cleaning up as they close for the night.

Orders trickle to nothing but coffee, and gradually, one by one, the staff filter out, leaving just me for closing.

By the time it hits midnight, the diner has fallen quiet and my body, while still raw, returns to a more acceptable temperature.

I want to go home, drink wine, and cry myself to sleep.

Being asked out like a trick is bad enough, but fifty bucks? Is that really what I'm worth now?

It's been a long time since I've equated my body with any kind of monetary value, but back then I was thinner by no choice of my own.

Now I'm just me.

I close all the windows, lock up all the doors, and shed my apron in favor of my jacket.

As I'm slipping it over my shoulder, I glimpse my reflection in the fridge door.

Round cheeks, red-rimmed eyes and pale skin stare back at me.

My hair's spilling out of my bun so I reach up and undo the clasp, then immediately pull at my t-shirt as if tugging it down can hide the curve of my belly or the fullness of my hips.