Page 5 of Lovestruck
She’s got brains and beauty, and big plans for her future. All I’ve got is barely controlled anxiety and a learning disability that didn’t get diagnosed until I was a teenager. Oh, and no clue what I want my life to be like beyond the next year or so.
I drop down onto a mat and start stretching, trying to force the unwelcome self-criticizing thoughts out of my head. It’s taken me years to even begin to stop feeling like a total failure in life, and to acknowledge the fact that having anxiety is not my fault. It’s just the way my brain is wired, and it’s just something I have to live with.
But even with all the medication I’ve tried, the therapy, and all the work I’ve done, I still find myself feeling completely unworthy, especially when measured up against someone like Kat Donnelly.
“Hunter, you gotta see this, bro.”
Sawyer drops down to the floor beside me and holds his phone in front of my face.
I’ve never been a fast reader, so panic starts to claw at my throat. The words blur. There’s no way I can read them.
“Huh. Yeah, cool.”
“Cool? Dude, did you even read it? It’s total bullshit. She’s getting dragged through the mud for something guys have been doing forever. Fucking double standard if you ask me.”
“Right. Totally. Listen, I gotta go.” I stand up abruptly, gathering all my stuff and heading for the door.
I berate myself the entire way to my car. Why the hell do I freeze sometimes like that? Especially over something so goddamn stupid like reading an article on someone’s phone. The pressure of it, of not wanting Sawyer to know how slow I am with reading, it was suffocating in that moment. I’m not proud of how I basically ran out of there like a total pansy, but when it comes to fight or flight, I’ve always been flight.
Once I’m in my car, I open my own phone and open the news app. As soon as I see a headline with #claimyourcoal, it becomes pretty damn clear this must be what Sawyer was talking about. Some Hollywood actress speaking out about the double standards against women expressing their sexuality. And he’s right. She’s being dragged through the mud for something men do every day, everywhere in the fucking world. The difference is, she’s not standing for it.
She’s fighting back.
And she’s encouraging women everywhere to be brave, be bold, and go after what they want, unapologetically.
I’m not exactly her target audience, but her message hits me just the same. Too bad a pep talk from a celebrity isn’t enough to conquer my demons.
Chapter 3
Kat
My mom is who I go to anytime I’m happy, sad, confused, overwhelmed, or all of the above at the same time. When I was working as a nurse in a busy trauma hospital on the mainland, feeling burned out and homesick, she’s the one who reminded me of my childhood dream to be a women’s health nurse practitioner in our hometown.
Even though my oldest brother Max is the doctor in our family, it was Mom who helped me fill out my application to the University of Victoria’s master’s in nursing program. She’s the one I celebrated with when I got in, and she’s the one who has provided me with all the late-night study snacks and a shoulder to cry on during my pre-exam freak outs.
But I can’t bring myself to talk to her about my feelings for Hunter.
Even though Lily sayseveryone knows, I’d rather stick my head in the sand and pretend that’s not true. Because I can tell my mom a lot of things, but I can’t tell her I’m hung up on a guy who doesn’t see me as anything more than a waitress.
“Hi, honey.” Mom’s cheerful voice floats to me from the kitchen as soon as I close the front door of my childhood home. “I’m just pulling the last batch of cookies out.”
Once I’ve hung up my coat, I follow the smell of cinnamon and spice. Nobody makes gingerbread cookies like Claire Donnelly, and today is our annual cookie decorating marathon, while Christmas movies play in the background.
“Hey, Mom.” I lean in to give her a kiss before heading to the sink to wash my hands.
“I thought we’d start with gingerbread, then move on to the sugar cookies for your dad. Oh, and I found this new recipe we’ve got to try for meringue wreaths. They’re just adorable.”
“Sounds good to me. Want me to start the movie? What are we watching first?”
Mom dusts off her hands and bustles over to me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders for a quick hug. “Doesn’t matter to me, sweetie. Oh, but speaking of Christmas movies, did you see the news with Hollie Berry? That girl sure is shaking things up now, isn’t she? ‘Claim your coal.’ It’s catchy, I think.”
“Umm, yeah, I guess?” I say noncommittally. “I don’t know that I see the big deal, she’s just telling women to go for what they want in life, right? Loads of people have said that before. It’s not like this is magically going to end misogynism.”
“Hey, we can hope for a Christmas miracle, can’t we?” Mom replies drily and we both laugh. “But seriously, I think she’s got a good message. You know, in my day, there were next to no places for women to safely explore their sexuality. I think it’s great you can find these strip shows, and sex shops, and —“
“Oh my God, Mom, stop!” I cry out, covering my ears with my hands in mock panic. “I know we’re close, but we are not strip show and sex shop close.”
“Relax, Kat.” Mom laughs, shaking her head at me. “I don’t need the details of your intimate relations anymore than you need the details of mine. Past or present.” Her wink makes me cringe, ever so slightly.
