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Back Losers: Part I Save as PDF
Chapters (58)
  1. Table of Contents
  2. Content Note
  3. A Note From The Author
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. Acknowledgements
  57. Also By Harley Laroux
  58. About The Author

Mind and body bent to his will as I shook my head. I couldn’t help thinking about them, wanting them, longing for things I wasn’t supposed to want.

He pressed in deep, baring his teeth with a guttural curse as he came inside me.

29

29

Jessica

High School - Senior Year

I didn’t feel joy as they set the crown on my head. It tangled in my hair and scratched on my scalp. The lights were too bright as they focused on me, the excited cheers of my peers deafening me from the mass of shadows beyond the lights. Faceless applause to drown out the snickers and murmurs.

“All right, big smiles!” One of the yearbook staff, I couldn’t remember her name, popped in front of us with her camera at the ready. With Prom King and Queen announced, the music was turned up and pounding again, hammering along with my heart. I turned toward Kyle, laid my hand on his chest and plastered a smile on my face. I made sure to cock my hip at just the right angle and extend my leg forward, white stilettos balancing me precariously on the sleek wood floor of the gymnasium.

“You’d better smile, Kyle,” I muttered through my clenched, smiling teeth. “Don’t fucking ruin these pictures.”

His hand encircled my waist, revolting me. “Always got a fake smile at the ready, don’t you, Jessica?” The words were returned through his own plastic smile. “That’s why no one likes you. You’re fake as fuck.”

Smile. Just smile. The camera flashed. If I was going to have to look at these photos hung proudly on my mother’s wall for the next who-knows-how-many years, I was going to make sure I looked good in them. It didn’t matter who I was standing next to. It had never mattered.

It didn’t matter if everyone hated me. It didn’t matter that right before the announcement, Kyle had let it slip that he wanted to break up again. It didn’t matter that he’d blurted out he was dumping me. Again.

It didn’t matter. God, it didn’t matter. Just smile.

People were cheering for a dance. With every step down from the stage, I fixed that smile a little tighter on my face. I held Kyle’s hand, damp and moist around my own. He was sweating through his tux, his eyes wandering the crowd. Always wandering. It didn’t matter what I looked like, or how I dressed, or what I did in bed. It didn’t matter.

It was never enough.

We danced. The camera flashed. Make it look like you’re having a good time.