Cheesy on the Eyes by Teagan Hunter Page 0,43

I didn’t think much of it until I started noticing the bruises on my mom’s arms, and then I started paying more attention. My dad just felt…off. Like he wasn’t…right, you know? Just all wrong.”

She’s not looking at me, almost like she knows I don’t want her to, but I know she’s listening to every word.

“When I was ten,” I continue, “he went to prison for some shady shit. Found out he wasn’t at all who he’d been claiming to be. He had my mother fooled into believing he was a good family man. Fooled the whole town we lived in, had them believing he was a man of God and an honest businessman. Every single person fell for his charms, even me for a long time. He wasn’t good. He wasn’t a family man. He was nothing but a fake.” I scoff. “So goddamn fake, as we found out later in court. Not even some of his basic information was real, but damn did his documentation look legit.” I shake my head. “Anyway, he was caught, turned in by an ex-employee he screwed over, and spent fifteen years in the big house for it all.” I clear my throat and sigh. “He’s why it’s pure fucking torture…because I don’t want to be anything like him.”

When she doesn’t say anything for at least a minute, I dare to glance over at her.

She’s looking at me—through me. Peering into my fucking soul.

“Sully, I—”

I shake my head once. “Don’t. Don’t apologize, please. I hate that, because it’s not you who should be apologizing for his actions. It’s him.”

She swallows loudly, dropping whatever she was going to say, and nods.

“Can I just say…I know what it’s like to be duped by someone you love deeply. I understand that pain.”

She means her ex and his cheating. She does know what it’s like to not be able to trust someone you once gave everything to. It explains a lot about her reasoning for doing this whole fake-dating thing rather than actually dating.

“He’s the asshole who instilled this distrust of dating in you, why you’re lying to yourself about being ‘too busy’ to date, why you’d rather hide behind something fake than be real.”

Her mouth drops open, and for a moment it appears she’s going to refute my claims, but then her eyes fill with pain.

“He is,” she confirms, “and it fucking sucks. I used to not give two shits what anyone thought of me. Not guys or mean popular girls or judgy old ladies at church—not anyone. I was fine with being me. I was lucky enough to have parents who encouraged me to embrace all that I am, but then he happened. His attacks on who I am, his cheating…it broke me. Made me feel so small, so less than, so unworthy. It made me second-guess everything.” She sighs. “I…I’m…scared. I don’t want to get hurt again. I just want to live in this blissful bubble of never having to feel that kind of pain ever again.”

“So you’re just going to…what? Be alone forever?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t want to be alone forever. I’d love to find someone who loves me, who accepts me, who whispers sweet nothings in my ear and tells me all the wonderful things everyone wants to hear. But…being alone sounds a hell of a lot better than ever experiencing the heartache of giving someone your all and having them crush you. I can always find someone to satisfy any itches I might have. I’m fine with missing out on the rest.”

I feel a twinge of jealousy when I think about someone else putting their hands on her and getting to experience her body, but I push it aside, the frustration with her ignorance much louder.

“That’s bullshit.” I don’t hold back the bite in my words. “You’re just scared of the uncertainty.”

“I am scared, Sully. I’m fucking terrified. Have you ever had someone tell you you’re not enough? Because I have, and it’s not great.” She huffs. “I just want to know why. Why wasn’t I good enough? Or hell, just enough? Why wasn’t I worth the effort?”

“Don’t base your worth off an asshole like that.” I grit my teeth. “Especially that asshole. Every single flaw that you have—and yes, you do have some. I don’t want to blow smoke up your ass and tell you you’re perfect when no one actually is.” She laughs. “Those imperfections are okay. They make you you, and I happen to