Page 3 of The Burdens We Share (Satan’s Angels #3)

She raises a brow, “Not if you continue the way you have been. You need to lose a couple more pounds. If we increase your exercise and lower your caloric intake, we can get you to look like a smaller version of Cami, and I bet you if we do that, you’ll be at the top.”

I never listen to Nara. Usually, her nitpicking goes in one ear and out the other.

But could she actually be right about this one thing?

I look back at the iPad screen, assessing my body from someone else’s eyes.

I look back at Cami and frown. Cami is taller but is that really an excuse?

I look at the screen for the third time and really stare at myself.

Maybe my thighs do look a little bigger than I thought.

And my stomach too. I could see it definitely looks puffier than Cami’s.

I’ve always felt good in my skin. Confident, even.

But as I stare at the photo, something sharp lodges in my chest. Am I wrong?

Has my body changed without me noticing?

“How much weight do you think I should lose?”

Nara suddenly looks like the cat that got the cream, most likely because she knows she’s won. “If we can get you down about five pounds, I’d say you’d be golden.”

I hesitate, glancing once more at Cami. I’ve always been so secure and comfortable in my body, but Cami didn’t become as successful as she is today by not being as disciplined as she is.

I want to be the top model in the industry.

I want it so bad, I’m willing to do whatever it takes, even if that means I have to listen to Nara.

I slowly drag my gaze back to meet Nara’s and I reluctantly nod, “Okay.”

She grins and I suddenly feel like I’ve made a deal with the Devil. “Perfect. I’ll send a nutrition plan to your email.”

I nod and Nara turns, sauntering away with a pep in her step.

I frown and turn to face myself in the mirror.

I looked at myself so admiringly in the mirror before Nara came over.

Now the sight of myself seems to make me feel defeated.

I don’t feel good about my appearance now.

I feel uncomfortable in my own skin. Like my body betrayed me.

Like I’m seeing it through someone else’s eyes—Nara’s eyes.

Usually, when Nara criticizes me, I brush her off and call Brody and Aria to tell them about it and we all laugh and make jokes about Nara, but I don’t feel right telling them about this one.

Part of me worries they may agree with her because I saw the photo with my own eyes.

I don’t look like Cami at all and if I want to be successful in this industry long-term, I have to look like Cami.

Even when I do tell the girls, we don’t tell Selene because the last thing I need is Selene flying off the handle at Nara for speaking to me like that.

I don’t want to bother Selene with something so minor when I see with my own eyes how busy she is.

I can handle Nara on my own- I don’t need Selene stepping in.

There’s a weight on my chest right now. A weight that doesn’t feel like it can be removed.

I glance back at myself in the mirror and it looks like that sparkle I had in my eyes before Nara came over is gone completely.

This is not a feeling I’d wish on my worst enemy.

To be disgusted by the sight of yourself. To feel uncomfortable in your own skin.

I spring out of my chair before I can have a breakdown and hurry over to the curtained dressing room with my name on it.

I just wanna get out of here and go home.

The high of being on that stage has long worn off, leaving me feeling empty and broken.

Nara really just deteriorated all of my self confidence.

I step inside the dressing room and close the curtain behind me.

I remove my phone from my pink duffle bag and see a few random notifications, but at the top is an email from Nara with my new nutrition plan.

She sent that so fast that it’s almost like she had it ready to go and was just waiting to press send.

I can’t look at it right now. If I do, I might start to hate my appearance more, and that will only send me into a tailspin.

I quickly remove my lounge clothes from my bag and change out of the lingerie.

Once I’m fully dressed in a matching gray leggings and t-shirt set, I lift my bag and sling it over my shoulder, ready to go.

I stop in my tracks as the bag hits my back. Behind it on the bench, almost hiding, was a pink rose. Now that the bag is removed, the flower comes into view. My face pales and I freeze in my tracks.

I stare, wide-eyed, at the flower as a chill creeps down my spine.

It has the same baby pink petals I’ve come to be so familiar with these last months.

I’ve kept this to myself since it started, but for months I’ve been finding these roses in strange places.

The first was at the studio, then another at a photoshoot, and another at the Muse Awards.

It all started a couple of days after Aria was in the hospital.

There have never been any notes attached to the roses so I’ve never been sure what to make of them.

I’d be lying if I said that finding them in these personal locations didn’t freak me out a little, but I haven’t been threatened in any way, so how serious can it be.

I mean, yeah it’s creepy that I’ve found them in my personal dressing rooms, but maybe it’s an act of kindness from an admirer or something.

Usually, when I get them, I just leave them where I found them, so I do the same now.

I stare at the flower for a second longer than I should.

My skin crawls, and a chill prickles across my shoulders.

This doesn’t feel like a gift. It feels like a warning.

I rush out of the dressing room and my phone starts to ring from inside my bag.

I groan as I reach into it and rummage around until my hand closes around my phone.

I am manifesting that the caller is not Nara.

I hold my breath as I flip the screen over and exhale in relief when I see Nate’s name on the screen.

Nate is Aria’s boyfriend Slater’s bandmate in Thunderstrike.

Nate plays bass too and when Aria and Slater had to do all that publicity shit where they pretended to be together to distract the media from the fact that they had a leaked sex tape, we had to spend quite a bit of time with Slater’s band, or Sly, as everyone calls him.

The fake relationship that Aria and Sly had worked in turning their bad press around, but shit only went downhill after, cue Rogan and his drugging and kidnapping my best friend. Asshole.

In the time we had to spend with Thunderstrike, Nate and I hit it off pretty well and actually became good friends.

Our friendship is purely platonic and I’d consider him to be one of my best friends.

We flirt with each other, but in the same way the girls and I flirt and tease each other.

It isn’t a romantic thing, it’s a close friend thing.

I accept his call and bring my phone to my ear, “Hello?”

I hear loud music and immediately know Nate is at the club, “Satan’s Baby! I just saw the pics from the show. You look hot,” he compliments in his booming voice.

I immediately frown at the mention of the show and my appearance. Could he see what Nara saw and just be saying that to not hurt my feelings? “Thanks, Nate.” I try to make my voice sound chipper, but the effort crashes and burns, turning to dust just like all the self confidence I had.

There’s a pause at the other end before his tone becomes more serious, “Are you okay?”

I start walking again, desperate to get to my car and home, holding my phone to my ear the entire time. “Yeah, I’m good,” I lie.

I can hear the frown in his voice, “I don’t believe you, but we’re gonna pretend that I do.” He must be walking somewhere because the music quiets down in the background, “What are you up to, right now?”

“I’m leaving the show, I’m gonna head home,” I answer.

A door closes and I can hear him perfectly, “Um, no you aren’t. You’re coming to the club and hanging out with your best friend, Nate Sawyer because he misses your beautiful face.”

A small smile tugs at my lips. Nate just has a talent for cheering me up with his bright and playful personality. “You know, usually when someone refers to themselves in the third person, they have a personality disorder,” I tease.

He laughs on the other end, “I think everyone in our line of work has some kind of disorder.”

I laugh back, “That is very true.”

Nate circles back, his tone serious, “So will you come hang with me, or not? I miss you.”

I chew my lower lip in thought. I’m feeling pretty shitty at the moment after my conversation with Nara, but Nate always has a way of cheering me up and taking my mind off of things.

I catch sight of a clothing rack in my hands and stop in my tracks.

My eyes land on a stunning white mini dress with pearls stitched into the fabric with white rhinestones.

I look down and find a pair of heels to match and take a step closer, looking down.

There’s a number five stitched into the sole of the heel, my size.

I dip my finger into the dress and pull the back to the side to get a look at the size on the tag.

It’s a size two, my size. What are the odds?

I’ll take it as a sign. “I miss you, too. What club is it?”

“Hellraiser,” he replies.

I smirk even though Nate can’t see me, “Perfect. Be there in twenty.”

“Yes!” Nate cheers from the other end.

I hang up and snatch the dress off the wrack before reaching down to grab the heels. Do these belong to me? No. Am I taking them anyway? Yes.