#i didn't realize i would be ordering at olive garden but i was NOT gonna eat their so-called 'FOOD' again!!

[britneyshakespeare]

several months ago i was out late having dinner w my friends and everyone decided on olive garden, which is a restaurant i don’t like. i don’t particularly like italian food to begin w and olive garden is ridiculously expensive for a fuckin chain restaurant. last time i ordered a proper meal there i just had fettucine alfredo and it was like $16.50 and they would’ve charged me like 2 or 3 extra bucks just to add BROCCOLI. at restaurants that aren’t even italian but happen to offer alfredo pasta it often just gives you broccoli for the sake of it but NO. i was SO mad the last time i ate my last proper meal at olive garden that i vowed i’d never eat there again. $16.50 for broccoli-less pasta that had been thrown in the microwave with wet generic alfredo sauce on it, nah. plus tip. no. i told myself i’m just never eating there again, i HATE that place.

but then i lost the vote but still wanted to go out w my friends and i knew i wouldn’t get home till like, after 11 o’clock at night and i was not gonna make myself a proper dinner so i may as well eat something. and i had recently thought of this much better strategy: just order a dessert instead of an entree. i thought of this first when i went out to a restaurant that’s kinda es’pensive, and where i really just wanted to try to dessert and a proper entree probably would’ve filled me to the point where i wouldn’t be able to eat a dessert before going home. life hack by the way: you don’t have to order dinner at a restaurant. if you just want a dessert they will give it to you.

so anyway i was at olive garden back in like february and im like uggghhhh. fine. i’m not leaving this place on an empty stomach. i told the waitress i will have......... a piece of strawberry cream cake. and a glass of chardonnay.

and that is the most “i’ve been good” ass meal i think i’ve ever ordered. the waitress giggled at me.

my sister last week was hanging out w two of the friends i was w when i ordered my i’ve been good ass meal and apparently they still talk about it.

[ambivalent-anarchy]

Grey

Gender: Female

Pairing: Peter Parker x morally grey! reader

Warning: None

Saw something on Pinterest and had an idea.

This will be a new storyline. Not a fic, just the one-shots will be connected, though you'll be able to read all of them separate and it still makes sense. You can send requests for this storyline just put 'Peter Parker x grey!reader'

Morally grey- a character who does too much good to fully be bad, but too much bad to fully be good and their motives are unclear.

Hope you like it!

---------------------------------------

Peter had been warned against people like her.

She kept him on his toes, always switching sides. She wasn't like the other villains he'd known.

Mysterio, Scorpion, Otto Octavius. They were bad. There was no doubt about it. They'd each brought some turmoil on the world in one form or another.

They needed to be stopped. So Spiderman stopped them. Simple as that.

But [Y/N]. She was different.

"Watch out for the morally grey ones," Mr. Stark had told him early in his superhero career. "They're the confusing ones. The ones ya just can't fully be mad at."

Natasha was much more clear with her approach. "Take my advice, kid," she said. "Don't make it personal. I've seen how you act with your villains.. one like that, where they're so close to being good, yet so far. One like that would kill your spirit."

And it certainly seemed Peter had finally found his match.

"Give it up, [Y/N]! I always catch you!"

He'd been tracking her for weeks now. At first it seemed she was just a common thief. But she was smart. She had skills. She had plans. And well, if you wear a costume, you can't just be some common thief.

"You forget, Spiderman!," she chirped as she ran, a large, bulging bag on her back. "We're twelve to seven! I've been coming up lately!"

Peter rolled his eyes as he hopped into action. "Is this just a game to you?"

"I'm just saying," she laughed. "Gotta give credit where credit is due!"

Peter scoffed as he swung to catch up. "You say that as you hold a bag of hundreds of people's stolen money!"

This was her fifth time this week. Going to rich people's banks and sneaking past the security systems and stealing their money.

For a few weeks, Peter hadn't eaten. He hadn't slept. He was practically going crazy searching for her. Trying to pin an M.O. to make it a bit easier for himself. But she was untraceable. The only thing he'd found out about her was her name. Which basically led to nothing being that she was practically a nobody. The only time he could see her was when she made herself visible.

Today, she'd hit the bank Norman Osborn had been storing sums of his money into. But hardly anyone knew that. She'd done her research and some heavy snooping.

"It's mostly just Osborn today, he'll find a way to bounce back! He always does!," she yelled, jumping to the last building on the block.

She looked around desperately as she felt her chaser getting closer. She was trapped. "Crap," she muttered.

"Gotcha," Peter whispered to himself as he swung to the building she stood on. Once there, he quickly webbed the bag from her back.

Quickly noticing what he was doing, [Y/N] caught it just as he began to snatch it. She kept a tight hold on it and they began to fight for dominance, stuck in their own little game of tug-of-war.

"Let...go!," Peter grunted.

"Not on your life," she shot back, feeling her feet slide on the concrete. She was about to lose.

They both realized it as her feet began to give way and her body became airborne, almost crashing into Peter before he quickly moved out of the way.

"Ugh!"

[Y/N] screamed as her entire back crashed into wall of the building. Looking up, she watched as Spiderman grabbed the bag.

"Oh, hell no," she spat.

Peter smirked as he picked up the bag. "Sorry [Y/N]. But I guess it's thirteen to seven now- AGH!"

He collapsed in an instant, feeling something hard sling across his face. It was too hard to be a fist. And God it hurt like hell.

[Y/N] scowled. "You threw me into a wall!," she screamed as hit her nemesis again and again with the butt of her gun. "You asshole!"

Peter grimaced, attempting to grab hold to her wrists and push her off of him. "Well, I didn't BREAK YOUR NOSE!," he hissed through gritted teeth. Luckily, that was the only thing that felt broken of his.

She continued her brutal attack on his upper body, almost as if she's was trying to put the gun through him before he finally got the upper hand and threw her off.

He moved to try to stand, but he fell back down, an entirely new, different pain aside from his face starting.

[Y/N] propped her head up. "Was that your stomach?," she asked.

Aunt May was out of town, so there was no one to make sure Peter had been taking care of himself, which he hadn't. The last thing he'd prepared was a pop-tart, that was still burning in the toaster in his home as he sat on that building.

[Y/N] stood, rubbing her back to relieve some of the pain she felt that was keen on staying. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that was your stomach."

Peter scrunched his eyebrows together, confused. Still, he put his fist up to fight, ignoring the heavy and loud rumbling of his stomach.

Rolling her eyes, she threw the gun down. "Well, I'm not gonna fight you now." She moved toward him to pick up the bag he barely had a hold on. Unzipping it and reaching in, she pulled out a few bills and put it in the hand that wasn't pressing his cheek. "Here. Take it."

Peter backed into the wall some more, if that was even possible. "I don't want your dirty money," he protested.

"Well, it's from a rich people bank. It's actually pretty clean," [Y/N] joked before kicking his uninjured leg lightly. "C'mon man, don't be weird just take it, okay?"

"Put the money back in the bag," Peter ordered, making a second attempt to stand. He didn't make it this time either, cursing quietly as he fell back to the ground. Was he hurt or was he just really tired he asked himself.

"You need to eat something."

Peter frowned, wrapping both arms around his grumbling stomach. "You need to mind your own business."

[Y/N] stepped forward slowly, arms held out in front of her, palms up. "You fainted on me last week, remember idiot? And I can hear how hungry you are now." She walked a bit closer, picking up the bills her enemy had thrown on the ground, then looked back up to him. "If you won't take the money, at least let me buy you some food," she bargained.

Peter watched the mixed expressions flicker on her face. Annoyance. Concerned? She sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Look Spiderman, you help everyone. Let someone help you for once. Don't let your pride stop you from taking the help you need to continue saving lives, okay?" She smiled crookedly. "To continue stopping people like me."

Peter stared, mouth agape. "[Y/N], what is this?," he questioned. "You're not nice.. you're rude, a-and you only care about yourself." He winced, shuffling to lay his back on the wall of the building you'd thrown him into moments before.

"Well, I've always preferred 'rough around the edges', but okay," she snickered, rolling her eyes and then looking down at the ground right in front of his feet. This was completely out of her element, but she couldn't help but feel like she was obligated to do it.

"Alright, but.. you hate me," Peter said, looking up to see her completely unreadable face.

She finished stuffing the rest of the money in her bag. "I think you've got me messed up with Doc Oc," she said, wiping off her pants, getting ready to help Spider-man up. "I'm not like most of them, y'know. Us villains aren't all the same. Some of us actually do have some morals."

He watched as she looked around, muttering to herself. If it were anybody else, they wouldn't have heard her. But with his senses, Peter heard her loud and clear.

'God, give me strength.'

She held her hand out to him. "Come on, let me get you outta here, Spider."

Underneath his mask, Peter's frown deepened. "No, I got it... just go, okay?" He still had a hold on the bag with his webs. He was offering her a chance to escape.

"Don't be an idiot, dude," she scolded. "I just pistol-whipped you. Even if you swing, I'm sure all that wind blowing on your cuts and bruises wouldn't be comfortable..."

Peter blew out a breath. He knew she didn't really want this. So why was she so insistent? She was a criminal and he was the hero. Simple as that. Or at least, it's supposed to be.

But now she was helping him? Offering him a meal? He hated to admit it, but at this moment, he preferred criminals like Doc Oc or Green Goblin. At least they didn't confuse him like this.

But she's didn't seem to be going anywhere anytime soon. And he did still need to take the cash she'd stolen. So swallowing his pride, he chuckled. "Um, [Y/N]... look.."

-

And now they were in the Olive Garden parking lot.

She'd helped clean most of his cuts in her car (his mask only going up to his nose of course).

After he'd had a bit of time to calm down, he turned his face toward her. "So, um, there's no drive-thru?"

The villain scoffed lightly. "Hell no," she responded. "I'm not throwing my whole day off on you. We're movin' on my schedule bucko. And anytime I lose against you, and not get thrown in lockup, I go drink, okay? That cool with you?," you teased. "Or are you gonna tell me how unhealthy that is Mr. Superhero Guy?"

Peter huffed. "Well, you can go eat. But I'm not taking off my mask. I'll stay here."

"And let you steal back my cash? I don't think so," she retorted.

"So what?," he asked, frankly annoyed at this point. "Spider-Man just walks into an Olive Garden with a random girl?"

"Wouldn't be that way if you'd just take off your mask," [Y/N] defended. "Then it'd just be two random people walking into an Olive Garden."

"That's not an option."

Tapping on the dashboard, she groaned. "C'mon, I take my mask off in front of you all the time! You know who I am. Why can't I know who you are?"

"You don't care about keeping your identity a secret because you have nothing to lose. I'm not the same. I want my loved ones to be safe."

"That's implying that I'd hurt someone you love, Spider-Man. I'm not sadistic," [Y/N] corrected.

Peter frowned. "You literally pistol-whipped me about an hour ago."

"And I just spent that last hour nursing your wounds," she shot back.

"Sometimes you go out of your way to beat me up though."

"That's because sometimes you aggravate me," she laughed. "Occasionally, you deserve to get punched in the face."

"Whatever."

It was quiet again.

Until two minutes later Spiderman's stomach growled once again.

"Look dude, we could always pass you off as a overenthusiastic cosplayer?," she offered. "You wouldn't have to take off your mask that way, but you would get weird looks."

For probably the hundredth time since starting his hunt on her, Peter rolled his eyes. "Why do you want me to eat so much anyway?"

"I don't care about you if that's what you're suggesting," she said. "I just don't like people going hungry. And it's obvious you're not taking care of yourself." Her eyes shifted a bit. "And what's the fun in beating you if I'm not beating you at your highest, right?"

Peter chuckled at [Y/N]'s excuse. "Right.."

-

And now they were sat at a table. [Y/N] in a cute shirt she had in her car and some jeans. Peter still in his Spiderman suit.

Awkward, to say the least.

But the stares from waiters were the least of Peter's worries.

'What am I doing???'

He should've left hours ago. He should've grabbed the money and returned it and taken this girl to jail.

But the more he talked to her, and the way she nursed his wounds without question and gave him some food. It made him think of all the other things he hadn't noticed before.

How she only stole from the rich (which was very bad of course but way better than just taking from everybody). How she never went for kill shots, or even for spots that'd cause heavy injury.

She was a bad guy, yes. But maybe she wasn't a bad guy.

"I'm sorry for that time I shot you, by the way," she spoke in the middle of their meal. "It was meant to just be a warning shot. But you moved and it got your leg. It's been bugging me for a long time. That didn't take too long to heal, did it?"

Peter shook his head as he chewed his food.

"Good," she said. "Also for pistol-whipping you earlier today. I kinda got carried away."

"Yeah, I could tell. It hurts to chew right now," he said.

"Well my back still hurts from being thrown into a wa-"

"Why do you steal?," Peter cut in to ask.

Without any hesitation, [Y/N] responded. "It's just my way."

He frowned. "Just your way?," he repeated. "Haven't you-"

"Don't want a job. Tried them and didn't like them. And there's nothing more schools can teach me. Stealing has the thrill I love and it helps me to get around and, if the opportunity presents itself, to help somebody out."

Peter stared, dumbfounded. So [Y/N] was a good person...who just happened to like stealing? But then that else make her a bad person.

How could one person be so contradictory?

"You are an enigma," Peter marveled.

"Thank you," she replied, taking a sip of her wine.

When it came time to leave, [Y/N] paid and they made their way out of the building, actually laughing together and enjoying themselves.

They made their way back to her car. [Y/N] smiled. "Well, thanks for that, even though I never saw your face the whole time," she giggled. "Wait, does this count as a date? I'm sorta dressed up and you're probably in the best suit you've ever worn." She pinched at a spot of his suit on his shoulder. "Had a semi-fancy dinner-"

Peter held his head back and laughed. "I mean, I guess if you want it to, then it does. But I'm still gonna arrest you if I catch you again."

[Y/N] smirked. "And I'm still gonna steal, so.."

"Right..," Peter sighed. It wasn't like he thought he could actually change her in one night. But someone so insistent on doing a bad thing.

So close, yet so far...

Which made him remember..

"Oh yeah!," he exclaimed as he bursts off running towards the car, leaving a confused [Y/N] behind him.

She didn't get a chance to ask what he was doing before he kicked and busted the tires of her car and broke one of the windows to reach in and steal the bag of money inside.

Jumping onto her car, he pulled his mask up to right above his mouth. "Thanks for the meal! Gotta blast! Remember to stay off the streets!," Peter yelled before he jumped into the air.

Shocked, [Y/N] stood there frozen. "I-i, I-i.... I'M GONNA KILL YOU, SPIDERMAN!!!"

"You say that a lot!," he joked. "I'm beginning to doubt your commitment!"

"Ugh!"

-

"How'd it go, underoos?," Tony asked early the next morning.

Peter looked up from his computer with a unreadable expression on his face. "Hey Mr. Stark," he started. He furrowed his eyebrows. "I think I met one of those villains you used to talk about. The good but bad ones?"

Tony crossed his arms. "And?"

"I think we're kinda friends..."

[kuttanjal123]

DROPPED THE BALL

The relationship with Lebron had me change the perception of who I was and what I had become. I was living a double life. Although I dealt with being bullied by my classmates and at school for a while, I didn't realize it had affected me. He accepted me exactly as I was, but because he was popular and desired, I was expected to look a certain way. I didn't want him to face backlash, either. The medication had taken a toll on my ability to exercise and work out.

I joined him at the gym and became really conscious when I would run on the treadmill and lift weights at school. People would stare at me. I had to maintain an image, and it wasn't because I wanted to, but because society had drilled the thought of perfection into my mind. I guess I became a victim of the beauty myth. Lebron changed too.

"Look what I got you," he said.

"A present?" I asked excitedly as he handed a bag to me.

"Yeah, open it."

"A red dress!" I jumped. "Oh my, it's gorgeous!"

"Try it on. I wanna see how you look, my queen."

I couldn't get it on completely, and it got stuck in the waist area. After a while, Lebron called out to me.

"Baby, you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, just ... give a moment—"

Before I could react, I heard the dress tear a little bit. Yikes. I came out wearing it, and I looked terrible.

"What do you think?" I asked.

"The zip's broken. How did that happen?" he asked, looking at it.

"I tried to get it on. I guess it doesn't fit?"

"Hell yeah, it doesn't. I paid a lot for that."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Well, they ain't gonna take that back," he said, shaking his head.

"No, I'll keep it, don't worry."

"What's the point of keepin' it if you ain't gonna wear it?"

"Don't worry, I'll wear it."

"Whatever," he said, shaking his head. "It's like anything I get you, doesn't work out. And I wanted you to wear this to Olive Garden today. I guess I shouldn't do this no more."

"So can I—"

"Just put something on, and let's go ... I don't wanna be late," he said as he headed outside the door.

The one thing about me that I'd pride myself on is my temper. I think it's gotten better over time. I never took Lebron's comments personally because I looked for the good in people. And there was too much good in him. He probably wanted me to look the best tonight because it was his big day ... anyways.

"Can I have the Mushroom Ravioli?" I asked as I flipped through the menu.

"Really?" asked Lebron.

"What?" I asked.

"Don't you remember the last time you ordered, you couldn't finish that?"

"Yeah, I know, but I will this time—"

"OK," he chuckled. "I'ma have unlimited soups and salads."

"My man, it's your birthday. You can have what you'd like. You don't have to be so healthy," I said, smiling as we gave our menus to the waiter.

"Honey, I have to. I got games to play, and I gotta keep myself fit. I can't live like you," he said as he looked around.

Surprised, I stared at him for a few moments as he stared at the glass of water on the table.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"Nothin'." He shrugged.

"Do you not like the way I look? Do you feel embarrassed?"

"Nah ... I didn't say that. I just gotta watch what I eat 'cause I have a lot on me, and you don't."

"Ohh," I said softly. "So what is it that you have on you ... and I don't have on me?"

"Like I said ... health is important. I need to take care of it. You probably don't."

"I take care of my health with all the physio and walking—"

"I mean ... diet."

"So, you're embarrassed to go out and eat with me, huh?"

"Nah, now you just blowing things outta proportion."

"Why don't you quit beating around the damn bush? Tell me what this really is about?!" I said, raising my tone and banging my fist against the table.

By now, people had stopped talking and had begun listening to our conversation.

"Look," he whispered. "It's my birthday ... just eat your food, let me eat my food ... and let's go."

Sam and Mary suggested something that I thought I'd never do in my wildest dreams. But our relationship had clearly hit a roadblock, and I was desperate to fix it. And that's precisely what happened.

"No! I can't!" I yelled. "I'm not going to have sex with him!"

"What were you thinking? Be a virgin till forty? Gimme a break," said Mary.

"Sex is important, and I know you don't have casual sex. It's about time," said Sam.

"But shouldn't he express his desire? Isn't it the boys who say that?"

"Not always. Girls can, too," said Mary.

"But ... The Bible says being a virgin—"

"Trust me, I don't think you wanna follow that. You're religious, but it's time to think practically and emotionally—"

"And the Bible does say losing your virginity to someone you really, really love and are absolutely sure about being with ... isn't a sin," said Sam.

"But if you save it for marriage ... it's the right thing to do," I murmured.

"Do you love him?"

"Yeah! Of course, I do!"

"Do you feel connected emotionally?"

"Yeah."

"Then go for it!"

"So I should ask him?"

"Yeah!"

My heart pounded. Me? Sex? Now? I had to make this work. I drove to his house and knocked on the door.

"Make love to me?" I said as I hugged him.

"Uhh ... " he trailed off. "I mean—"

"It's OK if you're not ready."

"Nah, I'm good ... I just ... I didn't know how to go about doing this."

"Well, I'm ready and want to."

"Right now?"

"No, I mean another day." I shook my head.

"Yeah ... umm ... sure ... we can work something out," he said, looking around.

"I can get the stuff ready," I said.

I left for home and stopped by the pharmacy to get birth control pills. But I had to be secretive about it since I didn't want Dad getting into my business. I did feel that it was weird, but that would change once we did it. I was so confident. I was excited and nervous on the planned day.

When I got there, Lebron was shirtless and looked hot as ever. 

"You've got protection, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, how about you?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"So, are you really ready to do this?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's why I'm here."

What happened next was awful. I asked him to go slow, and he did initially, but after a point, I became uncomfortable because of our position, and any position we were in hurt my back. Each time I moved around the bed, it felt weird. I wasn't comfortable being naked in front of someone else in my own skin. I felt so awkward. I guess I should've prepared myself a bit more. It certainly didn't look like what I saw on TV. I stood up, embarrassed.

"I uh ... I think I should leave," I said awkwardly.

"Umm ... if you'd like."

"I'ma put on my clothes if you don't mind."

"Yeah, absolutely," he said as I turned around.

"OK, bye ... I'll see you later," I said as I hurried out after changing.

I ran downstairs and into the car, drove back home, and began tearing up.

I looked in the mirror and took off my clothes. The image, reflected back, looked different from what I imagined and perceived in my mind. I could see how the medicine had affected me physically. I had looked at myself in the mirror before and didn't pay close attention to what I saw because I didn't see what I saw now. It was a different picture, and I didn't like it. I felt humiliated and began crying harder. I cried myself to sleep that night and blocked Sam and Mary on my phone.

Dad asked me to join him for breakfast, but I couldn't. I just couldn't. 

"What's the hurry, Tiff? You haven't eaten breakfast."

"I gotta go, we've got a school project, and I need to talk to someone," I said as I hurried out.

At school, I couldn't control my stomach's noises. In fact, people looked at each other, trying to figure out what it was. I did, too, because I wanted to fit in. I ate salads for lunch and sat by myself. For dinner that night, I drank a glass of milk. It was a while before Lebron joined me at the table.

"Hey, about what happened, I just think we uh—"

"I don't want to talk about it," I snapped, eating the salad.

"Uh ... OK."

That weekend, our school planned to take us for a picnic. It was to Odum Falls. A lot of people carpooled. We sure did have a great time taking pictures and trekking. There was a campfire. Everyone had made great food, and it was a potluck. I piled my plate with ribs, steak, mashed potatoes, and everything damn thing that was there. I was starving. We were camping, and later that night, I rushed to the toilet outside in the woods, not too far away. Unfortunately, it was close to Mr. Khan's tent.

"Tiffany, are you all right?" he asked as I heard him knocking.

"Yes!" I called out.

I hoped he would leave, but he stood there till he needed confirmation. I could understand his concern.

"I'm good, sir," I said as I stepped out of the bathroom. "I guess it was something I ate."

"OK, would you like some water?"

"No, I got it. Thanks, Mr. Khan."

I lied. Obviously, there wasn't any problem with the food or digestion. I just realized that I gulped an entire plate of junk food and that was gonna add on a bunch of pounds. I couldn't let that happen, so I put my fingers down my throat to make myself throw up. When it was time to leave, it was a sigh of relief. But my parents began to have their hunches. I wasn't thrilled.

"Are you OK?" they asked, looking concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said firmly as I put on my shoes.

"I don't think so—"

"Why do you and Dad keep asking me that?!" I growled.

"You don't look good," said Dad as he crossed his arms.

"I KNOW WHAT I LOOK LIKE, AND I LIKE IT! IF YOU DON'T ... THAT'S TOO BAD!"

They tried to send me to counseling, but I didn't cooperate and displayed a lack of commitment. After some explosive, volatile arguments ... we didn't talk about it. I didn't say anything even though I heard all the whispering around me at school.

"Hey," said a voice as I took out my books from the locker.

"Leave me alone," I said shakily before walking away.

"I just ... I wanted to apologize for what I've done to you and start over. I'm really sorry for how I treated you. I've been really nasty. Since you're religious and preach about God, I would hope that you could find a place in your heart to forgive me."

"Well—"

"Can you forgive me? Please?" begged Brianna.

I stared at her for a few moments and then slowly nodded in approval. She hugged me.

"I'm having a party at home this weekend; I was wondering if you wanted to come?"

"I mean ... well ... uh, sure."

"Great," she said with a thumbs up. "And by the way, you look great."

But before I could say anything further, she walked away. I wore the red dress Lebron had bought me and managed to use pins to cover up the zip hole. It fit perfectly, and I felt so good.

"You made it!" cheered Brianna as I walked into the party.

"Yes, I did," I said, smiling.

"You look gorgeous. Where did you get that dress from?"

"Lebron got it for me as a gift."

"Cool. He'll be here soon."

The party looked colorful, and it felt great to be invited to something after a long time. Drinks, great food, and the best part, no adults.

"Hey!" called out Brianna. "I made you this drink to celebrate our new friendship. It's a fresh start," she said, smiling.

"Thanks, but I don't drink," I said with a faint smile pushing it away.

"Come on," she urged.

"No, I can't."

"I have a better idea; will you drink orange juice?"

"Sure, that's fine with me," I chuckled.

"Here you go," she said as she handed it to me. "Cheers."

I gulped the whole thing down.

"Hey ... " I trailed off. "That was really so ... "

The next day, before I left Brianna's house, I had to get home, wipe off the smudged lipstick, and tame my messy hair. All kinds of people passed out next to me in her house. A typical party scene. Seemed like we had a blast.

I'd never partied like that ... ever. People glared at me when I was in the hall, taking books from my locker, going to the bathroom, everywhere. Where was Lebron? Where was Brianna? I decided to call him. But he didn't pick up the phone. I drove to his house and rang the doorbell. He opened the door and, on seeing me, slammed it shut.

"Lebron! Let me in! What happened?!"

He opened it again, dragged me into his room, and played a video. In the video, it was me wearing the red dress at the party, dancing with someone else, and making out, he was fondling me, and it appeared as if we had a great time.

"What the fuck is this?!" he yelled.

I couldn't believe what I saw.

"Lebron ... I—don't know ... trust me, I didn't do this," I said softly as I watched the tape in horror.

"What the hell are you talkin' about, bitch?!" he yelled.

"I thought it was you! I saw you dancing with another girl, and I pushed her away from you so I could dance with you!"

"I wasn't even at the party! And you gonna think I'ma cheat on you?!"

"You—what?" I asked, puzzled.

But then it all made sense.

"She spiked my drink," I said, looking at him with tears in my eyes.

"Get the hell outta here, bitch!" he screamed. "You just lost weight, so you could seduce people to have sex with you! Just like what you did on that tape! How could you cheat on me?!"

"Believe me!"

"Bitch, if you ain't gonna leave, I'ma make you!"

"Listen to me—"

He picked me up, pushed me outside, and slammed the door on my face. I went home crying in the car. I was being accused of something I didn't do. I didn't feel like going to school and took a few days off. Mom came into my room to comfort me.

"Tiff, I didn't know your classmates were your enemies. I didn't think they would drive you to put your fingers into your mouth and take the food you eat out—"

"Huh?" I looked at her, stunned.

"What?" she stood with her arms crossed. "You think I wouldn't find out?"

"How—when?"

"You didn't lock your door when you were in the bathroom ... I heard you."

"You couldn't—"

"I heard your painful moans, your cries ... and as you did what you did, I couldn't help but cry with you."

I teared up and shook my head helplessly.

"Why don't people like me?"

"I'm sure you'll find people just like you," said Mom, taking my hands in hers. "But most importantly ... they'll see you for you and love you the same. Just give yourself a chance."

This was probably the most memorable and meaningful conversation I'd ever had with her. I hugged her instinctively but held on hope to my relationship with Lebron ... hoping he'd give me another chance ... and he did.

"So, do you believe me now?!"

"Nah, I wanted to give you another opportunity to apologize."

"Apologize?" I asked, startled.

"Yeah," he said, standing with his arms crossed. "And then we can get wild upstairs."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I want you to acknowledge your mistake, and then we go up and get down to business."

"Why should I apologize for doing something I didn't do?"

"OK, forget it, let's go," he said as he carried me.

"PUT ME DOWN!" I screamed.

"What happened? Isn't this what you wanted? To have sex with me?"

"I didn't come here for that," I said, shaking my head.

"Of course you did. Look, let's forget it and go upstairs. I just want to—"

"I wanted to have a mature conversation with you, and this is what you do? You still suspect me of cheating on you, and then you wanna have sex to make this go away?"

"Sex fixes things, baby."

"Hear me out, Lebron."

"Now what?"

"I lost weight the wrong way because I was ashamed of how l looked. People's words got to me, and so did your silence. After we tried to have sex the first time, and it didn't work, you knew I was upset because things got awkward, and you never comforted me. You never asked to have sex with me in the first place because I didn't appeal to you sexually. I was forced to lose weight to make both of us happy. You accused me of losing weight to sleep with other guys. If that makes me a whore, why do you wanna fuck me now?"

"Baby—"

"I ain't your baby no more. My mom was right. You never loved me. You just used me and never wanted me the way I wanted you. You've put me down, mocked me, and I let it go. You don't know to love, and I pray Jesus teaches you that. Goodbye," I said as I walked out the door.

Lebron Jordan was a closed chapter in my life, and after graduation, I had to find a way to move forward. I wasn't happy, and I just wanted to find happiness. I narrated what had happened at home and asked to attend a regular college since I wasn't prepared to compete and study hard. I didn't lose faith in Jesus but asked Him to help me find happiness.

"Which one are you choosing?" they asked.

"Brookside Community College. It's in New Orleans," I said as I sipped coffee. "I'ma go there."

"But you sure about that?" asked Dad.

"Yeah. I just wanna do whatever, you know?"

I lost myself and my identity to the one person I thought cared about me besides Mom and Dad. I was wrong, but he gave me the determination to get back up and move forward. Maybe I had to face a new journey, and it was to learn to love myself before I could love someone else. But how?