CHAPTER 1: UGLY GIRLFRIEND

NAYA’S POV:

“You’re…not very attractive, Naya. You’re quite ugly, and it’s embarrassing to be seen as your boyfriend. My friends laugh at you, and kind of make these jokes about me. I don’t think this is working anymore. I think it’s best we just split, you know?”

His words wafted through my earlobes, mixing together with whatever it is words mix with, then settling in my brain at a pace that’s too fast. Just too fast.

I blinked. I blinked again. With a violent shake of the head, I blinked my brain into functioning again. What? Not very attractive? Ugly?

“Huh?" My heart ached.

Gale, my boyfriend of 3 years, stared at me hard, his mouth opening and closing as though he was a baby. Pain flashed through his warm brown eyes before he cast them to the ground.

It was at that moment that his words hit harder than I’d expected. I waited though, waited for him tell me it was a stupid joke, the most expensive one ever.However, the punchline never came.

“Look, I've been able to keep up with it all this while, right? I mean, three years isn't a joke. But lately, it's been…" He sighed, running those fingers through his blond hair, his body shaking with a sigh.

“Lately, it's gotten worse and I can't keep with it…anymore."

I wished I could punch him, preferably with a brick or spiked baseball bat. I wanted to hurt him as much as the bleeding in my heart. Instead, tears fell from my eyes in its place and my bones grew weak.

The moments after that went by in a blur and only bits and pieces stuck to my memory. Like me wailing and smashing the furniture in his apartment. The TV. His stupid play station. Then running out the flight of stairs with my face drenched in ruined mascara.

I was out on the road - confused, broken, devastated.

A Porsche is parked by the other side of the street and out of it, a glamourous, beautiful lady stood tall. Even in my state of despair, I knew that face anywhere.

Cindy is here. Why is she here?

I looked around the street, looking long and hard to spot any cars since my ears have decided they're of no use. I crossed to the other side of the road.

Cindy had worn that careful voice she wore when her men called her. She'd act like she was rich, talk like it, and gosh like a lady during the conversations.

“Hey," I forced a smile immediately.

I was within earshot and waited for her to respond. She said nothing but kept on her call, her voice thinning further as she spoke.

“Hey," I managed again, waiting for her to respond.

Nothing happened.

I was quite certain I raised my voice. I didn't talk like a lady, so why wouldn't my voice reach her? Tired, I took a step closer with the intention of touching her shoulders to gain her attention.

“Alright if I bring a substitute in, I get my money, deal?"

A substitute for what? My brows formed a frown. Cindy was always making business plans. Always. I wondered what this one was about now.

“Hey, you," she called, dragging me out of my reverie.

Cindy was standing in front of me, a small purse clasped between her slender fingers and a smile on her lips. My best friend who just alighted from a Porsche, Cindy.

“What are you doing here? Don't want me snooping around your boyfriend's home?" She teased as usual.

At the sound of those words, reality claimed every part of my body that had been in denial before.

Everything Gale had said, the things I had missed — everything — crawled onto the surface and must have settled on my face. Because, the next moment, Cindy's voice was filled with concern.

“Honey, what's wrong? Why are you crying?"

I'm not crying, I wanted to yell at her. Why would I be crying? But the words refused to come out, my throat refused to function and I stood there, crying hard like a child, messing up my already messed up face.

“Oh, honey," she said, really tender, bending to my height, before crossing a long hand over mine. “Come."

Blindly, I stumbled towards the other side, wrapped in her arms as she led the way. In a few seconds, I was sitting in a taxi, head resting on her shoulders as we rode to a destination I had no idea of and cared nothing for.

***

“Did you find him with some hot blonde chick with fake boobs?"

We were in a bar whose name I failed to check, rock songs jamming too loud, while burning our throats with tequila - Cindy's attempt at drying out my sorrow.

Earlier, we had gone to a beauty store together where the artist had done her best at turning me into a model. It looked good but I didn't feel it. I felt ugly in every way, thanks to Gale’s voice at the back of my mind.

I felt like an idiot.

I shook my head in response. First was to clear my head because I was starting to feel drunk but Cindy said something about it helping. And second because I needed my thoughts to latch onto one another so I could share them with her.

“He texted me, said we had to talk and if I could come over. I wasn't really doing anything other than watching Tom and Jerry, so I got dressed and left." I rested my head on the seat of the booth, trying to gather my thoughts. “And when I arrived, we met at the door."

A dry, lifeless laughter erupted from my pursed lips, dying out just as soon as it hit the surface. I swallowed the emptiness in my throat before cleaning the tear that rolled down my left eye.

“Sounds crazy, right? I didn't mind and I didn't ask because I felt there was something he was doing that might be the cause. I didn't suspect anything." Cindy placed her hand over mine, squeezing lightly. “He said he couldn't do this anymore… said… he said that his friends… when I got there… oh, fuck it!"

I was angry. I was boiling with rage that I had never known before, and it was threatening to blind me, curve me into a ball it could kick in any direction it wanted. I didn't want that, so I forced myself to breathe until it was even again.

Unsure how to say this when looking into her eyes, I set my gaze on the glass in my hand.

“He said his friends were always taunting him over my birth mark and after three years, he couldn't do it again,so we should stop dating. He called me ugly."

With shaky breaths, I looked up at Cindy and waited. I'm not that soft for a person but I hated pity. I hated it to the point where even the tiniest sign of it made me really angry.

Cindy bit the bottom of her lip as she stared back at me, her high cheekbones glaring in the dim light of the bar. She blew out a breath and said in her natural voice, “And I thought I had seen it worse."

That comment, just that one comment made me cackle up so bad my insides rose in protest. By the time I finished, she held my fisted hand and stroked them tenderly and it made me remember the way Gale always ran his hands over mine whenever we were together.

I dragged my hand way too fast, too sudden, almost knocking over the glass in front of me. Cindy looked wounded, I was breathing hard.

“I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I just- I-"

“No, it's fine. It's absolutely okay."

“Just, memories," I tried again. “Gale, he, my hands, the way you…" and then I trailed off because I didn't know what to say again.

Because I hoped she'd understand the word I didn't say. Couldn't say.

“Oh, I'm sorry about that. I totally understand, I've had a guy before and I freaked out from those touches after he left."

I had never seen or heard this side of Cindy before. I was about to say something but she was already out of her seat and off to the bar to get us a drink.

She returned with two new shots of tequila.

“We're drinking this one to shitty exes!" Cindy declared as soon as she was settled.

Who would protest such? Especially when you're fresh in the heartbroken department.

“To shitty exes," we chorused as we drowned the glass in one full drop.

In five seconds, the music was less noisy. The noise was beginning to fade too. Ah, it was such a good feeling to get drunk and forget your worries.

My vision was blurred and everything else was blurring with it, but Cindy's voice always carried above things. Always.

As my eyes were shutting for a long sleep, I heard a built-up man say over my head, “This is her, right?"

“Yes, that’s the stupid substitute.”