Pretty Girl

CHAPTER 1

I press my palm against my stomach, feeling the soft give beneath my fingertips. It's not like I hate my body—I've spent years training myself to smile in photos, to walk like I'm confident even when I'm not—but it's hard not to imagine what it would feel like to have something... more. More curves. More attention. More funny jokes to make me more likable. More of whatever it is that girls like Nia seem to have without even trying.

The dress I bought online doesn't lie. It clings to my body but refuses to transform it. I tug at the hem, angling myself in the mirror, searching for the version of me that exists only in my head. It's not even a bad dress. It just doesn't feel right, you know? Like it was meant for someone else. Someone cooler. Someone who doesn't have to try so hard.

"You're doing it again."

I whip around to see Nia leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. Her emerald nails tap against the wooden frame as she watches me. How does she look like she stepped out of a magazine while I look like I just rolled out of bed?

"Doing what?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.

"Picking yourself apart," she says, stepping into the room. She's still in her sweats, her face bare, and somehow she looks flawless. It's unfair.

"I'm not picking myself apart," I say, turning back to the mirror. "I'm just trying to figure out if this dress is working."

"For Tanner?" she asks flatly, flopping onto my bed like she's already tired of the conversation.

"Maybe."

She groans, covering her face with a pillow. "Kira, why him? Out of all the guys, why Tanner?"

I shrug, grabbing my Carmex from the vanity. "Because he's hot. Duh."

"You know what else he is? A walking red flag," Nia says, muffled by the pillow. "I mean, come on. He flirts with literally everyone."

"So?" I snap, applying the gloss with quick, aggressive strokes. "It's not like I'm asking him to marry me. I just want one night. Is that so bad?"

Nia pulls the pillow away, sitting up. Her eyes narrow. "No, but Tanner? Kira, you deserve someone who actually likes you, not some guy who's gonna brag about adding you to his list."

Her words sting, probably because they hit too close to home. I turn back to the mirror, avoiding her gaze, desperate to focus on the reflection of the girl who is trying to make things work. I'm doing my best. Why can't that be enough?

"Maybe I don't care if he brags," I say quietly. "Maybe I just want to feel like... I'm enough."

When Nia doesn't respond, I glance at her reflection. She looks like she wants to argue but doesn't know how. The silence stretches between us, thick and uncomfortable, until I change the subject. "Did you hear back from that internship yet?"

Nia perks up immediately, her face lighting up. "Yeah! I got it."

"Of course you did," I say, smiling even though the familiar ache of envy twists in my chest. Nia's always been the golden girl—the one who gets what she wants because people can't help but love her. She's practically glowing right now, even in her sweats. Meanwhile, I'm still living with my mom, dodging creditors every time the landline rings.

Her family's well-off, too. I've only been to her house a few times, but it's the kind of place with white carpets and art that probably costs more than my entire apartment. She probably has a closet full of designer clothes she doesn't even think twice about. It's hard not to feel like the odd one out in her world.

We met in college when I was waitressing at this overpriced café near campus. Nia came in with some guy—her ex now—and accidentally spilled iced coffee all over me. She tipped me $50 and spent the next week showing up every morning with another ridiculous apology gift: a scented candle, a stuffed animal, a damn succulent. I didn't even like her at first—she was too perfect, too shiny, too everything I wasn't. But somehow, she wormed her way into my life, and now I can't imagine not having her around.

Still, there are moments like this when I wonder if she sees me the way I see myself: as the sidekick, the girl you keep around because she makes you look better in comparison.

Later, when Nia's in the bathroom getting ready, I lie on my bed, scrolling through old photos on my phone. There's one from last summer, taken at a rooftop party we went to. Nia's in the foreground, laughing at something someone said, her face glowing in the golden-hour light. I'm in the background, slightly out of focus, holding a drink and looking like I don't belong.

I stare at the photo for too long, my thumb hovering over the delete button before I finally close the app. It's not just about that one moment. It's about the whole damn picture—the fact that I'm not the one in the spotlight. I'm always on the edges, like the background noise that fades into nothing.

"You better not be sulking in there," Nia calls from the bathroom.

"I'm not sulking," I lie, sitting up and forcing a breath.

"Good, because tonight's about fun," she says, emerging in a towel, her hair dripping. She looks like a goddess, and all she did was shower. Her skin glows, her eyes are bright, and I hate her a little for it. Not really, but in this moment, I kind of do.

"Fun," I echo, forcing a smile. "Right."

"You know what fun doesn't include?" she says, raising an eyebrow. "Tanner."

I laugh half-heartedly. "Fine. No Tanner. I promise."

"Good," she says, flashing me a grin before disappearing back into the bathroom.

I lean back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. My mind drifts to the job interview I bombed last week, the stack of overdue bills sitting on the kitchen counter, and the voicemail from my dad that I still haven't listened to. It's been two years since I last saw him, but his voice still makes my stomach churn. It feels like a weight I can't shake, no matter how much I try.

Sometimes, I wonder if I'm destined to stay stuck in this loop—wanting more, but never quite reaching it. I can't help but think that maybe this is all I'll ever have: dreams too big for my reality, desires too far out of reach. What's the point of wanting something when I can't even get the small things right?

I look in the mirror again, staring at my reflection. I don't even recognize the girl in the mirror. I can't remember the last time I looked at myself and didn't see a stranger. Who am I becoming? Is this who I'll always be?

"You ready?" Her voice snaps me out of my fog of thoughts. Her eyebrows raised with a curious look spread across it. I swear she's staring at me like she saw something she shouldn't have.

I get off the bed, tearing myself away from the mirror. "Do I not look ready?" I say, brushing off the imaginary dust off my dress.

She rolls her eyes. "Stop overthinking. Come on, let's go before you start questioning whether or not you're wearing the right shoes."

I smile tightly, following her out of the room, trying to ignore the growing knot in my stomach. Maybe tonight will be different. Maybe it will be everything I want it to be. Or maybe I'll find myself sitting at the edge of the party, wondering why I can't ever quite fit in.

Nia's eyes scan me up and down, and I feel that familiar pang of inadequacy, as though my very existence is under a microscope. I pull my dress down again, tugging at it like it might magically smooth out the wrinkles in both the fabric and my confidence.

"You look fine," Nia says, though the way she says it doesn't feel entirely reassuring. It's as if she's trying to convince herself just as much as me. "But, you know, you don't have to impress anyone tonight."

"Maybe I don't want to just 'look fine,'" I mutter, more to myself than to her. But she hears me anyway.

Nia raises an eyebrow and takes a step closer, crossing her arms again. Her gaze softens just a little. "You're enough, Kira. More than enough, you know?"

I turn to face her, half-smiling, but it doesn't reach my eyes. She's always saying stuff like that, but I can't help but feel like she believes it in a way that I can't. She gets everything—attention, opportunities, praise—and it's all just... easy for her. For me, it's like I have to claw my way to be seen.

"Yeah, I guess," I say, forcing the words out. "But what if being enough isn't enough?" My voice cracks, and I look away quickly, trying to hide the tremor.

Nia doesn't answer immediately. She watches me, probably trying to figure out whether I'm asking for advice or just venting. After a beat, she steps toward me and puts a hand on my shoulder.

"You're enough because you're you. That's the whole point," she says softly. "But you've gotta believe it. You can't wait for someone else to do it for you."

I want to believe her. I do. But there's this knot in my stomach, this fear that no matter how much I try, it won't matter. I'll never be the kind of person who catches everyone's eye the way she does. And in the back of my mind, I can already hear Tanner's voice, smooth and playful, calling me "just another girl" in his collection.

That thought makes me sick.

I shake it off, pulling away from her hand, forcing a bright smile back on my face. "Okay, okay, enough pep talks," I say, attempting to change the subject. "We should get going before we're late."

Nia hesitates, her eyes still lingering on me. She knows something's off. She always does. But she doesn't push it.

"Yeah, alright," she says after a moment, pulling herself together. "Let's go. We're not going to let this night be anything less than what we want it to be."

I nod, not entirely convinced, but trying to believe it anyway. For her, for me—maybe even for both of us.

Later, as we step out of the apartment, the cool night air hits me, making me feel a little more alive, a little more like I can pretend to be someone else tonight. I pull the straps of my purse tighter over my shoulder and follow Nia down the stairs, trying to shake off the nagging doubt clinging to me.

I think about Tanner again. I don't even know why I care. He's not even my type. But there's something about the way he looks at me, like I'm just another fleeting moment in his world—a distraction before he moves on to the next. I hate the way that makes me feel, like I'm not worth anything more than a fleeting glance.

Maybe I am just another girl. Another nameless face in a crowd.

But tonight, I'm going to pretend I'm not. Tonight, I'll be whoever I want to be. Even if that person doesn't entirely exist yet.

As Nia opens the door to the car, I take a deep breath and step into the night, trying to believe I'm enough. Just for tonight.