Nothing To Prove

20 Stop. Trying. So. Hard.

"Do I have to?" 

The woman thought it was a joke. "You can bring your boyfriend too." 

"Who?" Cara gaped at Luka who was trying not to smirk. 

He looped arms with her, puffing out his chest. "You heard her, let's go."

"Have fun, kiddos!" Ashton waved like an obnoxious parent dropping off his kids at high school. Cara didn't glare at him over her shoulder. "Thank God you don't have to do this. I'd kill myself if I had to be around those people."

Right. As if I had a choice in the matter. The only reason I wasn't in Cara's shoes was because I wasn't good enough. Nobody wanted me. But Ashton didn't understand that. 

"Let's go have snacks, shall we?" I faked enthusiasm, taking his hand. 

Tiered desserts and finger-foods stretched across the flower wall. Reflective trays with colorful cocktails. Golden utensils and designer napkins. Flashing cameras and ring lights everywhere. 

Cara sat in a black silk robe in front of a vanity mirror. Like a Hollywood actress preparing for a movie. Professionals buzzed around her with admiring obsession. Blow drying her hair, painting her nails, applying eye shadow. Luka proudly answered questions for the camera beside her.

What if this was what she always wanted, but never voiced because of me? What if she fell in love with the attention and became a famous influencer? Could I be supportive? Or would I lose my only friend because of my insecurities?

"Do you think they'll get mad if I take that entire salami?" Ash whispered. He was eyeing the slices arranged like a rose on the charcuterie board. "It's the only meat option."

"I need to use the bathroom." 

"To poop?" 

I forced a chuckle, slipping away before he could read my face. Even the bathroom was luxurious. Black and white checkered. Tufted velvet couched in the middle. Vintage bronze faucets. 

I pulled out my pen and dragged a burning lungful of the chemical, begging it'd numb these unwanted emotions. 

"I swear, these events get stupider and stupider every year..." A familiar girl with short black hair and a latex mini dress strutted in. A blonde one with mermaid waves and a redhead with a stoic expression by her side. She gasped. "Sam? Is that you?"

The girls from Malibu. I couldn't believe she remembered me. 

"Hi..." I laughed, hoping the meltdown wasn't too obvious. "Erika, right?"

"Babe?! I didn't know you're going to be here, how've you been?" She threw her arms around me in a surprisingly strong hug before inspecting me head-to-toe. "A Sephora event? Way to go, that's a huge accomplishment."

"Oh, I'm just here for my friend. She got the invite." 

Sympathy glossed over her smoky eyes. "This must be so hard for you."

Tears rushed to spill, but I forced them back. "No, I'm happy for her." 

"Well, I hope she's being supportive. I would hate to see my friend hurt if I was invited to something she'd been working for so long to be invited to."

I would too, but I wasn't sure if Cara felt the same. She wasn't very open about her feelings.

"Social media is a toxic place. It ruins your mental health if you aren't in the right circle who understand what you're going through." The blonde girl chimed in. "You should join us!"

"Me?" I chuckled. "No way, I've seen your Instagram. You guys take bikini pictures, I barely feel comfortable in a dress..." 

Erika clicked her tongue with secretive amusement. "Maybe that's a part of your appeal."

"What do you mean?" 

"This isn't the place to talk, but..." She handed me a business card. "Come over tomorrow. Trust me, we've been through this. Constantly trying to prove ourselves on a fake feed that ruins your self-esteem. Now I never beg for anyone's approval. I pay my own bills. I do what I want and I never look at a price tag." 

She reached behind me and slid the exposed tag back in again. 

"You don't do porn, right?" I asked, scared it would be true. They burst out laughing. "I mean, I don't judge! It's, it's totally normal. Just not for me. I, I couldn't."

"No, babe. We don't do porn." Erika smiled. "But we make a lot of money. Enough to not give a fuck about Sephora or what any of these people think."

~

"What took you so long?" Ashton asked when I joined him again. 

"I'm done with this place. Can we get out of here?" Cara approached with Luka. 

My eyes widened at how stunning she looked. They'd put her in a black sequin gown that touched the floor. It shimmered like a dark princess fairy tale. Off-the-shoulder sleeves exposed her scars, which were painted with black intricate design up to her neck. She wore a crown on her head. Dark lips and makeup, a cold and indifferent face matching perfectly.

"You look breathtaking," I choked out, admiring her over and over again. 

"Everything itches. My ass is sore from sitting for so long in that uncomfortable chair, and my brain is numb from being asked the same dumb questions over and over again." She picked the mascara gunk out of her eyes. "I don't understand why this would make anyone happy."

"Are you talking about me?" I couldn't believe my hostile tone and judging from everyone's expression, neither could they. Great, now I looked petty. 

"I mean... if that's what you think would make you happy, then I guess, I am," she said. 

"How could you say that? Cara, we're friends. Friends don't talk like this to each other." 

"Talk like what? This is how I've always been. I haven't changed. The only reason I'm here is because you asked me to. How do you think it feels to sit over there and watch you walk into that bathroom like you're on the verge of tears? This is why I didn't want to come." 

"Let's not do this here..." Ashton pressed his lips together, pulling me away. "If we're done, let's go home." 

"What was I supposed to do?" I asked Cara. "Rain on your parade? Make you feel bad for your success?"

"No, just be fucking honest. I know you, Samantha. Stop trying to prove that you're a good friend. You ARE a good friend. I'm so tired of walking on eggshells. It's not fair." She threw her crown on the floor and stormed off.

~A/N~
Sorry, guys...