“You can’t just be strutting around like that here, Lenny,” my roommate scolds me. My chest tightens. Why does he sound mad?
“I wasn’t strutting.” I’m standing here for crying out loud! How does that constitute as strutting? “I was getting something to eat before I go back upstairs.”
His hand goes through his brown locks as he evades my eyes like he only just realized he’s staring a little too much. Not that I was complaining. The fridge door has shut, so now they have a whole lot more to see in the form of a busty chest and wide hips.
“And you couldn’t put on clothes?” More attitude. My teeth grind.
Gordy murmurs, “Come on, man.”
“These are clothes,” I inform him defensively, hand waving at his best friend since forever, pointing out the obvious. “And it’s just Gordy. I’m sure you guys have seen girls wearing a lot less.”
Kyler groans and Gordy swallows his laughter at the not untrue remark. Heat makes everyone moody, but I’m not used to it coming from him.
It’s his next words that cuts off Gordy’s laughter and splinters my heart. “Well nobody needs to see that.”
Because, I mean, how can anybody not feel verbally slapped by that?
Suddenly, I feel way too exposed. My butt feels too big, my hips too wide, and my thighs too chunky. Embarrassment is long gone, and in its place is a deep threaded hurt as I wrap my arms around myself like it can somehow shield what he obviously feels offended over seeing. There’s a dish towel I could grab, but it wouldn’t cover much. Maybe it was stupid to think he actually enjoyed what he saw whenever he’d look my way since we moved in together. I’m not foreign to guys noticing me, it’s usually just the wrong kind of guys. Until now, it didn’t feel uncomfortable whenever I’d catch Kyler in the same act.
Gordy winces. “Kyler…”
My roommate looks at his friend before something flashes across his face and his eyes snap back to me. “Shit. I didn’t mean it like that. Len—”
“You might want to turn around,” I warn, tears stinging my eyes as I walk toward them in hurried steps.
It’s Gordy who says, “Hey, Leighton, it’s—” But I don’t want to hear whatever he’s about to tell me. Speed walking to my room, I close my door a little too hard and listen to the wall rattle. There’s no lock, and I’m not about to barricade it with furniture so nobody will bother me because I know there will be a knock on it regardless.
I barely have time to slide on a pair of ratty sweatpants when the rap sounds from the other side of the stupid wood. There’s an oversized tee in my hands, another old hand me down from Kyler, when the door cracks open with a soft, “Lele? Can I come in?”
“If that’s your way of asking if I’m decent, I’m not,” I murmur, sliding the shirt on and making sure I’m fully covered. My chest still prickles when I hear him sigh.
He takes a risk and peeks in, stepping into the doorway when he sees me standing there hugging my torso. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong down there. It isn’t what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” I snap. I’m not sure I want to know the answer. Another sigh comes from his parted lips as the hand on the knob moves to the back of his neck.
“You took me by surprise.”
“So you thought you’d embarrass me in front of Gordy? Great thinking, Kyler. I love being humiliated about my body.”
His eyes squeeze closed. “I didn’t mean…”
“What? You didn’t mean what?” I press, not letting him answer before I keep going while the iron is hot. “You made it sound like nobody would ever want to see me naked, and that is not true! Lots of people want to see me naked.” Probably.
His groan is heavy as he covers his reddening face. “I really, really didn’t need to hear that, Leighton. At all.”
“Why not? It’s natural.”
“You’re—” Once again, he cuts himself off. It’s probably smart to filter his words and choose them carefully at this point. “You’re just grown up, okay? You aren’t the girl I knew. Not even from three years ago. You’ve grown into…” More hesitated words. “It doesn’t seem like that kind of time can change a person, but it can.”
I’m not sure if the change he’s talking about now is good or not. So good he has to insult me? Doesn’t seem likely.
Shaking my head, I sit on the edge of my bed and watch him stick to the door. “You hurt my feelings,” I tell him.
“I’m sorry.”
I know he is, but the hurt isn’t just going to go away because he apologized. Now Gordy probably thinks I’m some ugly shrew who nobody wants to sleep with or something. I’m not ugly. Even Mom told me that, and she was obsessed with everyone’s appearance. I might even call myself beautiful, in a plain kind of way. Like a subtle beauty. Not that I would ever admit that aloud.
“Listen, Gordy and I wanted to talk to you about some things.” His hand goes back to the doorknob. “Can you come back downstairs?”