“If you stare at her any harder, you’re going to burn holes through her shirt.”
I brushed off Evan’s words. Good. Maybe your boyfriend will finally know about the things you do at night. I glanced at your high-neck crop top, feeling quite smug about the marks underneath the fabric.
Last night, I got carried away and kissed a more visible area of your body in a fit of passion. I hadn’t realized the damage done until we stood side by side and faced the bathroom mirror. A dark purplish line of hickeys trailed from your neck to your collarbone. It reflected the ones you left on my chest, my skin aching with love bites.
Your face went white with fear. I apologize half-heartedly, barely feeling a single ounce of regret for what I had done. I had the way you sounded when I made that kiss immortalized in my brain. The most beautiful orchestras could not compare.
But I digressed. I still had the sense to be scared that I crossed a line. The way you ignored me today was colder than it had been last week. You had put extra effort into pretending that I was a speck of dust, nearly bumping into me like I was a piece of furniture placed in the wrong area.
Or were you punishing me in some other way, brushing against my arm in the hallway?
My eyes trailed to your jeans, and I couldn’t help but smile. My marks were under there too, prominent against the pale skin of your thighs. You were still adamant about ignoring me, pressed against Harry’s chest as you removed a piece of lint from his hair.
I looked away as you shared a quick kiss with him. That was the difference between Harry and I. You could be in public with him and not be shamed for it. You liked having a boyfriend and the boost in popularity that came with it. He was handsome, masculine, and desirable.
Nothing like me.
I was a step away from ugly. If you were with me, people would ask what was wrong with you. It would have been different if I was hot. You would have abandoned him if I was pretty enough.
Unattractive as I was, I was sick of being in the dark. At first, sharing this secret with you was exciting. It felt like we were friends again, hands linked as we explored the woods at night. But we weren’t children anymore.
My body was changing. You developed early, your curves coming in at fourteen and swelling at fifteen. But I was seventeen when my body stopped looking like a bag of sticks. You didn’t notice this, at least I didn’t think you did. I still hid behind dark baggy clothes so the world didn’t know.
You have to forgive me. I couldn’t read your feelings at the time. I thought the universe was against me. So I tried to make you jealous.
It was petty, I know. I thought my friendship with Evan already accomplished this. But you never looked at us in that way. Even as I was getting closer to him, it hardly mattered to you.
I wanted love. It wasn’t a selfish thing, but I did think so at the time. I thought I only deserved the little you could give me.
So my eyes wandered. In hindsight, it was weird trying to find a girlfriend at school. I didn’t have much in common with anyone we had class with. But I couldn’t help but look at the girl with caramel skin and gold hoops, wondering if we had a future together.
Because I was certain you were going to abandon me. It made sense. If all you felt for me was lust, at some point you were going to get bored of sharing a bed with me. And I kept thinking about how easy it would be for you to find a replacement, someone socially acceptable and good at physically pleasing you.
So I started looking at Ariel. Other boys did too. A couple even tried asking her out with no success. I thought she was better than all of them.
It was quite stupid of me. I didn’t know she liked girls until she started looking back at me, but even then, I wondered if it was in a friendly way.
“You like staring at pretty girls,” Evan observed.
“They’re pretty.” Not like that was an explanation, but I didn’t think I had to give him one.
“You’re pretty,” he said.
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks. Now all of my problems are solved.”
“I’m serious. I remember how you looked on that date. With a little makeup and the right clothes, I can make you look better than these girls.”
“You want to give me a makeover. Who are you and what have you done with my friend?”
He blushed. “It’s just a suggestion, ok? My little sister has been forcing me to watch all these shows with her. Don’t judge me. You’ve got a cool skin tone so that means you suit jewel colored fabrics. Your features aren’t strong so you should wear light makeup. That’s all I can tell you.”
I bursted out laughing. It was every beauty quiz I had ever taken manifested as a teenage boy trying to mansplain clothing and makeup tips.
“Look, I’ve got a neighbor. She’s Asian, just like you. Sometimes I mow the lawn for her. Let her show you how these things work.”
“Wow, you really are being serious.” I fell into a fit of laughter again. I couldn't even come up with something as funny as this.
But after school, I followed him to his neighbor’s house and allowed her to give me a makeover. I didn’t know what came over me. He practically dragged me there, more excited for my transformation than I was.
His neighbor was a Chinese international college student obsessed with Korean beauty trends. She was happy to have me as her guinea pig, applying bright lipstick and glittery eye shadow to my face while pop music blasted in the background. Evan helped by bringing her makeup supplies as she worked, slightly flustered whenever their hands touched.
That’s why he wanted me to come here, I thought.
When she finished, I didn’t know how to feel about the face I saw in the mirror. I looked different, but I wouldn’t say I looked better.
I thanked her and walked home, scrubbing everything off my face. Truthfully, I looked like a clown.
You didn’t come to my room that night. In a weird way, I was grateful for your absence. I wanted to wallow in my misery.
The next morning, I did the unthinkable: I asked my mother to help me do my makeup. She practically danced to grab her bag, sitting me down before a vanity. In that mirror, I changed, blossoming into something I never thought I could be as she subtly made my lips redder and my cheeks rosier. Beautiful.
“I hope that boy asks you out,” she said, finishing her work.
I nod, unsure if I should correct her. I hope she asks me out too.
My mother helped pick out an outfit for me, a sleeveless red top with little ruffles and a simple black skirt. I squirmed in the car, unused to wearing something tight-fitted.
But in the end, it was worth it. You weren’t the first to notice the change. Ariel did and it had been enough to get her to stop staring and approach me. She wanted to go out with me, vaguely suggesting a skate park she frequented.
I thought that was what got your attention. Someone beautiful noticed me. It was enough for you to break your silence.
“Nana,” you said, interrupting her.
“Elle.” The air between us was charged with tension.
“You look different.”
“She looks good,” Ariel said. “If you’re interested,” she continued, pretending you hadn’t stepped in, “meet me there at three on Saturday.”
She sauntered away, hoops gleaming on her ears. I was tempted to go after her, to explain that you being here was a fluke. You didn’t like me like that, not in the way I thought she did.
But you stayed, planting yourself firmly in the seat across from me.
“I’m sorry,” you said. “I haven’t left you, but I won’t be seeing you for a few weeks. I’ve got swim tryouts and I don’t want anyone talking about any marks that may be on my body.”
It made sense. A logical person would accept her explanation and forgive her. But they didn’t see the words beneath her sentences, the complicated subtext of history between us.
“You’re not seeing me after tryouts, are you?”
I didn’t mean to say it outright, but I lost my patience. I was tired of begging for your affection.
“No,” you admitted. “I can’t. You know my plans, especially if I make the team. Also, I’m scared. If my dad found out about what we do at night, he’d kill me.”
You rarely talked about your father. It seemed like a convenient excuse, but in hindsight, I should have listened.
“You’re afraid,” I agreed, “but not of that. You don’t like who you are with me. It frightens you.”
“That’s not–”
“It is. I’ll stay out of your life. Not because you told me to but because I care about you.”
You balled your hands into fists, shaking. A tempest flashed through your eyes. You left before you uttered anything you might regret. For me, it was too late.
Evan took your place, a solemn look coming over his face.
“I can’t believe I was so blind. It was her all along, wasn’t it? You have feelings for Elle.”
I could have denied it. But that day, I felt bare, stripped of my usual armor.
“Yes. It was always Elle.”8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2ObhpIdi1p
