My Professor's Secret

03|

three

"What do you guys think about this outfit? Is it too much?" Lynn asked.

She stood in front of our mirror, shifting her weight from one foot to the other while tugging at the hem of her jean skirt for the third time. Like she could will it to grow another inch if she pulled hard enough. The way she kept adjusting it told me she'd already decided she didn't trust it.

Taylor looked up from where she was applying gloss, then motioned with two fingers.

"Turn."

Lynn blinked. "What?"

"Turn," Taylor repeated, like it should've been obvious. "Let me see the whole thing."

Lynn did a slow spin, still gripping the skirt, still trying to look confident while her nervousness leaked out in little movements.

Taylor nodded decisively. "If you don't wear it, I will."

Lynn's shoulders loosened. "Really?"

"With a shape like yours in that outfit?" Taylor added, like she was stating a fact. "You'll turn heads."

I watched Taylor while she pressed her lips together, the shimmer catching the light from our desk lamp. She said everything like it belonged in the world already. Like confidence was a language she was fluent in.

I'd never been the type to compare my body to anyone else's. I never understood the point of punishing yourself over genetics and habit and whatever else people used to justify feeling bad. In Dreycott, everybody looked like they came from the same mold. Same hair. Same build. Same small-town version of "pretty."

Of course there were beautiful girls back home, but hardly anyone exceeded a size five, so the desire to obsess over something you didn't have never really existed.

Until now.

Taylor's body had presence. Not just because she was gorgeous, but because she didn't shrink herself to make anyone else comfortable. Her curves didn't apologize. Her stomach sat just beyond her hips, natural and soft in a way that made her look real, and her thighs and hips filled out her jeans like the denim had been made specifically to honor her. She'd complained earlier about how hard it was to find clothes that flattered her without disguising her shape, and I believed her. Everything she wore looked like it was trying to keep up with her.

Lynn was the complete opposite.

All the curves framing Taylor's body, Lynn lacked. She was petite and narrow, like her bones were delicate, and her short stature made everything else about her look sharper. She could wear anything and still look like she'd stepped out of a magazine. That kind of beauty was effortless in a way that annoyed me slightly, even though it wasn't her fault.

Both of them were stunning in completely different ways.

And suddenly it was me who felt like the imposter.

I stared too long at myself in the mirror, at the way my top hung flat, at the way my hips didn't curve the same way Taylor's did, at the way I suddenly felt fourteen again.

"If I were a guy, I'd dig both of you," Lynn said, catching my gaze in the mirror. She winked like she was trying to lighten it. "Seriously."

Taylor snorted. "If you were a guy, you'd be a menace."

Lynn smiled, grateful to be pulled out of her outfit spiral. "I think I'm already a menace."

"Valid," Taylor said, popping her gloss back into her makeup bag.