Skinny Boy ✔

Chapter 17: shirts

I let my phone ring out, turning the volume down so it wouldn't bother me too much. I threw my head back and groaned. Why can't you just leave me alone, Garret? The passing thought should have brought with it some sort of guilt, but my irritation that day was so strong that I couldn't be bothered with what little conscience I had left. I'd spent half of the summer already avoiding the messages from my friends as much as I could, and when I did reply, I would give them a reply that would cut the conversation short. Blunt yes's and no's, or anything of the likes.

Most of them had given up on me already, as most friends do when you ignore them during the summer and avoid human contact with your peers for as long as humanly possible. But Garret and Henry were a different kind of friends. They're the kind that doesn't give up on your friendship even when you do. They're the kind that texts you multiple times a week, until your answers dwindle away to nothing. But they don't give up just yet. Oh no, this kind of friend makes an effort to text or call you every week, even if only once. And just when you think they've taken the hint and left you alone to your own devices, they show up at your front door.

Garret is that kind of friend, and that is why he showed up at my door one early July afternoon. He was armed with towels and sunscreen, and geared up in swim trunks and sandals.

Before I could utter a word he answered my confusion. "Get in loser, we're going shopping."

That just made my face contort more. "What?"

"Have you not seen Mean Girls?"

"No," I smirked. Garret has that affect on people. You can find what he says humorous, even if you don't know what he's talking about. "We aren't going shopping, are we?"

He shook his head, inviting himself in and welcoming himself out of the heat.

Do you think this is your house now or something?

"I'm assuming you wanted to go swimming?"

"Ding ding! Congratulations, you guessed the obvious." He folded his arms and stared at me expectantly. When I raised an eyebrow at him, he let out a sigh, and said "Go grab your swimsuit already."

It was my turn now to fold my arms. "You just assume I'm going?"

"Like you would pass up the opportunity." He paused, squinting at me with a weird look in his eye. "Well, unless you have to go to the gym again. Because apparently you always need to as soon as I come over."

I rolled my eyes. What a drama queen. "No, I don't have to go to the gym." I went already this morning. Five hours. Seven to twelve. Every day. "And don't think I'm using it as a cop out."

"I never said that," he said, following me upstairs to retrieve my swim trunks. "You're the only one suggesting it."

"Sure, Garret."

"Gee, who pissed in your cheerios?"

I didn't realize how irritated my tone had been until he pointed it out. I'd been really agitated and on edge lately, but it wasn't an unpredictable mood.

There's a thing called 'roid rage' that most steroid users get. It's a side effect of testosterone. The bigger your muscles get, the shorter your fuse becomes. It's probably the worst side effect from the drug, because you don't always know when you're snappy.

I didn't think that roid rage affected me that badly. Looking back, however, has me wondering how I could have missed spotting the mood swings of a girl with serious PMS. Everyone could have pointed it out and I still would have denied I was acting moody.

"Nobody, I just don't like being accused of things." I snatched my swim trunks from the dresser and went back downstairs, Garret's voice still following behind me.

"I never accused you of anything, dude."

"Whatever," I huffed. I wasn't in the mood to carry this into a full blown argument. I kicked my sandals on and hoisted my beach bag onto my shoulders again. "Let's just go."

Garret started rambling about something he saw on the internet the other day, but I couldn't hear him over the loud, persistent thought that lingered in my mind.

My shoulders are too narrow. They aren't sharp enough. I need to work on them. That's where I need to put my focus on for now. Maybe I'll do a short rep of shoulder exercises later. Hopefully swimming will get me a little toned.

"Are you even listening to me?" Garret asked, climbing onto his bike.

"Huh? Yeah." I blinked my eyes back into focus.

He examined my expression as we hopped onto our bikes, but quickly gave up and started talking again.

~

I knew I would have to face it eventually, but that couldn't stop me from dreading the point that I would have to take my shirt off. That was the main reason for hesitation when I was invited to go swimming. While my legs were a big insecurity, there were countless insecurities on and around my torso alone. My shirt was my shield, a barrier between me and the rest of the judgmental world around me. Granted, it didn't shield me from my own judgment, but that was something that I could use as motivation. Or so I thought.

I was just grateful that Garret's family have their own pool. The less people that could see me shirtless, the better.

I made sure that taking it off was the last action I performed before hopping into the pool. The less time anyone could see my concave stomach, my dainty shoulders, and the lanky arms hanging from them, the better. So as soon as that piece of clothing was off my back, I was making a bee line for the pool, going as fast as I could without running.

"Wait up!" Garret called. He splashed in next to me, sending sprinkles of water onto my submerged face.

Maybe now I can relax...

Do you have any idea what happened next?

Girls. That's what happened.

I began to relax, unwind, and feel a little more comfortable. Even when I got out of the pool and reclined on a lawn chair, I remained shirtless, soaking up the sun.

He's my friend. I should feel comfortable around him. Maybe even confident. Why would he care?

But then, just as I was beginning to unwind, I heard the chirpy voices of a few girls. They were giggling when they came through the gate, and my instinct reaction was assuming that I was the one they were laughing at.

When they stepped out of the way of the sunlight, I caught sight of the faces. Two I recognized, one I did not.

"Who's that?" I said, nodding to the girl with mocha colored skin. When she stepped back into the light, I got full view of the freckles running down her face. They stood out beautifully in contrast to the sun.

"I forgot to mention, Sandra's bringing a friend along."

If I'd had known ahead of time that anyone else would be there, let alone a pretty girl, I would have taken more time to consider going over. Suddenly, I was having second thoughts.

My skin was still wet, but I didn't care. I scrambled around on the chair until I'd pinpointed my shirt and, ignoring Garret's fleeting confusion, threw it over my head and onto my damp torso. I didn't care that it clung to the damp parts of my skin.

I didn't care, because I had bigger things to worry about. Like a person seeing my insecurities.

~

Hey guys! I've no excuse for this being so late. I should have worked more on it. Thank you so much for your patience and your loyalty. It seriously means so much that you keep coming back to read this book. Thanks again. Your votes and comments seriously mean so much to me, and I always look forward to seeing your thoughts on it.

Question of the day: have you seen the trailers for Bohemian Rhapsody? I'm gonna go see an early screening for the movie tomorrow. I'm so excited!

Thoughts on this chapter?

Love ya <3 Have a blessed, wonderful, and productive week.