Don't Get Me Wrong (Middle of Revamping)

Chapter 19, Part 3: Comethru

The same night in Tia's room...

Tia's POV-

Is it bad that I'm getting a little nervous that Neil's taking his shirt off? I mean, I've seen him shirtless a few times before. But this is different! It's just the two of us this time... Alone.

Neil grabs the two ends of his shirt and pulls it off. I can feel my cheeks getting flushed for some reason, but I slap myself to make it stop. 

He takes his shirt off completely, and I check him out shamelessly. How can I not? The man is pretty ripped if I do say so myself.

His torso is mostly still on the thinner side, but it's hard to deny the strong definition of his abs. His torso is long, thin, and built. But despite the contradictory words I just used, they all work together in this case. His arms are very defined though, and I can see his muscles protruding even more.

Okay, focus Tia.

 My god, I'm better than this.

My eyes widen I notice white marks that run across the lower half of his torso. They look like scratch marks, but I'm not sure. So I squint my eyes, and I realize that they're not from scratching...

They're stretch marks.

"Neil... you have stretch marks?" I ask him in astonishment as he nods his head lightly. I stand up and see them on his lower back as well. 

"How long have you had them?"

"Since seventh grade." He's been having them for 6 years?

"Neil, you may not believe me when I say this... but they're amazing," I stand up and put my hands on his shoulders and reassure him. Don't get me wrong, Neil's already a full course meal. But these stretch marks just make him even more attractive than he already is.

"That's a good joke, Tweet. But they're not."

"In fact, they're absolutely disgusting. I hate looking at them," he tries to grab the bottle. Using my reflexes, I grab the bottle before he can and throw it in the trash. Yup, the trash. He gapes as I walk away from the bathroom.

"What the hell, Tweet?" he looks at me in disbelief as I walk up to him.

"That isn't the answer to your problems. You don't just get over your problems by covering them up with removal cream. You have to bring it to attention and talk about them, Neil." I think I sounded like too much of a dictator there, but I think he got the message.

Neil sits back down, and I follow right behind.

"I don't cover my stretch marks up because I think they're disgusting," he starts off as I nod my head.

"They just remind me of so many things. I guess covering them up just takes away the pain," he explains as he grabs his shirt and puts it on.

Take it off, take it off, TAKE IT OFF.

Conscience, now's not the frickin' time. I'm trying to support my buddy here. 

"What do they remind you of?" As you can tell, I'm trying hard not to talk too much. You already know how annoying I can be, so I want this to be all about him.

"All of the shit I've done," he moves his gaze to look down as he says that. 

"Neil, you've never done anything wrong. Who said that you did?" Neil stands from the bed immediately, and I get a little startled.

"No one needs to tell me that because I know it myself, Tweet. I messed up so much in the past few years, and I don't think I can reverse it." 

Wait, I think I know what's going on here.