leaked (l.h.)

18

My hair keeps getting stuck in the lipgloss as I walk across town. I try holding it back, but somehow some strands always escapes. I find it kind of funny, how much I have changed since May. I used to hate being bare faced to school, my eyes would be perfect. My lips pink and my cheeks covered in blush. But lately, I don't need makeup to have pink cheeks.

The ladies at the secondhand store I tend to frequent quite a lot don't know my story. They don't care about my ex leaking my nudes, or the scandal that was him and I. They don't look at me like I'm some sort of kicked puppy, because they just haven't heard. Nor do they care, all they worry about how warm I dress for July. But Tyler sort of took my confidence to wear revealing clothes with him, and although I know my mind is playing tricks on me I feel like people are always staring through my clothes. And wearing long-sleeved baggy clothes helps me ease some of that worry.

But today... today I wear a dress. A low cut dress, but not too revealing. It's flirty while still being modest. Not to mention how much I love the color white on me.

I wish I could say the same about the family that runs the farmer's market in the middle of the plaza downtown. Everyone there knows my story, and everyone there won't hesitate to remind me of it. They mean well, but every time I find an extra carrot or two in my wool shopping bag I only know that he feels bad for me. Which, I guess, has it's perks.

I've been here quite a lot since I've started cooking to pass the time. Shopping for produce here, in the middle of the town square, was intimidating at first. But everyone knows of me, barely anyone can recognize my face. Besides the owners, of course. Their daughter was once in my biology class.

"Strawberries and potatoes today?" The owner asks as I grab a carton or two from his neatly-stacked stock. "Are you making something different?"

"It's a friend of mine's birthday today," I respond, pulling out ten dollars from my wallet. "I'm making him breakfast."

"He must be a good friend," he smiles softly, wrinkles on either side of his clean-shaved mouth. He's the typical farmer around here, overalls and some sort of flannel. But he's kind, and although he knows my story he also sees right past it. As if I'm a human or something. "If you're coming all the way over here to buy your ingredients."

"I'd say so," I smile, gently placing the items in the bag I carry my butter, sugar, flour, and olive oil from the stall a few spots before this one. I'm not sure how scarce his kitchen situation might be, but I'd assume that his family could use these items more than once.

"Have a nice day, young lady," he says like usual, sending me a cheeky grin with a toothpick between his lips. I nod as I back away from the table, bringing the bag back up on my shoulder and holding his gift bag in my free hand as I make the even-longer walk to Luke's home.

"I can drive you here, if you want." I see Luke's message as it appears on my phone. "It could be a long walk."

"I don't mind," I respond, smiling softly as I feel the warm breeze across my exposed arms and legs. "It's a beautiful morning." I add a sunshine emoji to the end. You know, for flare.

"Whatever you say, sunshine." He writes back almost immediately, and as he calls me this name I can't help but feel my cheeks redden. I love it when he calls me nicknames. I don't think there's anything he could do that I wouldn't love.

God, he gives me butterflies.

I tuck my hands into my dress pockets as I walk, staring down at my adidas shoes while the wind blows in my hair. Curled, and the small coils bounce with each step. My eyes feel weird with the mascara layered on the lashes, but I feel good. For the first time in a while, I feel desirable. I don't feel dirty or damaged. I'm happy.