Page 50 of Becoming Us
My fingers trembled as they threaded through my damp hair. I shut my eyes tight and held my breath.
Your appearance doesn’t dictate your worth.
Your appearance doesn’t dictate your worth.
Your appearance doesn’t dictate your worth.
I repeated it like a mantra, over and over, until the sting behind my eyes dulled and I could breathe again.
“You’re fine,” I whispered to the empty space. “You have other clothes. Pick something else.”
See? Reasonable. I could be reasonable.
I stepped out of the bathroom—bare chest, jeans still open—and stopped cold.
Atty sat on my bed.
My stomach dropped. His eyes widened, then scanned down my body. Of course. Of fucking course.
“You scared me. I didn’t hear you come in.” I tried to force a smile.
Every inch of my insecurity was laid bare for the one person I only ever wanted to see the best parts of me.
His pale eyes lifted to meet mine. “Ezra let me in. Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Just—give me a sec, I need to change. Be right out.” I turned toward the closet, spine stiff, willing my hands to stop shaking as I flipped through hangers, desperate to find something that actually fit.
Behind me, the bed creaked. Atty’s presence drew closer, and then his hands landed gently on my shoulders. He leaned in, lips brushing just below my ear.
Not now. Please, not right now.
“We could stay in. If you’d like,” he murmured, voice low and careful. One hand drifted to my side. He stepped in close, his chest pressing against my back. Then his hand shifted like he meant to bring it over my stomach.
I flinched and caught his wrist mid-movement, pushing it away. “Don’t.”
He went still behind me, then stepped back slowly. I snatched the first shirt I saw and tugged it over my head.
When I turned, he was back on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. His lips pulled into a quiet, disappointed frown.
Great. Fucked up again, didn’t you?
I stepped between his legs and cupped his jaw, guiding his face to mine. Before he could speak, I kissed him. He melted into it, but the hands on my hips weren’t pulling me closer—they were keeping me at arm’s length.
I pulled back just enough to rest my forehead on his. “I’m sorry, Atty. I just need a minute, okay? I’m having a shitty day over something stupid that has absolutely nothing to do with you, and I need a moment to sort through it. Once I do, I’ll tell you everything.”
It took a beat, but he nodded.
“Can you just…?” He hesitated. “Can you at least tell me what it’s about? Like, the general idea?”
I drew in a deep breath. “These jeans don’t fit.”
Silence.
Atty leaned back, brow lifted, staring up at me.
I let out a quiet laugh. Couldn’t help it.
“Are you serious?” he asked.
