Page 26 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

I’mthe inappropriate toucher. And, yes, I do it to make him feel uncomfortable, but that’s only because I’d completely written off the possibility that we could...I don’t know...be something more.

This is not something I admit often, but Tommy’s right. I have the tiniest crush on him. But that’s all it is. A tiny crush because it’s stupid to develop feelings for a boy who has made it abundantly clear that he’s just not into me. But now his random actions are starting to confuse me. It may only be ten percent of the time, but it’s enough to sort of reel me in...and escalate the level of this crush to a little more thantiny.

“I’ve decided I want to go to Mars,” I announce from the doorway that leads to the girl’s bathroom. I don’t fully exit and stay there to lean against the wall.

“Any particular reason why?”

Dylan has walked straight out of my fantasies this morning. Dressed in a snug-fitting black T-shirt that shows off his biceps and a pair of jeans that round perfectly over his ass. His sunglasses are pushed up into his brown air and his woody aftershave lingers in the air.

Although my eyes are shamelessly wandering all over his body, I stay focused on the conversation. “I’ve read a book calledMen Are From Mars, Women Are From Venusand?”

“I know you didn’t actually read that book.”

“I saw the title on a Facebookpost, so that counts. Anyway, it got me thinking. If men are from Mars, that means the factory is there, so I’d like to go there and just change some of the standard settings on the newer models they’re pushing out.”

He nods. “Too many defects?”

“Yes. David from the lacrosse team asked me to go with him to Sean’s Halloween party, and after I said yes, do you know what he asked me?”

“Probably something offensive.”

“He asked if I’d feel morecomfortableif he picked me up in his mother’s minivan?”

He’s usually lighthearted when we talk about things like this, but today that comment makes him real mad real fast. “Please tell me you told him to fuck off.”

“I didn’t.”

He sneers, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Why are you always attracted to these assholes? You know there are decent guys out there, right?”

“The decent ones aren’t interested in me.” I wink at him, so he knows I’m talking about him.

“I can’t believe we pay so much money to come to this school and they can’t even fix the clogged toilets.” Audrey complains as she stomps down the hallway toward us. She stops in front of me. “Move out of the way, you fat whore! You’re blocking the entrance.”

I don’t want drama today, so I don’t even hit back with a sarcastic response. I simply shift away from the doorway, and she walks into the bathroom.

“That was unnecessary,” I say. “The other girls are so mean to me. Surely, they can be more creative with the names they call me. And why do they always go straight for my weight, De Lorenzo?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Isn’t that the thing girls are most insecure about? They probably want to hit you where it hurts.”

He’s not wrong. That’s exactly their intention when they say those things to me, but their efforts to make me feel insecure are futile. I’m comfortable with my body. I don’t care about their opinions because I don’t need their validation.

“But why do they hate me so much?” I ask. “What did I ever do to them?”

“Um...I’m just speculating here, but I think it’s because you sleep with all of their boyfriends.”

I gasp with fake shock. “No. You think so? And all this time I thought it was because I didn’t want to do that stupid TikTok challenge. Boy, have I been living in a dream world.”

He chuckles again. “You said that like you actually meant it.”

“Whatever happened to sharing, De Lorenzo?”

“It’s an archaic practice. We’ve done away with it.”

“That’s a shame.” I eye him curiously. “Do you think I’m fat?”

The smile falls off his face, and he looks nervous, unsure how to respond. “Uh...I think...I think objectively, you’re sort of...like, you’re sort of on the cusp of being voluptuous and...chubby. Shit, I’m sorry. Chubby is not the right word...It’s just...you’re a lot...of curves...I’m making it worse, aren’t I?”

Is it weird that I love how awkward this makes him? Maybe I’m being mean, but I want to push him a little further on the discomfort scale. “What about subjectively?”

---