Okay, I could try this.
I put on the trunks, shivering a little in the air conditioned cool of the store. They weren’t as skimpy as some of the stuff Zach tried on but shorter and tighter than anything I normally wore while swimming. The dark red color wasn’t flashy but there was something obscene about it just because of what I was doing.
While I didn’t preen as much as Zach, I turned to the side, and okay, my ass looked fantastic.
I started simple, just taking a shot of my midsection in profile or zooming in on something that I thought Ryan might want to see. Some self-consciousness lingered, so I didn’t think the pictures would be obscene, that I would get, ahem, excited enough for that.
But then I imagined Ryan looking at the images I took, getting that crazy yet attractive grin on his face or better yet, a blush rising to his cheeks as he became speechless. Definitely a huge ego boost to make someone like him go temporarily mute.
After sending the first group of pictures, I decided to send more. Maybe I was getting kinda into it. I ran a hand down the front of the swim trunks a few times, thinking about moving the material lower and lower as things progressed—
There was a rap on the other side of the dressing room as someone knocked and I totally jumped. “I’m glad you took my advice,” Zach said from the other side of the door. “However, I didn’t think you were going to show your work.”
What? Oh god… No. I closed my eyes tightly and prayed that what he was implying wasn’t true, even as I knew it was, and god, could things get any worse? At least I didn’t send anything to my dad. No, still couldn’t think about that.
“I’d say solid B,” Zach continued. “There’s potential but you need to learn more about angles and up your filter game.”
My head fell forward, thunking on one of the walls of the dressing room and resting there while I made a pathetic noise. I wanted to stay like that until I became a statue or something because statues couldn’t be embarrassed, could they? My phone started blowing up and while I didn’t want to look at any of the messages, I still had to move and stop doing a statue imitation to turn the ringer off.
My face felt like it was on fire. I wanted to huddle into a ball and die and this was an unusual feeling for me. Is this what it felt like to be my boyfriend? He embarrassed himself constantly. Maybe he had a tolerance. I didn’t.
Did you mean to put those in the group chat? Said boyfriend asked via text.
I obviously didn’t. Is that all you have to say?
A glimpse at some of the other messages coming in told me that Lydia and Alicia were basically catcalling me, or the equivalent of that in a text message conversation, and I had no idea if their comments were sincere or meant to embarrass me, but I was pretty much going to be embarrassed whenever I had to look any of them in the eye ever again, so goodbye eye contact.
I could use some compliments from my boyfriend. I told him that and he texted back, Well, I hardly have the time to look at the pics as all our friends are blowing up my phone with their comments and I might succumb to embarrassment at any moment.
He was embarrassed? How do you think I feel? I sent him.
Like silk, he responded back immediately and just like that I was smiling. I still felt totally humiliated but I was smiling anywaybecause Ryan had that exact effect on me sometimes. You have very nice skin, but now isn’t the time.
I got a text from Joey. Just because I was curious once doesn’t mean I need to see that. And if I had to pick, Zach wears it better. I stared at that message for a moment. Then another one from him arrived. 10000000% no homo.
Um, why are you telling me that? Did I want to know? Not at all but at least it was something else to focus on for a moment. Also rude. Zach had better filter game and an understanding of angles or whatever, but that was style not substance… wait, was this even a contest I wanted to win? How did this become a contest anyway?
He asked and snapped me a pic, Joey responded. Thought it was some weird gay contest.
And of course, that was when a sales assistant knocked on my door and asked if everything was okay in here.
I’ve used the expression FML or fuck my life before, it’s a pretty handy phrase, but I don’t think I’ve ever meant it as much as I did in this moment. FML. My boyfriend couldn’t even enjoy the pictures, I only made things more awkward, I never got to look my friends in the eye again. And to top it off, Zach wore this look better.
Just freaking fantastic.
Fuck. My. Life.
