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“I think he would benefit from a dose of his own medicine.”
“Okay?” It comes out sounding like a question. I hold up a hand. “Wait. Is this a best-friend-sticking-up-for-her-best-friend test? Am I failing it?”
Lovey laughs. “It’s not a test, and you’re not failing. Let’s just try a different suit and see what happens.”
I nod, and she opens the bathroom door. Lacey and Rose are standing on the other side.
“We’re staging an intervention.” Rose holds up two scraps of fabric and a makeup bag.
“It’s like we’re telepathically communicating.” Lovey presses her hand to her chest. “I was just telling Winter we needed a wardrobe change.”
Rose smiles at me. “We also talked about how we needed to take you bathing-suit shopping this week because this black number, while very practical, isn’t doing the body you’re rocking justice.”
“You were talking about my bathing suit?”
“Lacey and I were actually talking about how awesome your legs are, and then we got on the topic of bathing suits and how you make a completely functional suit look hot and how we needed to expand your bathing-suit game. Which we’re doing right now, so BJ can get an actual clue. These fucking girls need to move along.”
Rose tosses the bikini at me and pulls Lovey out of the bathroom. “Change into that. When you’re done, let me know so I can give you dramatic eyes.” She holds up her makeup case, then shuts the door in my face.
I stare at the scraps of fabric. There really isn’t much to this bikini. Still… A lot of girls have been hugging BJ. And doing the hair-flip-giggle shit. I shuck off my shorts and pull on the pale pink bottoms. I’m grateful that they’re held together by more than a string at each hip, but the crisscross half-inch bands leave a lot of skin exposed.
The top covers most of my boobs, but also gives me cleavage, which I don’t have a ton of. I gotta give it to Rose—this is an infinitely sexier suit than the one I was wearing. And my entire ass isn’t on display, so that’s a bonus. I’ll call this an acceptable compromise.
I open the door.
“Fuck, yeah. I’m a goddamn magician.” Rose does jazz hands by her crotch.
“This is perfect. Lavender would be so proud,” Lacey says.
“I miss her,” Lovey sighs. “But you’re right. She would be damn proud.”
I clear my throat. “I have one thing I want to say before we move forward with this questionable plan.”
“It’s a rock-star plan, not a questionable one, but feel free to voice your concerns.” Rose makes a go-on motion.
“We’re all acknowledging that I’m basically asking for people to look at my body in an objectifying way?”
The three of them exchange looks.
“We’re weaponizing your assets,” Rose says. “BJ is out there shirtless, all his pretty muscles and tattoos on display. This is no different. And before you go defending your previous bathing-suit choice, or coming at me with more female empowerment, do-I-want-to-succumb-to-the-patriarchy nonsense, let me ask you this: Do you feel sexy?”
“Uh, yes?”
“Seriously, when you see yourself in the mirror, do you think: ‘I worked hard to have an ass that’s the envy of all my friends. As a strong, independent woman who believes in equity and freedom of self-expression, do I like the way I look in this hot-as-fuck bikini?’” She pauses. “The answer to that should be yes. And, yes, we’re all acknowledging that you’re showing off the goods. One day our boobs aren’t going to hold themselves up anymore. We should give them a chance to be appreciated for their outstanding ability to defy gravity.”
“Great speech, Rose. I vote you president of the bikini association,” Lovey says. “Can we get Winter’s eyes done so we can get back out there?” She thumbs over her shoulder.
All three of them cram themselves into the bathroom with me, and five minutes later I’m wearing dramatic eyeliner that’s apparently water- and smear-proof and clear mascara. Rose undoes my braid, setting my hair free in kinky waves. She props a fist on her hip and shakes her head.
“What?”
“You’re fucking gorgeous. Let’s go turn some heads, ladies.” She snaps her fingers, and we file out of the bathroom, our slides slapping an out-of-sync beat on the concrete.
“I feel ridiculous,” I mutter to Lovey.
“You don’t look ridiculous,” she replies. “Let’s consider this an experiment in cisgender straight male behavior.”
We return to the pool, stopping at the cooler to refill our drinks. Our previous chairs have been taken by a new group of girls, two of whom hugged BJ earlier.
