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I cocked my head, studying him, trying to figure out where he was going with this. He was right, of course. I knew there was nothing wrong with being overweight. That wasn’t what I thought of when I saw him, and it wasn’t something that made him less attractive to me, but when I had looked in the mirror when I was younger, my weight, my acne, everything I’d seen as wrong about myself had been all that stood out. Why was that? Why did it matter so much when it was about me, but not when it came to others? How could I get to where Spencer was so that I didn’t care?
“It’s not the names they called me that bothered me. It’s because to them, that meant something was wrong with me, and the way you laughed with them, the tone of your voice when you said you didn’t want to kiss me, told me you felt the way they did.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My vision swam. When I swiped at my eyes, I managed to wipe away the moisture, but it felt like it was right there, ready to come out again. “I didn’t think that. I just don’t know how to be like you,” I admitted. “I…”
Shit, this was hard. I didn’t often talk about my childhood. I sure as shit didn’t tell people about it, but I wanted to share with Spencer. Or hell, maybe it wasn’t want as much as feeling I owed him an explanation.
“I was a heavy kid…not just that, but I was awkward, clumsy, with terrible skin. Kids didn’t…they didn’t make it easy on me.” Another tear sat at the end of my eyelash. I tried to blink it away, but more replaced it. “They were terrible to me. Called me every name you can think of. It was torture. I didn’t even know what it was like to have a friend until I met Marcus online…and then I made myself believe he only liked me because he couldn’t see me.”
“Shit,” Spencer cursed softly. “You don’t have to talk about this. It’s not my place to make you relive your trauma.”
No, it wasn’t, and no, I didn’t, but…but I thought maybe I wanted to. That some part of me wanted to share this with Spencer.
“I need to,” I replied. “Anyway. Marcus and I got closer. He was my whole fucking world. With him was the only time I didn’t feel ugly. I played the trombone in the marching band—my parents made me. One time I fell and caused mayhem. Jesus, I was mocked for that, but then there was Parker and Declan, befriending me, defending me. They did for me what I didn’t do for you.”
“Because you’re still trying to figure out how not to feel like that little boy who was tortured in school.”
“That’s not an excuse.” Why would he even be sitting here in his bed with me right now? “You were right when you called me shallow and said I’m perpetuating dangerous ideals for kids. I weigh myself every fucking day, Spencer. I have issues with food. I obsess over every goddamned comment on Instagram. Negative ones will make me feel like shit for days, but I keep posting because I like the attention of the positive ones. I got work done on my face, all of it so I could feel better about myself.” But really, it didn’t work. Or it did in some respects. It was confusing. I knew I was attractive. I knew people wanted me. But I shouldn’t need that attention. I shouldn’t let my worth lie in it, but I did.
“You’re not shallow, Corbin. I was wrong to say that to you, and I apologize. You’re hurt. You’re a victim of a world who puts unhealthy beauty standards on people. Did your parents…?”
“They weren’t abusive. They didn’t try to make me feel bad, but they were always trying to get me to watch what I ate. They still do.”
“Do you have an eating disorder?”
I chuckled humorlessly. “If you ask Marcus, he would say yes. I would consider it more disordered eating than eating disorder. I’m not sure what it is exactly. I’m not anorexic. I don’t binge and purge. I eat meals, but I have a poor relationship with food and my body. I consistently count calories and macros, and it’s never far from my mind.”
“Do you talk to anyone about it?”
“I’m tired,” I replied, changing the subject. “Weren’t we supposed to be doing some cuddling?” It was easier to try and focus on that right now. “Unless you changed your mind. I would understand if you did.”
“I didn’t,” Spencer replied without hesitation, and pulled me to him. He laid us down the way we had been a little while ago, his arm around me. I burrowed into his armpit some, smelling the light scent of deodorant and man. It invaded my senses, going straight to my head, comforting me in a way it probably shouldn’t. Still, while he was offering, I wiggled myself closer and breathed him in.
