Jessie was putting more thought into this than Kincade, and I felt a surge of affection for him.
“I don’t put my body on display because I don’t want to,” I said.
“Then why did you tonight?” Brock asked.
“Well, tonight, uncharacteristically, I wanted to. Well, I both did and I didn’t. But the trust I have for you guys pushed me toward it.”
“Was that all it was?” Jessie asked. “Or did we make you feel pressured by buying the bikini for you in the first place?”
“And making you promise you’d wear it at some point,” Brock said.
“No, I didn’t feel pressured—but thank you for asking.” I bit my lip as I thought about how to phrase it. “I don’t think I’m all that influenced by that kind of pressure. I’ve never been the type to think, oh, this guy bought me a steak, therefore, I have to sleep with him.”
“Are you sure?” Kincade asked, his eyebrow raised. “Because I think we can get a steak from the lodge.”
“Don’t joke about that,” Brock snapped, and Jessie splashed Kincade, sending a wave of water directly toward his face.
“Sorry,” he said. “But I feel like I’m not getting it.”
That was honest, at least.
He looked at me. “Don’t get offended, okay?”
I nodded, giving him the benefit of the doubt though I wasn’t sure what he was going to say.
“But you seem like you have… body issues, I guess it’s called.” I nodded, and he continued. “Is that the fault of men like us?”
His words hit me hard, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure how to answer for a while. “Yes and no.”
“If it’s even partly my fault, I want to know.”
His words touched me. “Part of it starts with me, I guess. I don’t like the way I look.”
“You should,” Jessie said.
“You meant that as a compliment, right?” I asked, and he nodded. “But shouldn’t everyone be okay with the way they look? Whether others approve or not?”
“In an ideal world, yes,” Brock said. “But a lot of people do care what others think of them.”
“Because of low self-esteem?” Jessie asked.
“Maybe. Or maybe because sometimes the world won’t shut the hell up and stop handing out opinions on their body.”
“What do you mean?” Kincade asked.
“Women get judged on their looks every day. Whether they’re dressed up and want to look hot or whether they’re just running into the grocery store for milk with no makeup and their hair up in a bun. Either way, they get judged.”
“That sounds exhausting,” Brock said.
I nodded. “It’s like people think they know you based on the most superficial of reasons. And since they think they know you, they feel free to judge.” I sighed. None of this was coming out right, but it was important to me, and I wanted them to understand. “Maybe you guys do understand a little. You’re good-looking men. You must attract a lot of attention, from women especially.” It was a mark of the seriousness of the conversation that none of them preened—or even pretended to—at my words.
“That’s not the same thing,” Brock said. “We can escape it—it’s not a twenty-four seven thing for us. So when it does happen, it’s flattering. And fun. Because expectations are different for us. We don’t get judged the way you women do.”
“Sometimes I feel like I can’t escape it.” I took a deep breath as I tried to decide how much deeper I wanted to take this. Some of this was stuff I’d never told anyone. But then I looked at Kincade’s rapt face. He was trying to understand. So was Jessie. I couldn’t see Brock’s face, but his hands had stilled and were resting on my shoulders, showing that he was listening. “Mostly, I can’t escape it because of these.” I cupped the underside of my breasts lightly. “Whether I’m wearing my favorite dress or my baggiest sweatshirt, they attract attention.”
“Unwanted attention,” Jessie said softly.
“Usually.” That wasn’t always true. I wouldn’t have put on the bikini if I hadn’t wanted some attention from these men tonight. But other times, my looks, my breasts, and sexuality was the last thing on my mind. “Some days I’ll just be doing the most normal of tasks and some creep will think that my body is something he has the right to see or comment on.”
“I’m sorry, Maddie.” That was from Jessie.
“It gets old quick. It can range from frustrating to scary.” I stared into the bubbly water as I tried to explain it. “It can be as simple as a man telling me to smile. He thinks he’s trying to get me to cheer up, but the truth is, he doesn’t know if I’m down or having the best day of my life. The smile is for him because he wants to see it.”
“I’m never telling any woman that ever again,” Kincade swore.