“She still thinks I’m sweet and innocent.”
He laughs. “Exactly.” He turns onto our street. “I’ll back you up if you’re sure. She’ll be upset, but she’ll respect it.”
“Respect what?”
“Her daughter posing in lingerie on the Internet.”
“I’m not… it’s not a new career.”
“Are you sure about that?” he asks.
I… well… no. The photos are getting a great response. The lingerie company is happy. I have a check for four thousand dollars on the way.
It’s possible.
Yeah, it’s scary being so, well, naked, but it’s exciting too. And it’s… okay, it’s not exactly heroic, but I want other bigger girls to feel beautiful too. I want to prove I’m just as sexy as any size two swimsuit model.
Even if I don’t believe it all the time.
“I am sure,” I say.
He offers me a fist bump. “Then we’ve got this.”
I tap my fist with his. “You’re such a dork.”
“Yeah, but your friends still think I’m hot.”
“Oh my God.” I hide behind my hands.
“Hey, those are good genes you inherited.”
“So not talking about this.”
“Asian women age well.”
“Mom is white.”
“Your mom is as beautiful as the day I met her.”
I roll my eyes. “Should I tell her you said that?”
“Sure, but I tell her every day.”
He does. It’s sweet. And cheesy.
They’re sweet and cheesy.
I check my cell as he parks. I have a text from Forest.
Forest: Probably won’t get a real chance to talk for a while. I’ll be at my dad’s place after dinner. In my room. Waiting. Come without underwear.
“Your boyfriend?” Dad asks.
“It’s nothing.”
“Your sexuality is—”
“We are so not discussing this.”
Dad puts me to work cooking.
Holden and Ariel keep Forest busy. Then Mom gets home and she tells me we’ll talk later.
She’s polite during dinner. She asks Forest all the usual questions. Like he’s a stranger and not the guy who’s been my best friend forever.
What do you do? (Tattoo artist) How is work? (Good, the new shop is doing super well) Where do you live? (In a one-bedroom in West LA) And how much do you make? (He has to check his tax returns) Do you want children? (Yes) How many? (It doesn’t matter, as long as they’re loved) Will one of you stay home? (Probably not).
Even though Forest answers flawlessly, it’s pure torture.
After many servings of marinated beef and many cups of after-dinner tea (dessert is reserved for special occasions in Korean culture and Mom doesn’t like sweets), my parents dismiss Forest.
Then Mom turns to me and brings up the pictures.
It’s a long, long, long lecture.
Yes, she respects my choices and she wishes we lived in a world where women could show their body without consequences, but that isn’t our world, and I need to be sure.
Is this boy really good for me?
Do I know what I’m doing with my life.
I wait for her to finish. Then I say it.
For the first time, I say, “I’m going to take photos. And model. I’m going to be a plus-size model.”
She looks at me, impressed. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah.” For once, I am. For once, I know what I’m doing. For once, I have direction.
“Then I’m happy.” She hugs me. “And this will pay enough for you to move out?”
Dad chuckles. “Bee, if she moves out, she’ll have more time with that boy.”
“Remember when we were her age? Nothing stopped us,” Mom says.
Gross.
Then they’re trading sweet nothings. And probably dirty nothings.
I say goodbye and practically run to Forest’s place.
It’s quiet downstairs. I slip out of my panties, drop them in my purse, move to his room.
My knock is soft.
He doesn’t answer.
So I knock louder.
Still nothing.
I push the door open.
Sure enough, he’s spread out over the bed in only his boxers.
Sleeping.
I find a spare t-shirt in his drawer. Then I change into my favorite pajamas and I climb into bed next to him.
Chapter Thirty-One
Forest
Light streams through the window. It falls over my black desk, my white walls, my plain sheets.
Skye’s curvy body.
Shit.
So much for my promise to fuck her properly.
Not that I can complain about sleeping next to her.
I slide my arm around her waist. Pull her body into mine.
She melts into my chest like she belongs there.
She does. Right now, it’s obvious. Right now, it’s the most obvious thing in the universe.
I need to make her smile.
I need to make her laugh.
I need to make her come.
“Mmm.” She stirs as I pull her closer.
“Go back to bed, princess.” Yeah, I want to fuck her. God how I want to fuck her. But I want this too. Skye relaxed, happy, at peace.
The way she is when she drinks a matcha latte. Or when she steps behind the camera. Or when she watches Before Sunset.
God, she loves that movie.
After a dozen viewings, I get the appeal. But it doesn’t hit me the way it hits her.
I love it because she loves it. Because every time we watch, I see her eyes light up. I hear her laugh, gasp, cry.