Page 171 of Fifty First Times (Sharing You 0.40)
Get it together, Anna. This boy wants nothing more than to get his hands on you.
In my head, I knew it. But my body didn’t. I forced myself to step out of my sandals and grabbed the lower edge of my top. I was just about to yank it upward when my whole body froze. I flashed back to the moment I let the girls out of my bra, and nervousness flew through my belly when they swayed out in full view of everyone.
“I’m so jealous of your boobs,” one smaller-chested girl had said, and we’d all laughed—girls bonding over our slightly imperfect bodies. The ones this photo was celebrating. But when that article came out, written by some body-building cocky asshole named Nate, one of the comments said, “Look at that mixed bitch—fuckable mouth, but even her boobs have rolls. Gross.”
When I looked at the photo, my boobs really did have rolls—way up close to my armpit. At that moment, I hadn’t know what I felt—embarrassed, sad, disgusting—but it sure wasn’t good.
When I’d called my mom crying about the shoot, all she’d said was, “I could have told you girls like you have no business posing nude. You shouldn’t have done it in the first place.”
Tal stood there, muscled shoulders bobbing in the four-foot end of the pool, patiently watching me.
About to watch me undress.
In the dim, yet substantial, light of the pool.
No. Fucking. Way.
“I . . . uh . . . I don’t know if I can . . .”
“Anna? You okay?”
The tables, trees, and lights around the pool all pitched and rolled around me, like I was on a boat in the middle of the ocean. Nowhere to go. No escape. “I just . . . Is there somewhere I can . . .”
Tal was out of the pool in a flash, grabbing his shorts and stepping into them on the way to pulling a chair over to where I stood. My knees were locked, and I’d started to shake.
“Here, beautiful. You okay? What’s up? Are you still feeling gross from the flight?”
“I just . . .” My stomach turned when I thought about saying it. I may not have fallen head over heels for Tal yet, but I certainly liked him more than almost anyone, and trusted him. A lot.
I definitely trusted him more than my own mother not to hurt me.
“Maybe not skinny-dipping. It’s just . . . the last time I undressed in front of someone . . .”
“Oh, fuck,” he said, kneeling beside me and stroking my hair. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Let’s go back to the guest house, okay? We’ll chill out there. No stripping, I swear.”
I tried so hard to laugh, but only some weird stuttering bark came out. “I don’t know what I was thinking, that I could be in a relationship like a normal person,” I mumbled. “My Lord, I can’t even skinny-dip with my boyfriend.”
“Hold on, now,” he said, pulling me to standing in front of him, and looking down into my eyes while he slid his hands around to my back to support me. “Of course I love how you look—it was those incredible curve that drew me in, not to mention your gorgeous eyes. But it was you that I fell for. Your spirit, your sense of humor, your love for your music and how hard you work.”
I laughed, trying to change the subject. Please, I wanted to say. We don’t have to talk about my body. We don’t have to talk about anything. Just hold me.
But he didn’t stop—sounded like he couldn’t if he tried. “Anna Hawthorne, listen to me. I love you.”
“I . . . ah . . . Tal, I . . .”
“I know you don’t love me. Not yet. I know what love looks like on you. It’s the look on your face when you’re holding Old Blue, when you’re inside your music, when you think no one else is looking. I know you’ve worked hard on your self-esteem since that photo shoot, but maybe you don’t love yourself enough to really love me. And that’s okay, Anna, because I love you. And I can wait, if you want me to.”
That feeling, that almost-love feeling that I’d felt in the air all around us just a few days ago, crept its way into the corners of my heart, and I stopped. Paid attention. Tal not only loved me, but he understood me—what I needed, when I needed it.
We held hands and walked slowly back to the guest house. The way that Tal made sure to keep his back turned to me while he poured us glasses of wine so I could pull off my swimsuit and get under the covers made my heart melt.
Something inside me felt calmer when I was under the sheets, even though the lights were still on. This, I could do. Tal slid under the covers next to me, still in his boxers. I snuggled up against him. “Not fair,” I whispered. “I can’t be the only naked one.”
“Anna, are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like you have to . . .”
“I don’t have to do anything. I know. But I kind of want to try something.”
Standing at the pool made me realize . . . my naked-fear really went into overdrive when I was standing up, dropping clothes. What if . . .
