Page 15 of For the Plot
Nikki
Closer - Teagan and Sara
Apparently,apairofripped up boyfriend jeans and your favorite crop top were the best outfit to wear to ask your friend/roommate to fuck you forresearch. I got lucky with theroommate gods, because today both Will and Collins would be at work—Collins having left for a forty-eight hour shift right after our conversation, Will out covering a pre-season Rams day game at his job as a radio sportscaster.
James wasn’t working until tonight, so the two of us would be home alone together all afternoon. My heart had been racing since I ended the call with Lucy, knowing that this was my one shot to broach the topic with him. But this idea could all end up being for nothing. If James wasn’t comfortable with this of course I wasn’t going to try and convince or coerce him.
What if he wasn’t attracted to me? He’d never made any indication that he was before. Sure, he may not need to find me attractive to sleep with me, since he slept with people he wasn’t attracted to somewhat often, but that felt different.
And alternatively, what if hewasattracted to me and we had sex and it ruined our friendship?
I shook my head, forcing myself to stop spiraling about it before there was anything to spiral about. I had decided to do this, consequences be damned, so now it was time.
I took one last look at myself in the mirror that acted as my closet door and examined myself. The roundness of my stomach, and the squishy roll above the waist of the jeans. The faint stretch lines you could see on the exposed skin between the pants and the hem of my soft, formfitting red cropped t-shirt. My boobs were on the smaller side for someone of my size, my body in the shape of a pear. The textured strawberry skin of my exposed biceps. My soft double chin, the slightest scattering of freckles across the bridge of my nose and cheeks, more faint than usual since I hadn’t spent much time outside since becoming a full-time author.
Man, I really needed to get out more, but it was so easy to fall into a pattern of never leaving the house when you worked from home. Even more so when you have mental health struggles. Ihad gone through phases of hating my body, like most people,especiallymost fat people. My relationship with my body was now the best it had ever been. I loved my softness and my strength. I found the beauty in the stretch marks and even the cellulite. I also stopped prescribing worth and value to what my body looked like.
That didn’t mean I didn’t still have hard days, though. I hated this mentality that often came with body positivity, that we had to love ourselves completely and indefinitely all the time, or we didn’t truly love ourselves at all. But it wasn't like you couldn't wholeheartedly love a partner and still struggle with them, still have bad days. I’d recently heard the phrase "body neutrality" and it’s one that I had been thinking a lot about lately. Body neutrality focused more on accepting and appreciating your body for what it was, rather than what it looked like. I was so proud of myself for getting to a place where I could look in the mirror and catalogue my body like that without feeling any type of way, just appreciating myself for exactly how I was.
My body had carried me through twenty-six years, and I loved it for that. I loved it because it was mine, and that was enough for me. I could no longer get on board with the toxic positivity of loving my body always. I was allowed to have bad days and still love and respect myself.
After another moment gazing in the mirror, I finally felt ready. Ready to put myself out there andtry. Tilting my chin up and pushing my shoulders back, I forced myself to fake the confidence until I could feel it. What’s the worst that could really happen? He could say no, and we'd just pretend it never happened. I could do that. I couldtotallydo that.
As hyped up as I was going to get, I left my bedroom and headed for the living room where I could hear the TV playing. Coming around the corner, I found James sitting on the couch, trying to stuff an entire slice of pizza into his mouth in one bite.
I burst into laughter. “Dude, what the hell are you doing? Just take a bite like a normal person.” I dropped onto the couch next to him, already feeling more confident.
Instead of responding, as his mouth was full of pizza, James just lifted his hand and gave me the finger. I shook my head at him, ignoring his rude gesture and looking to see what he was watching. Of course, it was the most recent season ofIs It Cake?
As soon as I watched the first season, I knew James would love it, too, so I got him hooked on it. James would often bake in his free time, and whenever my brother Ezra—who had just finished pastry school—came over, the two of them wouldn't shut up about whatever new technique they were onto at the moment.
“I told you to watch this months ago! You’re only watching it now?”
James mumbled something through his mouthful, and I just glared at him in response. He knew I hated that. If his mouth wasn't too full to do it, he would definitely be giving me a shit-eating grin right now. He chewed it more and then took a drink of water to wash down the last of it.
“I honestly forgot about it until I was scrolling for something to watch and it popped up.”
“It’s good, right?”
“Oh yeah. Grace’s cake in the second episode was incredible.”
“But nothing will ever beat Johnny Cakes,” we said at the same time, turning to look at each other, and bursting into laughter.
“Did you see that cartoon cake he made on his Instagram? I really want to try it!” he said.
I smiled at the enthusiasm in his voice, knowing he would probably make a pretty decent one. “You should do it! Maybe for Will’s birthday? It's coming up soon.”
“Maybe I will,” James said, picking up a napkin and wiping the pizza sauce from the sides of his mouth.
I noticed he had changed his nails, now painted a sparkly black. “Ooo, I like the new nail color.”
He looked down, taking it in like he had forgotten. “Oh, yeah. The old one was mostly chipped off, so I redid them earlier.”
“Nice.” I nodded my head, trailing off into an awkward silence. I felt like James could tell there was something I wanted to ask, but like always, he let me get there on my own time. I tried to figure out the best way to open the conversation, but there was no way forward but through, was there?
“So, remember the conversation we had the other night?”
James froze, another slice of pizza halfway to his mouth. “You mean when I came home and found you crying toThe Princess Brideyet again?” he teased, mischief twinkling in his eyes.
