“Wynter, right?” A girl with a sun-kissed glow and long braids appeared in front of me, smiling too brightly. “I follow you on Instagram. You’re a figure skater right? You’re even prettier in real life.”
Pretty. That word again. I just nodded, offering her a small smile. “I don’t manage my Instagram account but thanks, I guess,” I said, hoping that would be the end of it. But she stayed a second too long, flashing a look back at her friends, who whispered and nudged each other.
“If you wanna get drinks and hang out, my friends and I are here till one.” She winked at me.
“I don’t drink.” I told her, “but thanks for the offer.”
When she finally wandered off, Cahya threw a handful of sand at my feet to grab my attention, laughing but not quite meeting my eyes. “Bro, what is it with you? You’re like a magnet with women. How do you do it?”
I shrugged, not knowing what to say. “I don’t do anything,” I mumbled, glancing down, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks despite myself.
Jax rolled his eyes, taking a swig of his drink. “Yeah, sure. Just shows up and suddenly every girl on the beach is drooling.”
“It’s insane considering you look like that, I didn’t know girls were into it.” Cahya looked perplexed.
“Look like what?” I wondered in confusion.
“You know…” Cahya anticipated, but I just furrowed my eyebrows.
Jax gave me a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe I need to start wearing my hair longer, looking all soft and pretty.”
“Yeah, exactly,” Cahya added, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. “Not all of us get a free pass for looking like a girl.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I wondered. “Pretty sure I look like a guy because straight girls are the ones speaking to me.”
It wasn’t rocket science.
“You look like Nana Komatsu,” Cahya told me, “InDrowning Loveto be specific.”
My jaw clenched, but I forced myself to laugh, the way I always did when they made these kinds of comments. “Maybe it’s all in the cheekbones,” I joked, half-heartedly. “Not much I can do about it.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Jax said, smirking. “But come on, man—don’t you ever wish you looked more, you know…like a guy?”
“What does that even mean?” I shot back, trying to keep my tone light but feeling something twist inside. “Since when is looking like me a bad thing?”
Cahya rolled his eyes. “Dude, we’re just saying—girls are practically throwing themselves at you, maybe it’s the accent too; chicks dig the British thing. And you barely even try. But us? They don’t look twice. And when they do, we don’t get the whole ‘I thought you were a model’ thing.”
I glanced at him, not sure if I wanted to laugh or defend myself. “It’s not like they know me,” I said finally. “They see my face, they like what they see. Doesn’t mean they see me.”
Jax raised an eyebrow, scoffing. “Come on, Wynter. Don’t tell us it’s some deep curse looking like a celebrity or whatever. I mean, you’re practically living on easy mode. They love the ‘pretty boy’ thing.”
Easy mode. I wanted to tell him how wrong he was. How they saw a face they liked but never the person behind it, never the kid who didn’t feel like he measured up, not even close. They sawsome image, and all it did was make me feel trapped inside my own skin, a stranger to myself.
But instead, I just shrugged, keeping my face neutral, like always. “Maybe it’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” I said, hoping that would be enough to make them let it go.
But Cahya just laughed again, shaking his head. “Man, you can say that because you’ve got it all—the looks, the attention, the whole mysterious vibe. If you’re so over it, feel free to send a few of them our way.”
“What the fuck is you guys’ problem?” Beck intervened, suddenly making an appearance. “No way you’re seriously having a pissing contest at the beach. Grow up.”
“Woah we didn’t mean it in an offensive way,” Jax excused, backing away.
“Boys never do,” Beck seethed, her older sister instinct kicking in in a way that made me chuckle to myself, glancing down.
“He didn’t seem to mind, did you, Wyn?” Cahya asked, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.
“Not necessarily,” I feigned nonchalance.
“Dumbasses the lot of you,” Beck huffed, folding her arms, her blue tank top glittering in the moonlight. “Jax and Cahya for being insensitive pricks and most of all you, Wyn.”
