“Why? In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never been self-conscious about your body. Why is it suddenly a thing?”
“I-I’ve always been self-conscious about my body.”
“Not to the extent where you’d starve yourself. The raccoon I fell in love with never said no to food.”
“I’m not starving myself; I’m being reasonable.”
“That’s bullshit. What did you eat for lunch?”
Fuck, that won’t look good. “An apple,” I concede with honesty. What follows, though, is a lie. “But I’m not hungry.”
“Bullshit, again. Hold your hand out,” he commands. Confused, I don’t comply, unsure where he’ll go with this. “Your hand, Andrea.”
He seems very serious, so I obey to avoid getting into an argument with him. He flattens my hand midair between us, palm down, and releases it. The way it slightly shakes is impossible to miss. I have low blood sugar. I already knew because I can feel it—my head is a little dizzy, my limbs are weak, and I’m tired.
“Why are you starving yourself?” Lex asks. His harsh tone is gone, replaced by worry.
“I want… to look nice for the gala.”
“It started before you knew about the gala. Why do you feel the need to lose weight?”
Because men like Alexander Coleman end up with women like Evora Campbell, not like me. But he’ll have my head if I remind him of that.
“It’s my body, Lex. I can do whatever I want with it,” I argue.
“Not if you’re being unhealthy. And if you’re doing it for the wrong reasons, we both know you shouldn’t do it at all.”
I don’t answer, obstinately looking at the fridge behind him. My reasons may be shallow and ludicrous, but they are mine. I’ll never be as refined and knowledgeable as she is in the way of their world, but I can at least try to look the part.
“Why are you doing this, Andrea?” Lex insists with an uneven voice. Fuck, if he starts crying, then I’ll start crying, and we’ll be on for another mess.
So, I break before he does and tell him. “I’m doing it because I’m worried you’ll find Evora more attractive than me,” I confess. The truth is so painful to admit that it feels like razor blades coming up my throat.
Lex’s surprise and confusion speak louder than any words. He finds my words preposterous, almost as if I accused him of something outrageous. Which I guess I kind of did.
“Did I say or do something that made you doubt yourself?” he asks, very concerned.
“No, but… I own a mirror. I’m no one’s fantasy, Lex.”
“Fuck that. You’remyfantasy. Isn’t it enough?”
“But I don’t get it. I have flaws from head to toe, and if you—Eek, what are you doing?!” I shriek when he abruptly hauls me over his shoulder, face down and ass up.
He doesn’t answer as he carries me through the apartment like a sack of potatoes. Between the lack of food all day and the blood rushing to my head, everything spins by the time he puts me down. I barely have time to see we’re surrounded by the mirrors of his home gym when he lifts the T-shirt up and removes it from me entirely.
The light is unforgiving, so I cover my tits with an arm and my pussy with a hand. “Never hide yourself from me, Andrea,” he argues, pulling my hands away. Then he flips me around and makes me face the main mirror, standing right beside me. “One flaw. I dare you to show me asingleflaw on you,” he demands.
So, this is what we’re doing? Really?
I stare at my reflection, scanning every small part of me. The hardest thing isn’t to find a flaw; it’s to decide which one to start with. He doesn’t mean it that way, but this is humiliating. The mirror sends back such an embarrassing image, with his perfectly carved body next to mine. It only reminds me of how much I don’t deserve him. Tears of shame fill my eyes, but I blink until they’re gone.
“This,” I say, passing a hand over the bump on my lower stomach.
“You have an organ there. It needs room.”
“No, that’s fat.”
“It’s your uterus, Andrea. We both know you’re smarter than that. Next.”
