Was that how Tom saw Cherry? Like someone put lipstick on the Michelin Man?
Was that how he saw her the first night they met? Like someone had taken a regular girl and inflated her to the point of popping?
Had he looked at her and seen someone who was already a caricature? An easy punchline?
(Did Tom’s friends read his comic? Had they laughed?)
A few other girls had appeared in the comic strip over the years. They were all busty. All a little Tex Avery. But not like this—not like Cherry.
That wasCherry.
That cartoon.
A man had drawn a picture of her as a joke and posted it online. And Cherry hadpursuedhim. She’dchasedhim. Was that what the next week’s strip would be about? That crazy-looking fat girl following Tom’s avatar around?
“I just met the most beautiful girl.”
Cherry knew what she looked like. She knew that no one would ever describe her that way, even generously.
But she wasn’t ajoke. She wasn’t pathetic.
She didn’t deserve this.
Chapter 27
She fell asleep just before dawn, the laptop under the covers with her—and woke up a few hours later when Tom climbed into bed behind her, his bare arms moving around her waist. Cold hands slid up the front of Cherry’s shirt. He slotted into her, tucked his knees behind her thighs, and sighed.
Cherry didn’t respond. She didn’t even open her eyes.
Tom moved her hair off her neck and kissed it. He tugged the collar of her pajamas open so he could kiss her shoulder. “You’re so warm,” he said. Cherry let him kiss her. He was much looser than when they first started seeing each other. Much easier with his affection. “Sleepy girl,” he whispered.
Cherry didn’t respond.
After a minute, Tom tried to roll her around to face him. She went along, limply.
“Hey,” he said, when he could see her face. He lifted her chin. “What’s wrong?”
Cherry shook her head. “Nothing.”
He ran his thumb along her cheek. “Your eyes are swollen.”
She shook her head again. She felt her eyes start to swim. “It’s nothing.”
Tom’s face was serious. “Did something happen?”
“No.” Tears spilled onto Cherry’s nose and into her hair. “Nothing happened.”
Tom’s whole hand cupped her cheek. “Do you promise that nothing happened?”
She nodded, crying a little harder.
“Baby, baby...” Tom said, working an arm underneath her to hold her against him. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m just... sad, about something. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay,” Tom said, hugging her.
She cried even harder.
