Picture Perfect (9 page)

“Do you have something?” I asked. “I’m on the pill, but...”

He licked his lips, swallowed hard, and nodded. He pulled a small square box from his nightstand and ripped the cardboard strip off of it. An unopened box, and just a three-pack at that. A just-in-case box, not an I-do-this-all-the-time box. I ticked my eyebrow up and smirked in satisfaction. A guy this hot, and I was the one girl, it seemed, he had brought home.

It was my turn for my hands to grab at his hips, for my arms to pull his body to my mouth. My lips covered the place where his shoulder met his neck, and I sucked hard. He groaned, settled between my legs and rocked into me, reaching up to brush the hair away from my face and resting his forehead against mine.

My world exploded into swirling color and heavy breaths and nothingness as my skin drank in every bit of his.

Afterwards,
we laid facing each other, our shoulders pressed together as my fingers trailed down the paths carved by muscle his back. His hand rested on the back of my hip which, freed from fabric and weird sitting positions, curved down into my waist without a single roll.

I was happy.

“I like this,” I murmured.

“Being here with me?”

I kissed him lazily. “That too. But...I don’t know. Lying here, like this, I feel like a

model.”

“What does that even mean, when you say that?”

“Well, when I would do a photo shoot, the clothes would just look absolutely incredible on me. They’d be loose, even. I wore some things that I still drool over. They were masterpieces.”

“Fashion design major. Got it,” he nodded.

“Right. My body made these clothes everything they were supposed to be. It was this tremendous feeling of power, you know? That these clothes were designed with such care, such attention to detail, but my body was the only thing that could make them into everything the artist imagined.”

“How much did you weigh?” Nate asked as his hand grazed the back of my thigh and played at the back of my knee.

“I was at one-twenty, and I think it was only that much because I’ve always had these shoulders and arms.”

“You mean, the beautifully toned ones?”

I blushed. “I always thought I was a better rider when my upper body was strong—that I’d be able to handle the barrels and the jumps better. Guess that wasn’t quite true. Anyway, that was why so many of the designers asked for me. I was unique as a subset of their definition of perfect. And now....”

“....Now you’re my
entire
definition of perfect.”

That earned him a long, lingering kiss, complete with a little fingernail running across his back.

When I finally stopped, his low sound of satisfaction lingered in my ears.

“What’s your story?” I asked him. “I mean, you’re telling me I’m perfect, but the other night...”

“Oh, God. Cat. I’m really sorry about that. I mean, I’m not sorry, but...”

My brow furrowed and my eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Okay. So you know how I was at USC for the past two years?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I didn’t tell you the whole reason why I left.” His eyes darted away, focusing on his own hand as it moved over the sheet and rested on my hip. “When I was there...I didn’t like myself very much. I did that bodybuilding thing I told you about, which is why I actually feel a little self-conscious right now.”

“Okay, I don’t believe that.”

“It’s true. I used to be in a lot better shape than this. But anyway, I got involved in some stuff I wasn’t proud of. Some of it was really bad. And some of it was just sort of bad.”

“Like?”

He sighed. “Oh, just….partying, I guess. I didn’t party a lot, which is why when I did party, I partied hard. And I ended up in bed with too many girls that I didn’t remember getting there with, you know?”

My eyes flew open and my eyebrows pushed up.

“No, no,” he said. “No. I’m clean. Tested and everything. I swear. But the last time...I mean, I didn’t even remember meeting the girl, you know? And it was just the worst feeling.”

“Okay,” I murmured, tracing his pecs with my finger. “So? What does that have to do with me?”

“God, Cat, that night I met you was just overwhelming. You were so gorgeous, I could barely think straight. And then realizing who you were… I mean, I’ve never forgotten what you did for me at Camp Eagle.”

I giggled. “Little-kid egos, for the win.”

“No, but really. The teasing could have gotten really bad, could have really fucked me up. You saved me that summer. I kissed the hottest girl at camp, and it got me major street cred.”

I gave a closed-lip laugh and nestled my head into his shoulder. Jesus, the smell of his aftershave was enough to make me want to jump on him again right then and there.

“And your face, it’s more gorgeous now, obviously, but really just the same. You’ve always been the perfect woman, to me. ”

“Oh, stop,” I said, kissing his neck. But I didn’t want him to stop.

“So, only realizing who you were after I saw you in that class and wanted to lick every inch of you, and then the beer, and the dancing, and....well, to make a long story short, I didn’t know which way was up, you know? And you’d been crying after the class, and you’d had some beer too.”

“So?”

“So I made myself a promise a long time ago that I would never sleep with a girl unless I’d seen her at least twice. Not unless I woke up the next morning and couldn’t stop thinking about her.”

“You called me first thing the next morning.”

“Pretty much. The first chance I got, or gave myself, anyway. So now you know. I

couldn’t stop thinking about you yesterday, and I don’t think I’ll be able to for a long, long time.”

I grabbed his face and kissed with long and lingering kisses, biting at his lips and then stroking them with my tongue. I grinned when I felt his growing pressure against my stomach.

He dipped down, his mouth an unstoppable force against my skin. When he started kissing the slow path around my breasts again, I was a goner.

“I know that some people might consider this coercion,” he whispered, “but at this point I kind of don’t care.”

Whatever he was going to ask me, I knew the answer would be yes. I could only get out a half-whimper, half-groan, and arched my back into his kisses.

“Would you please stay the night? I want to remember every second of this one, and I want every second to be with you.”

I was absolutely right. “No” was never an option. I reached over to the nightstand, ripped open another square packet, and pulled the covers over the both of us, even though I knew they wouldn’t stay there for long.

As
the weeks rolled on, I realized that I’d never had a real boyfriend before.

That probably sounded stupid, but it was true. I’d had fuck buddies. I’d had guys I was talking to, and who would take me out for dinner or dancing at nice places. And, since I’d been with Nate, I realized they were probably doing it for themselves.

Just like Jake, I realized all those guys had dropped off the map since I’d gotten back to Philly. And just like all the designers I’d worked with before my accident, they wanted nothing to do with me once I came back sixty pounds heavier.

The thing about Nate was, he made me want to tell all of them to fuck off. With Nate, I did two things I never had done that much of before the accident: Eat, and exercise. And I realized how much I loved to do both. In two weeks, we’d eaten the city’s best sushi, Indian, Mexican, even Ethiopian. Nate knew all about food, and wine too, and he taught me how to appreciate the nuanced tastes of each dish and vintage.

One warm fall afternoon, wandering through the Reading Terminal Market with the sunshine streaming through the high glass windows and our fingers threaded together, Nate pointed out his favorite discoveries. “There are homemade pierogies and kielbasa, or the grape leaves at that place are to die for. And you’re not leaving here without some Bassett’s ice cream. Their Irish coffee flavor is just…wow.”

As we walked by the produce stand, the vibrant peppers and lush greens decorating table after table, Nate stopped in his tracks. He headed to the stand with the herbs and basically caressed a bunch of green leaves. “This is gorgeous,” he said to the shopkeeper.

“Comes from a little farm up in Chadd’s Ford,” she said, smiling. “Would you like to try some?”

Nate folded a leaf into his mouth, and his eyes fluttered shut as he chewed and moaned.

I giggled. “Foodgasm?”

“Understatement,” he said, “of the year.” He picked up the crate holding the bunches of basil. “We’ll take it all.”

“What are we doing? I’m starving,” I complained as he handed some bills to the checkout girl.

“Have you ever wondered why we haven’t eaten Italian?”

“Um…we’ve only known each other two weeks?”

“No. Because I make the best pesto you’ll ever taste.”

“And you’re going to show me?”

We paused in the middle of the market, letting the noise and the light and the colors and the smells wash over us. He squeezed my hand, pulled me into him, and kissed me, steady and strong and lingering.

I’d never felt happier, or more treasured, with a guy. Which made me finally feel semi-okay in this body.

“Yes. And then I’m going to show you some of my other tricks.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t make me beg.”

“Well, the night is young.”

He dropped my hand and pinched my ass with his free fingers. I squealed and kissed his cheek, and two hours later, I was swooning over pesto sauce, pretty sure Nate wouldn’t give a second thought to the garlic breath that followed.

One month later, I sat on the worn couch in Doctor Albright’s office, warm light streaming through the windows. It was a welcome change from the gray, rainy chill that had seemed to settle over all of Philadelphia in early November. I didn’t know whether it was the sunlight or the antidepressants, or just the past three weeks with Nate, but I was practically bouncing on the sofa.

When she stepped in, a smile broke across her face. “How are you, Catherine? You look well.”

“I feel good,” I said. I seriously could not control my grin.

“Is the medication working out for you?” she asked, peering down over her glasses.

“Oh. Um, I think so. I don’t feel super different, but the mood swings aren’t as bad as they used to be. Pretty nonexistent, actually.”

“Yes, you are actually glowing. Did the nude modeling give you some sense of empowerment back? Professor Astor said you sat for her but needed to leave in the middle, and haven’t called her since.”

“Oh, you talked to her?”
Was she allowed to do that?

“Just in passing. I’ve recommended the treatment before and I like to keep anecdotal evidence for whether it’s working. Exposure therapy is relatively common, but that particular mode isn’t. We’re lucky to be at a university, and have access to unique things like human form drawing classes.”

“Well actually, she was right. I didn’t finish. I did two poses, and at the end of the second, I thought one of the guys in the class was complaining about my body.”

“I see. And?”

“And he caught me crying on my way out, told me it was a misunderstanding. His eraser was breaking through the paper. That was all it was.”

“But then, you haven’t been back?”

“No, because...well, that guy turned out to be pretty great.” That grin crept back up over my face and I was sure Doctor Albright could see every steamy moment that had passed between Nate and me. So I figured, what the heck, and told her everything—how he took me rock climbing to make me feel strong, and all the ways he made me feel sexy, too.

Doctor Albright made some notes in a small black book. It was so tiny that I wondered if she had a separate one for each patient.

“So, can you tell me about a typical week for you right now?”

“Usually I have class in the morning, I’ll do some studying while I wait for Nate to get out of his classes. Then we’ll do dinner, usually in, but sometimes out with friends. I spend some nights at the studio and the rest with him, typically.”

“Mmm. Can you tell me whether that’s different from your life last year?”

“Oh, yeah, completely. I mean...” I met her gaze to find an “I told you so” face there. Oh.
Oh.
That’s what this was. “It’s just that I’ve changed since the accident, you know?”

“How? You’re still the same major, and you’re still in a sorority, right? Still have the same roommate?”

My brain froze. “Yeah. Yes, you’re right. But—”

“So what’s different? Has your attitude changed?”

“Well, yeah. That stuff’s not important to me. You know, partying and sorority stuff and everything.”

“Why not? What’s changed?”

I wracked my brain. I knew what she was asking, and I didn’t want it to be the answer. But I knew it was, and eventually, I gave up. “My body.”

“That, but more importantly, how you think of it as affecting you being in the world. I’m so happy you’ve found this man who makes you feel beautiful when you’re with him.”

“But?”

“But I worry about you tying your self-worth into only that. And I want you to consider that it may only be when you’re with him. When you go to sorority events, how do you feel?”

I thought about the first TG of the season, which Nate couldn’t make it to but where I stood against the wall all night. Or all the way back to that first night we went out, and Jake staring disdainfully at my body—a memory I really didn’t want to relive. “I haven’t even been to the clubs or anything this year. Wearing heels is tough, and…” Tears pricked at my eyes for the first time in weeks. “I hate it. I feel like I don’t fit in.”

“You’re a normal size, Catherine. Are there are other girls in your sorority who wear a size ten, or twelve, or fourteen? Or at the clubs you used to go to?”

“I....well, yeah. I’m sure there are.” I thought for a minute, and was able to pull out three names from the class of girls I’d entered the sorority with. “Yes. But...”

“But what?” Doctor Albright wore a small, sad smile, one that told me she knew she’d caught me.

“But they’ve always been that way?”

“I’m sure that’s not true. They may have developed into their comfortable weight in seventh grade or in high school, or even in their freshman year of college. But they’ve learned to deal with it. You haven’t, yet. And hiding behind Nate and how he makes you feel won’t help you deal with it all the way. That’s why I want to push you, Catherine. I do think we succeeded in nipping body dysmorphia in the bud. I really do. But now I want you to live with who you are. Right now. Yes, you have a boy to tell you you’re beautiful, and when you’re with him, you believe it. That is amazing. But now I want you to step outside that comfort zone. Push yourself. Find that feeling in yourself, instead of getting it from others.”

A familiar pain, made up of a tight chest, a spiraling feeling in my head, and a lump in my throat, took over my whole body. I tried to hide it, I did. But there was no way. “Can’t I just...I don’t know. Make that my project next semester, or something?”

Doctor Albright leaned forward and covered my hands with one of hers. “I promise you, I’m telling you this for your own good. But you and this boy are young. So many things can happen, and his presence in your life is not guaranteed forever. I don’t want him to become a crutch. Do you understand?”

I did. But I didn’t want to.

I smiled a sad smile. “Okay. So, more exposure therapy?”

She mirrored my expression, and sat back. “Yes. Once a week, do something you used to do. Without Nate. Shopping with your friends—especially your very thin ones. A sorority event. Going out to a club. Maybe even modeling again.”

“No, no. No. I can’t model.”

“Maybe we’ll talk about that the next time. I’m actually thinking there’s someone I could call.”

Next time. She wanted to see me again. And she’d want me to model. Wasn’t going to happen. Even though we still had half an hour in our session, I felt pricking behind my eyes. I got to my feet. I didn’t want to cry in front of her.

“Thanks. I have to go.”

I had my hand on the door when Doctor Albright called, “Cat. I know it’s hard, but promise me you’ll try. Or at least think about it.”

I looked back over my shoulder, just out of the corner of my eye. “I promise.” I wasn’t sure I could do any such thing, but I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

The only thing that kept me from crying on the four-block walk home was the promise of tortellini with Nate’s perfect pesto sauce that night.