Measuring Up

out. He likes me the way I am. He’s not the judgmental type, Em, I swear it. He’s amazing. So amazing that I think…” I’ve hidden so much from my friend lately that I can’t hide this. There’s no one else I want to share it with. “I think I love him.”

Emily freezes. No movement. I’m not even sure she’s breathing, but then I see her eyes glistening with the familiar shimmer of unshed tears. Suddenly, she pushes to her feet. “Good for you, Bell. You be in love with your non-judgmental boyfriend and keep on forgetting about me. I can’t help but wonder though, if you weren’t worried about what Mr. Perfect would think of me, that maybe you just didn’t want another dirty mark on your reputation. You’re already freaked out about your

weight so I guess you didn’t want to add a screwed up friend into the mix, too.”

Despite the heat and the anger simmering inside me, ice begins to slither through my veins. My eyes are starting to tear up now too. Shame, guilt, confusion all

tying me up. That’s not true, is it? Was I subconsciously embarrassed of my own best friend? No. No, it can’t be. But maybe it is? I’m not sure I knew it, but she might be right. What kind of person am I? “Em--” My voice cracks and I don’t finish, at a loss of what to say.

“No worries, A

***

“Come on, slow poke. I’m leaving you in the dust back there. I thought we were going on a jog, not a walk.”

I push myself forward, trying to catch up with Tegan. The fact is, I’m not into it. It’s been two days since my blow-up with Em. Three since the fight with Mom

and I don’t have the guts to talk to either of them. I’m not sure I deserve to ever talk to Em again and my heart can’t take being steamrolled by Mom, because as much as I’d like to think I’ve grown, as much as I say I want to do things on my own and stand up for myself, there’s a part of me that still knows I can’t. Not with her.

“We can’t all be as good as you, Gym Boy.” I’m so shocked at the words that fall from my mouth that I don’t realize Tegan has stopped ru

the back of him. “Ouch! Warn a girl, would ya.”

He turns to face me, his hair all windblown and messy. “We’re back to that now? Calling me Gym Boy? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Everything.

“Don’t play games with me, A

Like always, I can’t help myself from leaning on him. For the past month and a half, I’ve done a lot of leaning on Tegan. Too much? I’m not sure, but right now, I need him. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m a blubbering mess. Tears, those big gasping cries that are not cute are echoing through the park and he’s walking, arm around me, to sit me down. Thank God it’s a deserted area, because I can’t hold myself back from spilling it all. I tell him about di

letting my verbal river of words break through the dam.

Finally after the hiccup crying is complete and the story told he speaks. “You’re not a bad friend. You love Em. No one’s perfect. I’m not sure you weren’t

embarrassed of her at all, but if you were…I get it.”

Not him. He doesn’t screw up, I want to say, but I don’t. “She hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you. She loves you. She’s worried about you and she’ll forgive you, just like you’ll forgive her. Emily isn’t completely i

How is it he always makes me feel better? That his words are like law to me? Because I’m still not standing on my own. I’m still doing the right things for the

wrong reasons and I need to learn how to be strong without Tegan. “She’ll forgive me?”

“Of course.” He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me closer. “But you know that. You don’t need me to tell you half the stuff I do. I’m not sure why you

think so, but you know it all right here,” he touches my head like he did all those weeks ago when he said I needed to believe I could lose weight. “And here.” He touches my heart again. “When are you going to believe in yourself? To trust yourself?”

“I’m trying.” But I’m not sure if I really am or if I’m just pretending to. And him, I’m still confused about something he said. “You get it? How?”

Tegan drops his head into his hands, rubbing his face. He’s been there for me so many times, in so many ways, that I just want to do the same for him, so I grab

his hand. “What is it?”

“You know how I said I hate pity?”

I nod my head.

“It’s such bullshit, because on the one hand I hate it, but on the other… I pity myself.”

There is so much pain…so much regret in his voice, that it tears me up inside. “Why?”

“Not now,” he tries to smile. “You know,” Tegan looks down at me, still holding me tight. “It’s been way too long since I kissed you. Wa

bushes and make-out?”

Again, I let him change the subject. “How old are you? I swear, sometimes I think Tim is more mature than you.”

“But I make you smile. It’s a pretty smile. You should totally do it more often and you should totally kiss me before I pull your hair, or chase you or something.

That’s what little boys like me do when they like a girl, right?”

I shake my head. “You’re a nerd.”

He leans closer. “Will the third time be the charm?”

I don’t have it in me to make him ask again. I let my mouth find his. My tongue sneaks out, needing to taste Tegan. It’s so familiar, the way we move together

now. The way I sense his movements and give when he wants to take, and take what he offers to me. His hand slides down, down until he’s touching my rear. Oh my

God! I’m all sorts of dizzy, feeling little sparks igniting inside me. When his hand slides up again, I’m scared he will pull away, but instead his hand slides under the back of my shirt. We’re skin to skin, his rough fingers somehow smooth as they drift up and down my back.

I want to take him in. Every part of him. And I want to touch him too, so I do, testing the waters by letting my hand drift beneath his shirt. He’s hard where I’m soft. Firm where I’m not, but right now, all I can do is revel in the differences because they make him, him and me, me. These moments, when he’s moaning into my mouth and obviously as lost to sensation as I am, that’s all that matters. Tegan being Tegan and me being me. Together.

“We’re going to get in trouble for indecent exposure if we don’t stop,” he says against my mouth. “As good as you feel, we have to stop. I’m game with picking

up where we left off later tonight.”

I groan. “We have to?”

“Pick up later?”

“No, stop.”

“Yeah. If I’m going to meet your parents, which I totally am, you know. I’ve wanted to anyway and now Mommy Dearest gave me a reason. But if we want them

to like me, I probably shouldn’t get us arrested from going at it in public.” He offers his signature wink.

Going at it? Little firecrackers pop in my belly, but then I realize what he said. “You’d really suffer through a meeting with my mom for me?”

“A

***

My leg won’t stop bouncing up and down. I seem to have completely lost control over it. Even though I haven’t eaten all day, I’m not hungry. Tegan will be

pissed if he finds out I skipped meals, but honestly, the thought of food makes me want to hurl. I’ve texted Tegan a million times to make sure he doesn’t want to back out. It wouldn’t hurt my feelings, I explained. I would understand. He started off humoring me by telling me he couldn’t wait (which, hello? Has to be a lie. Why would someone be excited to torture themselves with my family?), but by the end I only get replies like, ‘shut up’ and ‘I’m ignoring you now’.