The rough carpet scratching against my bare back, his weight on top of me, kissing through the taste of energy drinks and the tired confusion of 4 a.m. I don't want to be here, but there's nowhere else I'd like to be.
"God you're the hottest girl I've been with," he says, his green eyes meeting mine, a line he's probably used dozens of times on dozens of girls, but I'm okay with that. His hands are rough over my body. I wonder if he has a condom, if he can feel the ridges of my hipbones pressing into him through his jeans, if he can hear the pounding of my heartbeat. And it's strange how lonely I feel while so physically close to someone.
He reaches to pull his zipper down, but I reach for my shirt. And I leave before I can make another decision I'll come to regret.
I wasn't ready, and I won't truly be ready until I'm comfortable in this body.
Little Miss Thin
Thin or Not