Uncomfortable

Chapter 3

Krystal

“Krys, you’ve got to get out of that bed.” My friend and roommate, Abby Kinkade stands over me, her face a mask of admonishment.

“No,” I grouse and roll toward the wall, tucking the blanket over my head. Two days have passed since the world saw me naked. I feel like I’ve earned the right to hide in my room for at least a week.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. The picture isn’t even up anymore.” Truth. Miranda and Abby both reported the post, and it was removed within an hour. The account that posted it has also been disabled, but I don’t know if that was Insta or Ryan’s doing.

“Yeah, but how many people probably took screenshots of it? The internet is forever, Abs.”

“So?” Miranda’s voice comes from somewhere near the doorway. She must have decided to drop by after Bio. Which I didn’t go to. I didn’t go to Algebra today either.

I throw my blanket back and glare at her. “So! Everyone has seen me naked!”

“Krystal Ann Matthews!” Abby chides. “How can you call yourself a feminist and sit in here sulking because people saw a naughty picture of you. First of all, you should be plotting your revenge on Ryan. Are we cutting off his testicles or what? Second… that picture has only as much power as you give it. By hiding in here, you’re giving Ryan, and that picture, power over you that you shouldn’t be. You know what I would do if I were in your shoes?”

I eye her skeptically. Abby isn’t exactly known for subtlety. “What?”

“I would take another photo of myself, one that I chose, and I would post it on my own account.” Her answer is confident and matter of fact, and I don’t doubt for one second that is exactly what she would do.

“I’m not doing that.”

“Yeah, don’t do that.” Miranda agrees.

Abby continues, “All I’m saying is, hold your head up. Don’t let the fact that people have seen you in the buff affect how you live your life. Don’t let Ryan hurt you with this. Own it.”

“Own it?” I ask unsurely. How can I possible own this… aside from posting more nude photos of myself online.

“Yes. Start by getting out of this bed, get dressed—in something sexy—and let’s go to the Phi Delta party tonight.” Miranda smacks my blanket-covered ass. “But seriously, take a shower first. You stink.”

Abby pokes Miranda in the arm. “How did you get invited to the Phi Delta party?”

“A girl in my Trig class invited me. She wants to introduce me to her brother or something.”

“How come no one ever tries to hook me up with their hot brother?” Abby laments.

Miranda snorts. “You don’t know that he’s hot. His sister is trying to find him a date. I’m thinking hot is not usually a word applied to him.

“A girl can dream though.”

I shake away a spark of irritation and wave my hand between my two friends. “Ladies, can we focus here? I’ve got a real problem.”

“Eh, do you though?” Abby challenges, and even Miranda looks confused.

“Huh?”

“This whole naked picture thing could work in your favor.” She doubles down on her original statement.

“How do you figure?” I’m not sure I want to know the answer to my question, but I ask it anyway.

“Well, it could actually be a blessing in a few ways.” She holds up three fingers and uses her other hand to tick off points on each finger as she continues, “One, it’s a great way to weed out all the creeps. Any guy who’s just out to get in your pants is going to ask you about the pics… and probably ask you if there are more. Two, you don’t need to worry about being nervous getting naked with guys now because, chances are, they’ve already seen you sans clothing, and the fact that they still want to get with you means they think you’re hot. And three,” She waves her hand sporting those three raised fingers in my face, “It’ll make for a great conversation opener.”

Oh jeez. Don’t ask. Don’t ask. I do not want to know what she means.

“Conversation—What? What do you mean?” I may not want to know, but apparently Miranda does.

Abby straightens her shoulders and flips her long, dark waves over one shoulder the way I usually wear my hair; then she bats her eyelashes at Miranda in mock flirting. “So… ever been naked on social media before? I have.” Her voice is just sultry enough to have me rolling my eyes at the same time I’m blushing furiously.

“There is something wrong with you,” I tell her and throw myself back under my blanket.

“So, I’ve been told. But if this is wrong, baby, then I don’t wanna be right.”

I choose to ignore her and say to Miranda instead, “I’m not going to the party.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m gonna remember that. The next time you tell me you want to go out and do something fun, I’ma be like, ‘I don’t know what that is, sorry.’” I don’t plan on leaving this dorm ever again anyway.

“I’ll probably just tell you I want to go to the library,” Miranda responds.

“The library? Apparently, you don’t know what fun is either.” Abby smacks my ass, and my mattress moves as she stands up. “Come on, Krys. Jokes aside, we’re going out. Don’t make me drag you to the showers and wash you myself. Because you know I will.”

Yeah, she definitely would.

I must move too slow for her because her fingers wrap around my ankle and she starts tugging me toward the edge of the bed.

“Alright. Alright! I’m going. Jeez, guys, can’t a girl just die from mortification in peace?”

“Not if we have anything to say about it,” Abby answers as I throw back my blanket and hang my feet over the side of my bed. She’s already at the closet rifling through my clothes. A minute later, she holds up my birthday dress from last year. The one I bought specifically to impress Ryan. And it worked. My eighteenth birthday party was the first time he really noticed me. Two weeks later, we were officially dating. Four months later, we were sleeping together.

My heart sinks. Another six weeks later, I was taking nude photos for him, and two months after that, we were broken up and I was a nude internet sensation. All in under a year, and all because of that dress.

“f**k that dress!”

My outburst has Abby taking a step back and holding the dress out to survey it like she’s only just realized it is covered in plague germs.

“Okay, so not that dress,” Miranda stands and takes it from Abby, throws it and the hanger on the floor in the corner. “Hey, why don’t you wear one of Abby’s dresses?”

Abby and I aren’t exactly the same size. I’m a size two on my heavy days, and at least six inches shorter than Abby, who is closer to a size six. Plus I’m not even remotely interested in impressing anyone tonight. Miranda could probably cut head and arm holes into one of my pillowcases, and I would be fine with it.

She doesn’t wait for me to answer before disappearing into my roommate’s overflowing closet. I can see the clothing moving but can’t see Miranda around all the haphazardly hung garments. “Ah ha!” She reappears a few minutes later holding something white and lacy and sheer.

“I’m pretty sure that’s lingerie,” I respond.

“So?” Abby sounds almost offended. She would totally wear lingerie to a party.

“Why don’t I just print out a life-size cutout of the pic Ryan posted and wear that?” I snap.

Miranda takes my attitude in stride and rehangs the lingerie. “Point taken.” She goes to my closet. “Okay, so what do you have in here?”

“Can I please just wear jeans and a T-shirt?”

Both of my friends look at me like I’m crazy, then share a look between them.

“Fine,” Miranda gives in. “But I’m doing your hair and makeup.

“Fine, but only if you do me up like a drag queen with so much makeup no one will possibly recognize me.”

She snorts. “Deal.”