Chapter 138
Summer's POV
"Maybe it's the dress?" Owen suggested. "Like, good tailoring or whatever?"
"Dude. No amount of tailoring explains..." Blake made a vague gesture at his own chest. "That."
My face went hot. They were talking about the competition photo. About my body. About me like I was some kind of before-and-after project, like my appearance was public property to be analyzed and debated.
"I'm going to kill him," Mia said flatly.
"Don't." I was already standing, my hands shaking so hard I had to grip the edge of the table. "I'll handle it."
"Summer, wait—"
But I was already moving, cutting across the cafeteria with my heart pounding in my ears. I could feel eyes following me, could hear the whispers starting up again, but I didn't care. I was so tired of being quiet. So tired of letting people talk about me like I couldn't hear them, like I didn't matter.
I reached Blake's table and slammed my hand down on the surface hard enough to make their trays rattle.
"Give me the phone," I said.
Blake looked up, startled. For a second, something like guilt flashed across his face. Then he recovered, leaning back in his chair with that infuriating smirk. "Hey, Summer. Nice photo on the bulletin board. Very... professional."
"The phone," I repeated. "Now."
"I don't think—"
I reached out and plucked it from his hand before he could finish. The screen showed exactly what I'd feared—my competition photo, zoomed in on my torso, with a comment thread below speculating about whether I'd gotten plastic surgery or just "finally learned to dress."
I felt something cold and sharp settle in my chest.
"This is what you do?" I looked around the table, meeting each of their eyes in turn. "Sit around analyzing girls' bodies like it's a science project?"
"We were just—"
"Just what?" I cut Owen off. "Just objectifying me? Just reducing me to body parts you can rate and critique?"
"It's not that serious," Blake said, but his voice had lost some of its confidence. "We were giving you a compliment. You look good."
"A compliment." I laughed, but it came out harsh. "Right. Because nothing says 'compliment' like zooming in on someone's chest and debating whether it's real."
The table had gone silent. Around us, I could feel the cafeteria's attention shifting, conversations dying out as people turned to watch. But I couldn't stop now. Wouldn't stop.
"You want to know the truth?" I leaned forward, my voice dropping to something quieter but no less intense. "I worked my ass off for that competition. I practiced until my fingers bled. I pushed myself harder than I've ever pushed before. And I earned that spot at Regional Finals. But all you see when you look at that photo is my body. All you care about is whether I'm attractive enough to meet your standards."
Blake's face had gone red. "Look, I didn't mean—"
"Yes, you did." I straightened up, still holding his phone. "You meant exactly what you said. You just didn't expect to have to say it to my face."
I deleted the photo from his screen, then handed the phone back. "Next time you want to have an opinion about my body, try keeping it to yourself."
I turned and walked away before anyone could respond, my legs shaking so badly I wasn't sure they'd carry me. But I made it back to my table, where Mia was watching with wide eyes.
"Holy shit," she breathed. "Summer, that was—"
"I need to get out of here." I grabbed my bag, my salad forgotten. "I can't—I need air."
"I'll come with you."
"No." I shook my head. "I just... I need a minute. Okay?"
Mia looked like she wanted to argue, but something in my face must have convinced her. "Okay. But text me if you need anything. I mean it."
I nodded and headed for the doors, pushing through into the hallway. It was mostly empty now, everyone still at lunch, and the silence felt like a blessing. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes, trying to slow my racing heart, trying not to think about Blake's smirk or the way the entire cafeteria had been watching or the fact that Kieran still hadn't texted and what if something was actually wrong, what if his dad had come back, what if—
That was when I felt it. That familiar prickling awareness that meant someone was watching me.
I opened my eyes and turned my head. At the end of the hallway, partially hidden in the shadow of the stairwell, stood Kieran.
He was too far away for me to read his expression clearly, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his right hand was shoved deep in his pocket while his left hung loose at his side. He'd seen everything. Had to have seen it. The bulletin board, the cafeteria scene, maybe even heard what I'd said to Blake.
For a long moment, we just looked at each other across the empty hallway.
Then he started walking toward me, and something in my chest loosened even as it tightened, because whatever was coming next, at least I wouldn't have to face it alone.