“I mean…yeah, I like to be touched. I like to be complimented. I don’t need someone telling me how beautiful I am every second of every day, but if I dress up, it’s nice to know that someone notices me.”

“That’s just human decency,” he says softly. “For what it’s worth, when you wear shorts and a T-shirt, you’re beautiful. When you wear a pencil skirt and a tucked-in shirt…equally beautiful.”

“You don’t have to say that.” The minute the words leave my mouth, I know I shouldn’t have muttered them. It just feels reactionary, to not accept a compliment but rather put myself down.

And Wilder calls me out on it.

He lifts up and pushes me to my back. Even in the dark, I can see the crinkle in his brow. “We’ve talked about this. I don’t say shit just to say it. When I say you’re beautiful, I fucking mean it. Got it, Scottie?”

I nod my head, feeling ashamed that I allow myself to think such negative thoughts about myself. “I’m sorry. I know we talked about it. I’m just…I’m struggling to believe what’s true and what’s…what’s you just being nice to me.”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“Well, you’re my best friend’s brother, and I know you’re on a mission to help me. And when people are trying to help others, they sometimes…embellish to build confidence, you know? And I’m trying to figure out what is true and what is embellishing.”

He slowly nods but keeps his eyes on me. They feel like they’re boring a hole straight into my soul as he says, “I wouldn’t fucking embellish on that shit. Do you want me to give it to you straight? Because I will.”

“That’s not necess⁠—”