Chapter 8: Chest Contemplation

Chapter 8:
Chest Contemplation

 

THE WAY I FELT ABOUT Shimamura’s chest was a surprisingly good litmus test for my feelings toward her in general.

Ten minutes into the new year and the first thing I found myself thinking about was Shimamura’s boobs. It sounded like a joke on paper, but it was actually a lot deeper than you might expect.

The question was: Did I want to see her boobs?

Obviously I had never seen her naked, or even in a swimsuit, since I hadn’t taken part in swimming lessons at school…but did I want to?

“Hmmm…”

Kneeling on my bed, I pressed a finger to my temple and ruminated on this. Ten minutes ago we were talking on the phone. I bet she’d never guess I’d be thinking about her boobs right now.

I could hear the clock ticking loudly with each passing second—the same clock I’d watched like a hawk during the minutes leading up to midnight.

In my mind’s eye, I imagined Shimamura in her school uniform. Then I imagined her without her jacket. At this point I already felt like a creep, and I despised myself for it, but kept going regardless. Next, I imagined her without her shirt on—just a bra.

Come to think of it, in the locker room I’d once caught a glimpse of her wearing a green… Look, it doesn’t need to be that accurate!

But this next step was where the trouble started. Did I want to see what she looked like without her bra on? If yes, then I was almost certainly in love with her…which was a problem in and of itself. A big problem, maybe, if our parents found out. And if I told Shimamura I wanted to touch her boobs, then she’d get super creeped out, and I really wanted to avoid that if possible. Hence, here I was, up to my eyeballs in introspection.

Believe it or not, so far I was actually surprisingly level-headed about this. It was a little anticlimactic.

I could confirm that I didn’t feel any disgust or revulsion toward the idea of seeing her boobs, but at the same time, I couldn’t detect any active enthusiasm, either. Admittedly I hadn’t paid a lot of attention to them thus far. That seemed like a pretty good indicator of my relative interest level.

I probably just wasn’t interested in her in that way. Yeah, definitely not. Weird… I guess I’m just a normal girl after all. This came as a huge relief, actually, because for a while there it really didn’t look like that was the case.

I collapsed back on my bed and stretched out. Nah, I don’t see her that way. I smiled as I stared up at the boomerang on my wall. This revelation was so freeing. Now I could rest easy knowing my feelings for Shimamura were pure and platonic. I had nothing to be ashamed of.

I thought back over tonight’s phone call, a stupid smirk plastered on my face.

“Sweet dreams… I really like that…”

I didn’t really have a reason why. It just warmed my heart, that’s all. I found myself wishing I could hear it every night.

When she brought up my thighs out of nowhere, however, my heart nearly stopped. At the time, I immediately sat up in bed and started feeling up my own legs through my pajamas. And if she liked them the way they were, then I’d just have to make sure they didn’t change—no additions, no subtractions. But how would I manage that? Measure them regularly or something?

I rolled over onto my stomach and buried my face into my pillow. Yeah, I could do this to Shimamura’s chest, no problem. After all, I was just a…normal…girl…

“Bury my face…into her chest…?”

I jumped up. The room was spinning. Oh god, why do I feel so humiliated? My cheeks were so hot, it made my head hurt. I didn’t even know that was possible.

“Wha…wha…?!”

Clutching my face, I struggled to process this. Why am I burning up like a furnace?

Once more, I envisioned Shimamura in my mind’s eye—not naked, but dressed in her winter uniform. Then I focused on the modest swell of her breasts beneath her clothes…and imagined leaning my face close…until I was right up against her cleavage.

Then I recoiled—both in my mind and in real life. I sat back on my rear as my face boiled beet red. If this was a cartoon, I’d probably have steam gushing from every orifice.

“That can’t be right…”

Naturally, I didn’t know what her boobs felt like. I knew what mine felt like, you know, washing them in the shower and all that, but they weren’t anything special. And yet here I was, freaking out over the mere thought of touching someone else’s? What happened to being a normal girl?!

This time I imagined myself reaching out with my hand. Reflexively, I squeezed my eyes shut…which didn’t change anything, since this was taking place in my mind. Pursing my lips, I envisioned pressing my hand against Shimamura’s chest. Instantly, I bolted upright.

I was jumping around so much, there was dust flying everywhere. As I gazed up at it, I slowly realized that this was more than just a “burying my face” thing.

I couldn’t touch her at all.

Not literally couldn’t, but shouldn’t. If I was overreacting this badly, then clearly I…wanted to touch them? Even though I didn’t care about looking at them? How does that work?

“Oh god, what? What’s wrong with me?!”

I clutched my hair. This wasn’t normal at all. This was a problem. A huge problem!

I should have quit while I was ahead. Why in God’s name did I keep digging? Now I’ve made a discovery I can never take back!

Okay, calm down. I just need to sleep on it. Come tomorrow morning, I’ll realize I don’t actually feel that way at all…right?

Just when I was finally starting to feel normal, my stupid brain yanked the rug right out from under me, and now I was getting all worked up over nothing.

“Well, that totally backfired. Great.”

I had dug my way out of prison, only to wind up in a different, worse prison.

It seemed I would be agonizing over Shimamura for another year to come.