Beth Michele - Scarred Beautiful

I slide on my strappy sandals and check myself in the mirror for the tenth time. The floral skirt in shades of bright orange clings to my hips, while the white tank top clings to other parts of me that I didn’t think I was trying to draw attention to, but maybe I am.

Running a brush through my hair one more time, I pull it up in a high ponytail, take a deep breath, and wait for Matt, Caleb, and Peyton. I walk over to the window and glance out at the city. The day is stunning. There isn’t a white cloud in the backdrop of baby blue that coats the sky, and the sun bouncing off the buildings leaves them with a brilliant sparkle. There are rows of cars lining the freeway, yet no one’s in a hurry. I can definitely see the draw to LA—the laid back attitude and the year-round beautiful weather here make all the difference in the world.

There’s a knock at the door and I swallow one more breath before I casually walk over to answer it. It’s not like I’m in a hurry or anything. The moment I open it, I suddenly feel the need for a paper bag so I can hyperventilate. Matt’s standing there with a dimpled smile, a pair of board shorts revealing strong, tanned legs, and a white t-shirt that accentuates his solid abs and pecs. His sandy hair is slightly messed and his crystal blue eyes are reminiscent of the sky I was just admiring moments ago. He’s really handsome but in a sexy way.

“Hey,” I utter, when I can finally find my voice and stop blatantly checking him out.

“Hey, yourself,” he replies, moving his eyes over my frame with appreciation. “Oh,” he starts, grinning, “before you say anything, I’m not here for sex, just a day trip.”

His comment makes me smile and my cheeks turn pink. He’s giving me a dose of my own medicine and it’s my turn to volley back. “Oh well”—I flip my ponytail around my finger—“and to think I might have said yes.”

My words catch him off guard and he raises an eyebrow before sweeping his gaze up and over my body once again. “One point for you,” he admits, chuckling, “let’s go.”

Jesus, if she isn’t the most beautiful, aggravating woman I’ve ever seen. I lag behind her just so I can watch her hips sway in that snug little skirt she’s wearing. She’s got killer legs, long, toned, and lean, and I have to close my eyes momentarily and breathe deeply in an attempt to remove the image of them wrapped around me.

She turns around right after the air has left my lungs, a steady hand on her hip. “What are you doing?”

“Uh…nothing, really, I’m…moving a little slow because I worked out pretty hard this morning.” I fall in step with her, disappointed that I can no longer stare at her ass.

Fran arches one of her dark, manicured brows, a question on the tip of her tongue. “So how’s your ass this morning?”

My eyebrows pull in, while my mind tries to unearth just what the hell she’s talking about. “Excuse me?”

“You know.” She looks behind me, pointing with her finger. “I was wondering if you were able to remove the stick.”

“You’ve got a little spark, don’t you?” I ask, chuckling at her constant ability to get under my freaking skin. It’s like she’s yanking my chain and I’m on my hands and knees, begging for her to pull just a little bit harder.

“Maybe…and maybe not,” she utters, shooting me a wink and tilting her head, that gorgeous silky hair falling over her shoulder making me wonder what it would feel like between my fingers.

We get on the elevator, neither of us saying a word, but I can feel the energy charging the air between us. She does something to me—what, I’m not quite sure—but there’s something nagging at me, telling me to find out what the hell it is. I just don’t know if I should listen or not.

I raise my eyes to meet hers. “What, no sex comments on the elevator today?”

“Actions speak louder than words,” she taunts, wetting her lips with her tongue, and I nearly explode in my pants.

Holy fuck.

I’ve never had sex in an elevator before, but there’s a first time for everything. One thing’s for damn sure, I’m about two seconds away from finding out if it lives up to the hype.

My pulse is thumping feverishly and I’m suddenly anxious to get off this elevator. His eyes have darkened and his stance has shifted. I struggle to break his stare, tapping my foot nervously and watching the numbers light up on the panel as we make our way down to the lobby. My breathing picks up and the walls are closing in, the feelings foreign and strange because I don’t think they have anything to do with my old fear of elevators but everything to do with the guy standing before me. Thankfully the car dings, and when it does, I practically run out, eager to get away from him.

I smack into an elegant arrangement of pink lilies on the center table in the lobby. The scent fills my nose, making me feel dizzy, bathing me in Kyle’s memory, the one that invades my mind and envelops my heart. The silent reminder of why I’ll always be alone.

It wasn’t until recently that I finally came to terms with waking up on Fridays knowing I wouldn’t receive those fragrant lilies he always sent. I’ll never forget that last delivery. It was the Friday before we left for Hawaii. The card in Kyle’s handwriting read: There is only one word to describe your eyes…mesmerizing. There is only one word to describe your heart…beautiful. There is only one word to describe our love…forever.

A tear wets my lashes, sliding down my cheek, and I thumb it away. My heart scrunches tight with so much longing and there’s nowhere to channel it, so it sits inside, eating away at me.

I feel Matt’s hand on my shoulder and realize I’ve disappeared momentarily, as he draws me from my past and into my present…the one without Kyle…only me and my scars.

“Are you okay?” he questions softly, his voice laced with concern, his hand providing touch when I need it so desperately.

Without thinking, I throw my arms around him, needing to be held by someone, anyone who can take this awful pain away—the ache that comes from the hole in my heart, the ugliness that resides there serving as a barricade to anyone trying to break in.

He holds me for what feels like minutes as my body sags against his embrace, the warmth of his arms a temporary shelter from the storm brewing within me.

I pull away embarrassed and now unsure of my ability to get through the day, the lure to go back to bed and curl into a ball is strong. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly, unable to look at him, “I don’t think I can do this.”

He reaches down and tilts my chin to meet his gaze, his blue eyes burning with intensity. “I don’t know what you’re going through right now, but I’m here if you want to talk about it. And…as far as today goes, I understand, but I’d love for you to come. It seems like it would do you some good to get some fresh air, and well, we were planning on taking a drive along the Pacific Coast Highway, to Malibu.”

I’m just about to respond when Peyton comes up beside me with a sympathetic smile. “You okay?”

Matt walks away to give us privacy, which I appreciate, and as soon as he’s out of earshot she turns to face me. “What happened?” she asks, her tone gentle and caring, as she pushes a stray hair away from my face.

I let out a huge sigh, my whole body shaking with the exhale of breath. “I saw the lilies and it made me think of Kyle. I just…miss him, that’s all.” I couldn’t tell her how I miss someone looking at me the way that Kyle used to, like the sun rose and set in my eyes. Someone that would touch me with feathery hands and breaths, that would look at me naked with the lights on…and still want me.

“Oh, Fran, I don’t know what to say. I can’t pretend to know how that feels. But I do know one thing, I’m worried about you. Between last night and today, well….” She cocks her head to the side and studies my face. “I think it would be good for you to get out. I’m sure it’s the last thing you want to do, but I think you should push yourself. I can’t stand the thought of you staying behind. Besides,” she laughs out bitterly, “my mom has been calling my cell phone non-stop since I didn’t show up at my sister’s little celebration, and I want to call her and gloat when I’m standing on the beaches of Malibu.” She winks and links her arm with mine. “So, what do you say? Let’s go enjoy the day with two of the hottest guys in LA.”

The corners of my lips curve up, the thought of spending the day in bed suddenly not all that appealing. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Her face bursts with a satisfied smile and we head further into the lobby seeking out Matt and Caleb who are seated in two leather chairs, deep in conversation. Our sandals click loudly on the tile floor signaling our presence, and Matt’s eyes climb to mine, a genuine smile playing on his lips. It’s hard not to smile back.

“Ladies! Let’s blow this joint!” Caleb says excitedly, moving in to squeeze Peyton’s side and pull her close. Matt steals a look in my direction and I shrug, praying that Caleb and Peyton aren’t groping each other during the entire trip.

The valet pulls Matt’s car around, a little too fast for his liking apparently, judging by the scowl on his face.

“Holy fucking shit,” Peyton shouts, “this is your car? This thing costs more than I make in a year.”

Matt chuckles while the rest of us break out into laughter. That’s Peyton—funny as hell but possessing the tact of a fly.