She’s beautiful inside and out.
Completely. But tonight, she’s different—quiet and unhappy. I try to coax her out of her shell, but she seems to curl in on herself, so I break my own rules. Rounding the table, I ignore the game we’re playing. Justin is upstairs packing. It’s just her and me, which is probably why I’m so brave. But that longing, that hurt on her face, has me breaking every rule. I need to comfort her, to help her.
She calls to that protective side of me.
Kneeling at her feet, I clasp her hands in her lap, mine dwarfing hers. Her eyes stay locked on them, my tan flesh against hers, yet she doesn’t pull away. “You okay?”
She nods and goes to give me a fake answer, so I reach up, clench her chin hard, and force her eyes to mine. “Do not lie to me, angel. What’s wrong?” I demand, ordering her to tell me, giving her no room for lies or evasion. She will tell me, or I will force it out of her.
“I—do you think I’m ugly?” she whispers.
I blink in astonishment. Lexi is very comfortable in her own skin, and she owns her beauty… What’s brought this on? “Why?” I snap.
She flinches, but I refuse to look away. “Words, angel, use your words, or I’ll go ask my son.”
She sighs, tears filling her eyes. “We had a fight about me dancing. He said I want to do it because I think I’m not good enough, that I need them to want me to prove I’m not ugly.” She hiccups on the last word, and fire races through me. How fucking dare he?
How dare he try and break this beautiful creature before me? How dare he hurt her because of his own insecurities? He should worship at her feet and watch her dance and sing proudly, knowing that all those men and women want her, but she’s going home with him. I want to wring his neck, but she’s still staring at me. Those big blue eyes stay on me, waiting. I have to answer. I have to.
“No, he’s wrong. I’ve never seen you dance, but I know that’s not why you do it. You’re beautiful, Lexi, so goddamn beautiful it hurts sometimes, and not just because of your face or body.”
She sniffles, and I wipe away a tear, cupping her face. “It’s in the little things.” She tries to look away, so I tighten my hand and force her eyes to mine, my voice going low and gravelly as I admit it, as I reveal just how much I watch her.
“You don’t see yourself clearly. You can’t see when your face lights up in laughter, when you smile freely when no one is around, or the way it softens in peace. You can’t see yourself when you’re talking about your passions, the way your eyes sparkle and your voice rises and becomes faster. The way your lips never stop smiling, the way you lean into people when you’re talking. The way you stare at them as they speak, giving them your full attention. You don’t see the way your tears fill those baby blues and call to everyone.”
She gasps, and I move closer, pushing between her thighs, forcing myself there. She swallows again, her eyes flickering between mine nervously. “Angel,” I murmur, “you’re beautiful, a pure, kind soul. Your beauty astounds me. Every time I think you can’t get any more gorgeous, you do. It kills me. Ruins me.”
My eyes drop hungrily to her lips, and hers drop to mine before our gazes meet again. “So beautiful,” I whisper longingly.
I hear his footsteps, and so does she. A smile curls her lips as she rolls them into her mouth for a moment. “Thank you, Tyler,” she whispers just for me, before letting go of my hands and dashing her tears away. She rebuilds herself as I watch, and I have never felt such happiness, knowing she let me see her weakness, her uncertainty, and let me help.
“You ready, babe?” Justin calls, like she’s a fucking dog.
She stands and slides past me. “Coming,” she replies, her voice not fully recovered, but he doesn’t question it—idiot. She freezes at the door to the living room as I stand to watch her.
She sucks in a breath and turns to me, quickly covering the distance. Her hand goes to my chest as she leans up on her toes and presses her lips to my stubbly cheek. I breathe in her sweet scent, enjoying the feeling of her warmth, of her lips on my skin. She lingers there longer than what’s considered polite before falling back to her feet. Dropping her hand, she looks at me as she steps away. A flash of confusion sparks in her eyes.
Then she’s gone as quickly as she came.
I watch her go as my hand rises to cup my cheek, and I capture her warmth there. Such an innocent move, and yet I’m almost spilling in my jeans.
Lexi
Two Months Later…
I guess I know where it went wrong. It was the moment I met those dark eyes and saw that arrogant smirk. When I realised I wanted his dad more than him. When he spoke beautiful words, which I still repeat in my head, and when I realised he wanted me too. Then, every day since, every innocent touch, smile, laugh, and joke made me forget everything and everyone—including Justin.
That night, with Justin’s arm across my stomach, I couldn’t sleep, wishing it was someone else’s. So yes, I can understand why and when. It drove a wedge between us, even if Justin didn’t know why and I don’t speak about it.
I didn’t even notice when he started cheating, and honestly if I did, I don’t think I would have cared. He became a chore, someone I felt I had to be with, because he was good, kind, and sweet… But how sweet is a man who can screw another woman while you are in the next room at a party?
I didn’t find out that night, no, I found out about two days ago. And honestly, I was relieved. Shitty, but true, and when I confronted him and he broke it off, claiming I was too much work, wanting too much, I smiled. I smiled because all I felt was freedom. It was finally over.
Dumb, I know.
Maybe a part of me stayed because it was my only connection to Tyler. Maybe I stayed because I was tired of being hurt by those bad boys that I fell for so easily, with their dark eyes and panty wetting smiles. The ones who would call me hot before beautiful, and who saw my body before my smile.
It’s over.
Shouldn’t I be upset?
We were together for almost six months. One of my longest relationships for years, yet I’m unbothered. I even wished him happiness as I walked away. He had been upset, angry, and I realised he was trying to hurt me, to get a rise out of me.
Did he know, even as I lay in bed next to him at night, I was miles away?
That even before it was over, I had one foot out of the door?
Probably. I never wanted to hurt him, but I think I did, and when I think of him, I feel guilty…and, okay, slightly hurt. He was supposed to be a good guy, goddammit, and even as relieved as I am, I’m pissed he cheated. He could have dumped me, anything, but cheating? Asshole move.
I’ve been talking myself around in circles for days, vacillating from laughing to crying, from hurt to happy. And when I crash, I realise one thing—I want revenge, I want to get even.
But it isn’t until tonight that I know how. I am currently on stage, blowing kisses and winking as I hold feathers to my chest. My blonde hair is perfectly curled, and I wear only pearls beneath the feathers. The spotlight hits me so I can’t see the audience in the cosy club, but I can hear them. Their applause is thunderous, and they stomp their feet and cheer as they demand more. I bow again, gesturing at the band, and the spotlight fades. I turn to head off stage, my set done for the night, but my eyes catch on a table near the stage but in the shadows.