Beth Michele - Scarred Beautiful

“So…now that you know I alphabetize all of my food and my shirts and pants are all arranged in my closet according to color, tell me something else I don’t know about you.”

“Hmph.” She taps her finger against her mouth and my eyes can’t help but follow her there. I fight it, but I’m drawn to her lips. But it’s not just her lips, I’m starting to realize, it’s her, which means I’m royally fucked. There’s something about being with her that makes me want to throw caution to the wind, to mess up my orderly little world that suddenly seems so incredibly boring.

“I have a bit of a Twizzlers addiction,” she states, latching onto her purse and rummaging through it. “Crap, I thought I had some left.”

“I think you mean Red Vines,” I correct with a cocky smile, leaning back on my hands and crossing my legs.

“No. Red Vines suck. I meant Twizzlers.”

I ruffle my hair with my fingers, pushing it away from my eyes. “Well, I know all about Twizzlers from growing up on the East Coast, but you’re on the West Coast now baby, and we’re Red Vines all the way.”

She plays with the strap of her heel, sliding it off to rub the bottom of her foot. “Well, lucky for me then, I’ll be back on the East Coast in eleven days.”

Of course she’s going back to New York, she has a life there, but something about the thought of her leaving turns my stomach.

“Wait, what do you mean eleven days?” I ask, because the conference is over in four, but somehow I’m excited now that I might get the opportunity to spend more time with her.

“I’m staying on for a week after, you know, kind of like an extended vacation.” She releases a long, drawn-out sigh. “I haven’t had a vacation in a while, plus I want to try to see my mom.”

“What about your dad?” I question, just as the elevator roars to life and starts moving again. Fran’s eyes grow dim and she frowns, making me think that wasn’t a topic she was too interested in discussing anyway.

“Fuck!” I happen to glance at my watch and notice it’s eleven o’clock, which means I missed my presentation.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, gathering her briefcase from the floor.

“Well, the CEO is probably not going to be pleased that I missed the presentation.” I shake my head, not in the mood to face his wrath when things don’t go according to plan.

“Yeah, well, it couldn’t be helped, Matt. We were stuck. I’m sure he’ll understand that,” she says, before pressing the button for the next floor, and I rub my chin and eye her suspiciously because we’re going in the wrong direction.

“What are you doing? We need to go to the lobby.”

The elevator stops on the twelfth floor and she grabs my hand, dragging me through the doors as they slide open, pushing the up arrow on the car next to it.

“Where are we going?” I furrow my brow, looking to each end of the hallway, trying to make sense of what the hell she’s doing.

“Let’s play hooky,” she says with an excited gleam in her eyes, and for some reason my whole body tingles in anticipation at the thought of doing something spontaneous…with Fran.

“Hooky? What about the conference?” My insides have already begun their internal duel over what I should do in this situation.

“Matt, come on. It’s the first day and it ends at one today. We already missed two hours anyway. Come on, let’s get out of here,” she urges, flashing me that irresistible smile as she waits for me to answer.

I bite the inside of my lip and I’m sure she can literally see the wheels turning as I debate with myself. “Okay, why not?” I agree, just as the elevator opens and we step inside.

“Great!” She claps her hands and looks pointedly at me. “So what should we do?” she asks, with the face of a small child about to embark on a new adventure.

An idea pops in my head and I eye her clothes realizing we’re not appropriately dressed for what I have planned. “Okay, I thought of something we can do but we’re going to have to change.”

She looks down at herself and then back up at me. “Why?”

“Because you’re going to need comfortable clothing. Throw on a pair of jeans and some sneakers and I’ll be down to get you in a few minutes.” When we reach her floor, I hold the doors open and she gets out, stopping just a few inches from me.

She stares at me with those effervescent green eyes and it’s so hypnotic I can barely remember my own name. “Thank you, Matt, for being there and helping calm me down. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been there. I probably would’ve freaked out.” She giggles. “Oh wait, I did.”

“I’m glad I was there to help and I think you did really well,” I tell her with sincerity, “because if it was me, and there had been a clown on there, it might not have ended as well.” I throw her a wink and she strolls off, her carefree laugh echoing through the hallway.

The moment the door closes, I exhale a shaky breath. The whole experience in the elevator comes crashing down on me, relief and something else mixing in my gut. Thank goodness Matt was there or else I don’t know how it would’ve turned out. I smile, thinking about the scary clowns. Matt may hide it well, but behind that composed exterior is someone vulnerable. I inwardly cringe, hoping that during our conversation he didn’t pick up on my uneasiness. Scarred for Life. He doesn’t even realize how that phrase fits me so perfectly. I can actually picture it on a movie marquee.

I snap out of my thoughts long enough to remember that I just agreed to go somewhere with him. Me and my bright ideas. It also jogs my brain that I need to call Peyton.

I dial her number and after five rings she finally answers. “Where the hell are you?!” she screams into the phone. “It’s almost time for our lunch break!”

“Geez, nice to talk to you, too,” I shoot back.

“Sorry,” she mutters, her voice softening, “I was starting to get worried.”

“We just got off the elevator. It was kind of crazy, but Matt managed to calm me down. He was really great, actually.”

“Realllly,” she responds, her voice taking on a seductive tone.

“Anyway, I only have a second. We’re skipping out on the rest of the conference today. Matt’s taking me somewhere and I need to get ready,” I explain, holding the cell phone between my head and neck, sliding my shoes off and shoving my skirt down my legs.

“Where’s he taking you?” she asks, and there’s a muffled voice in the background and then a giggle from Peyton, leaving me to assume she’s with Caleb.

“I don’t know, but he’ll be here any second so I have to go. I’ll call you later.” I click the phone off as she says goodbye, pushing the buttons through the holes of my blouse and tearing it off.

After undressing at warp speed, I run into the bathroom and do a quick swipe of my teeth with the toothbrush, unclasp my hair from the tie, and comb through it to smooth out the tangles. I dab some blush on my cheeks and a hint of gloss on my lips before making my way back out to the closet and yanking a pair of skinny jeans from a hanger. While I’m tugging them on, a green tank top catches my eye and I slide it over my head just as a knock sounds at the door. I grab my sneakers and open it, standing on one foot as I try to coax a shoe on.

“Wow, I didn’t realize you’d be jumping up and down when you saw me,” he jokes, and while he’s distracted by laughter I take a second to check out the low-slung jeans and tight white t-shirt he’s sporting. “So, you all set?”

“Yes. But I’d still like to know what we’re doing.” I close the door and we walk side by side to the elevators. Matt’s eyes veer to the left and casually roam my body, my skin prickling at his attention.

“Fran, this was your idea, wasn’t it? And it’s a surprise. You don’t like surprises?”

“I know, and I like surprises,” I reply, as we step in the elevator, “but I like to be prepared for them.”

“Huh?” Matt shakes his head, a bewildered look pricking the blue of his eyes. “Then it’s not a surprise, Fran.”

We make it down to the lobby and outside the hotel entrance, finally seeing the light of day, and it’s a glorious one. The sun is warm and bright, helping to counteract the goose bumps on my arms from the frigid air conditioning inside.

The valet brings the car up pretty quickly and Matt opens the door for me before crossing to the driver’s side. He climbs in and rolls down our windows, pushing a button to slide the roof open. I instantly tilt my head back against the seat so I can feel the sun beating down on my face.

He eases the car onto the side streets of LA and we ride in comfortable silence until I dangle my feet out the window and Matt finally breaks it. “Hey sugar, watch the shoes near my car,” he says, half-joking, and I emphasize the half because I don’t really think he’s amused.

“Lighten up, sweet cheeks.” I angle my head to look at him. “It’s only a car.”

“Sweet cheeks?” he utters, and then he laughs so hard he snorts.

By the time we make it to what I gather is Matt’s condo, I’ve got both feet hanging out the window and I’ve sang to the likes of Pink and Maroon 5. I think I even caught Matt bobbing his head a couple of times to the music.

For me, it’s impossible not to be carried away by the melody and lyrics. Music has always been a big part of my life and has gotten me through some pretty hard times. There’s a song for my every mood and I always marvel at how you can go without hearing a song for ten years, yet once you hear it again, you can recall every single word as if you just listened to it yesterday. Every single memory the song jars is raw and vivid, as if you’ve stepped back in time, the feelings bleeding out all over again. I touch my hand to my belly and wince at the analogy.

When I look up from my thoughts, I suddenly don’t feel like I’m in Kansas anymore. Matt’s condo looks like a Tuscan villa in Italy with three stories, loads of windows, a clay tile roof and cream slab exterior. There are various trees surrounding the property and a two-car attached garage. I don’t know what I pictured, but this definitely wasn’t it.

“Wow, this is really nice, Matt,” I remark, taking in the luxury cars parked in each of the driveways.

“Thanks. I like it here. I’m close enough to work, but far enough removed from the craziness of the city,” he says, opening his door and coming around to the passenger side to help me out.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot two little girls playing hopscotch and smile. “I used to love to play hopscotch!” I say excitedly, as Matt stops and watches them, too. “Gabby and I used to play a lot, except instead of rocks, we’d use Jolly Ranchers.”

“Jolly Ranchers, the candy?” he asks, as if I’m speaking another language.

“Yup, the one and only. We’d use those and when we were done playing, we’d eat them.”

“So after you’d jumped all over them, you ate them? That’s kinda unsanitary,” he comments, screwing up his face in mock disgust.

I laugh at his shocked expression. “When it comes to Jolly Ranchers, anything goes. So, do I get the grand tour?”

“Later.” He smiles warmly. “First we’re going to let loose. You’ve been telling me I need to work on that, right?”

“Well, yeah.” I raise a brow and place a hand on my hip. “What have you got up your sleeve, Dixon?”

He ignores my question and walks over to the side panel of the garage, pressing a four digit code into the console, prompting the first door to open instantly. Inside sits a red motorcycle accented with black and silver, shined and polished to perfection, the word ‘Ducati’ scrawled in large, white letters on the side. My eyes bulge from their sockets just in time for Matt to turn around and catch the terrified expression on my face.

“You have a motorcycle?” I gulp. “We’re not taking the car?”

He chuckles, striding past me and pulling two helmets down from a wooden rack. “No, little spark, we’re gonna grip the open road.”

The lump of fear in my throat makes it harder for the next words to find their way out of my mouth. “My ass would rather grip the front seat of your car.”

Matt raises an eyebrow, an amused smile crossing his lips at my rather sexual innuendo, albeit unintended, and proceeds to walk the bike out even as the fear starts to eat me alive. He places the helmet on his head and then spins around to put one on me, tightening the strap under my neck before tapping it three times. “Cute.”