Beth Michele - Scarred Beautiful

My stomach is making wild noises and begging to be fed, so I snatch a plate and start piling food onto it. There’s no way I’ll get through the morning without fortification. Only a few people have arrived thus far, allowing me to have my choice of seats, and I pick one in the middle of the room.

Peyton wanders in a few minutes later and I wave her over in between bites of pastry. “Hey, you got down here early,” she says, taking off her suit jacket and hanging it on the chair.

I swallow a chunk of danish and chase it with some orange juice. “I woke up so I figured I’d get an early start.” It sounds good even though I know I’m completely transparent.

She takes a seat next to me, a slow smile building on her lips. “Is that so?”

“Yup,” I reply, emphasizing the P while stuffing part of another danish in my mouth.

“Whatever you say,” she mumbles, before getting up to grab a plate of food.

I look around the room every few minutes, more like seconds, wondering where Matt is. I hope he didn’t get stuck in another elevator. That would really suck. I continue to sneak glances at the door until Peyton returns.

“Who are you looking for, Fran?” she asks, setting her food on the table.

I fuss with the strand of pearls around my neck. “No one.”

“Well.” She smiles, buttering her bagel and edging closer to me. “No one isn’t here yet, and neither is Caleb.”

The right side of my mouth slants up and I go back to shoveling food in while waiting patiently for the conference to start, and not so patiently for Matt to arrive.

They start promptly at nine and there are a couple of speakers from design and architectural firms in London and Chicago communicating about design as inspiration. It’s only mildly interesting and I’m having a hard time focusing anyway, the strangest feeling coming over me, my back suddenly warm, my body on hyper alert. I casually scratch my shoulder with my chin and look back to find Matt wearing a dimpled smile and holding an index card in his hand with the words “Good morning sunshine” in bold, black letters. I grin, my dimple making a grand appearance.

Ripping off a piece of paper from the pad sitting in front of me, I scrawl, “Good morning tight-ass” in blue pen. I can’t believe I’m about to do this, but it was fun when I did it in middle school, so what the hell. “Hey, Peyton, where’s the bathroom?” I ask in a whisper.

“It’s outside and down the hall to the right.”

“Thanks. I’ll be right back.”

I stand up and walk to the back of the room, slinging the note onto Matt’s lap as I pass by him. The sound of his chuckling puts a smile on my face. When I reach the hallway, I let out several quick breaths. Did I really just do that? Yes, I did, and I loved every minute of it.

Since I’m out here, I decide I better make a trip to the bathroom. Once inside, I stop at the sink and brace my hands on the counter, staring at the person looking back at me from the mirror, the one I don’t recognize right now. The one who is being spontaneous. The one who knows that in ten days she’ll be back in New York and none of this will matter. I like this girl. I told myself I’d have fun while I was here and that’s what I fully intend to do.

I finish in the bathroom and open the door to find Matt leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, a grin sitting upon his lips.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself, sunshine.”

I make an attempt at words but my smile gets in the way and again I’m back in middle school. Looking down at the red swirls in the carpet, I try to compose myself and form a sentence. “What are you doing out here?”

“Waiting for you,” he replies, perusing me intently from my green pencil skirt and cream blouse, to the sliver of skin underneath my pearls. His eyes are all over my body dousing me with heat, and my belly is flip-flopping in several different directions.

He comes forward, placing his palm against the wall on one side of my head and hovering there. “How’d you sleep?”

“Well,” I reply, the high-pitch in my voice deceiving me when his minty breath hits my cheek, his gaze focused on my lips. “You?”

“Like a rock,” he says, licking his lips and inciting a riot within my chest, my heart unable to handle his proximity.

“We should get back,” I say casually, my voice cracking of its own volition and betraying me again.

“Yes, we should.” He doesn’t say anything else, but his hand brushes my waist and I close my eyes, savoring the feel of that fleeting touch. I need more of it.

We go back to our seats without another word and now all I can think about are Matt’s lips, well, his tongue, too. The pornographic images my mind is conjuring up are making it very difficult to sit through the rest of the conference. I’m squirming and fidgeting in my seat, my leg doing a continuous bounce under the table.

“What’s the matter with you?” Peyton asks, pausing from the elaborate doodles she’s drawing on her note pad. She’s obviously as enthralled as I am. “It’s like you’ve overdosed on caffeine.”

“Nothing,” I tell her in a whisper, “I’m just bored.”

The rest of the afternoon goes by slowly, the drip of molasses a marathon in comparison. They apparently don’t want us leaving the room since lunch is brought in, so we’re stuck here until late afternoon, which won’t come soon enough for me.

By the time four o’clock rolls around, I’m chomping at the bit to get up, my ass probably spreading several inches just from sitting so much. I spin around to search for Matt, only to discover he’s already left, and I’m hit with a stab of disappointment that I quickly shake off.

“What do you want to do now?” Peyton asks, gathering her notes and stuffing them into her leather briefcase.

“I don’t know. Do you want to hit up the spa, maybe get a massage?”

She lets out a wide yawn, covering her mouth with her hand. “I’d love a nap, but that should relax me enough to have one after.”

“Cool. Let’s go change and drop our stuff off in our rooms first,” I say, still looking around in hopes of spotting Matt.

We’re on our way upstairs when my phone buzzes to signal an incoming text. I look at the screen and my face instantly brightens. It’s from Matt.

Do you have plans tonight? Want to meet up at the bar later?

I reply immediately.

Let me check my busy schedule.

Then I make him wait.

“Who is it?” Peyton asks, pressing the call button on the elevator.

“It’s Matt. He wants to know if I have plans tonight and if I want to meet up at the bar.” I giggle, tapping my fingers on the screen. “I’m making him sweat.”

“Tell him, hell yes, and make sure to bring Caleb,” she says, piling her hair on top of her head in a bun.

My phone buzzes again.

Tick Tock. I’m waiting, sunshine.

I type back a response.

Looks like my schedule is clear.

Matt responds right back.

Good. Caleb and I are stopping to visit his dad for a while. I’ll text you when we get back. Hope things worked out okay with Peyton. Caleb was wondering what was up with her.

That was thoughtful.

Sounds good. Hope Caleb’s dad is feeling better.

I close the screen and wait for Peyton to attack, which takes her all of about two seconds.

“So?”

I toss the phone back in my purse and dig for some gum. “They’re on their way to visit Caleb’s dad. He said he’d text when they got back. He also mentioned that Caleb wondered what was up with you.”

“Shit,” she utters, biting the inside of her lip.

“Peyton,” I coax as we get in the elevator, “you need to either talk to Caleb about what you’re feeling or let it go and have fun like I’m doing. In ten days I’ll be headed back to New York but I’m going to make the most of it while I’m here.”

Peyton’s eyebrows pull in, a crinkle forming between them. “What do you mean ten days? We go back in four.”

“No, I’m taking an extended vacation,” I tell her, the thought of lounging in bed for an entire week very appealing.

“How come I didn’t know that and how’d you manage it?” she asks, her voice falling into a pit of frustration.

“Peyton, I haven’t taken any time off for a while,” I reply, looking past her at my reflection in the mirror. We exit the elevator once it reaches our floor and head to my room. “I have a lot of days accrued so I decided to take some now.” I insert the keycard but glance back at her. “Why don’t you see if you can take extra time off, too? Maybe the VP’s in a good mood this week.”

She toes off her shoes and jumps on the bed while I immediately head for the closet, my focus solely on choosing the right outfit for tonight. “Hey, what’s this?” she asks in a slow drawl. “A new addition to your wardrobe? It looks a little big.”

I turn around to find her holding up Matt’s t-shirt, a big, fat grin on her face. “That’s Matt’s.”

“Hmmm…I gathered as much. The question is, what’s it doing here? Something you want to share?”

I shake my head and snatch it out of her hands, throwing it in one of the drawers. “No. I got wet so he loaned it to me when I was at his place.”

“Wet, huh?” She smirks, sprawling her lean body out on the bed.

“Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m sorry to say it was nothing like that. It was all pretty innocent.” I sigh, realizing I wished it was anything but, the memory of sliding down Matt’s body still fresh in my mind.

“Okay, so what am I going to wear tonight?” I start pulling clothes off hangers and hurling them onto the bed. With a loud groan, I fling myself on top of the pile. “I don’t like any of these things. I’m not going.”

Peyton hits me hard with a silk scarf, my face reeling from the abrupt sting. “Are you psychotic? One minute you’re excited about going, and now you’re not going.” She gets up from the bed and walks into the closet. “Let’s see what we have here,” she says, as her slender fingers roll over each dress, stopping on one in particular. “This is perfect. Stunning and sexy, revealing with a little bit of mystery.”

I stare at the black, knee-length jersey dress that I know fits me like a glove. It has a plunging neckline, highlighting my breasts, and the rest of it molds to my curves. It’s actually my favorite one. “Sold,” I call out, before yanking it from her hands and sauntering to the bathroom. I take off my skirt and blouse and ease into the dress, the material smooth against my skin where little beads of excitement are popping up all over the place. I rub my arms and embrace the feeling. I haven’t felt this excited since…well, in a long time. I’m not going back there. I’m moving forward and smiling at the thought.

“Come on, hot stuff,” Peyton says, and I promenade out of the bathroom doing my best runway model impression, swinging my arms and swaying my hips. It reminds me of when Gabby and I played dress up in eighth grade, trying on her mother’s fancy high-heeled shoes and strutting around the house.

She makes a whistling sound through her teeth. “Shit, Fran. Wait until Matt sees you. You look gorgeous, but we need to do hair and makeup. Let’s go.”

By the time Peyton’s finished, my eyes are smoked out, my skin is bronzed, and my lips are a crimson red, a stunning contrast against the dark backdrop of waves she’s created with the help of a trusty round brush and a little styling gel.

“Wow!” I exclaim, “I don’t remember the last time I looked this good.”

“You’re welcome,” she says with a haughty smile. “I do good work. Oh, and for the shoes, might I suggest the black Louboutins.”

“Thanks, Peyton. I really appreciate it. Honestly, I…this means a lot to me.”

She pushes my hair back over my shoulders, spinning me around to face the mirror. “You’re gorgeous, Fran. I can’t wait to see the look on Matt’s face when he sees you.”

Neither can I.

“Mom, Dad,” Caleb calls out as we walk through the front door of the house. His mom comes bolting out of the kitchen in her bare feet, her honey brown shoulder-length hair tossing about, her tawny-colored eyes filled with adoration. A white apron with the words “Kiss the Cook” graces her petite frame.