I come out the bathroom with a sigh of relief, wearing the cute dress Amanda bought for me which I analyze on my body in the cheval mirror. I do a 360-turn trying to keep my eyes on my reflection.
It's not like it's doing any wonders to my body. I've always looked plain, and the dress is helping just a little. I can't deny the helplessness I feel as I think of Nayla and her effortless beauty. She's just so perfect it hurts. I've literally seen her on magazine covers, she's that girl. She's a model and also the perfect student. She's literally a celebrity at school. And I wish I was just like her.
I realize a heaviness in my chest increase as I struggle to breath. And looking back at my reflection, I see the tears I'm trying to hold back.
Nayla was born into riches. I wasn't. Nayla was born to be the most beautiful. She has the most majestic hair that it kills me to look at my crunchy ass braids. Take those braids off and you got the tightest, shortest hair that hasn't been able to grow any further for six years.
She may have the same skin tone as me, but she's got the clearest and most vibrant skin. I don't have acne anymore, but my face is still scarred and nothing can even save it from looking so plain.
God I hate myself.
I turn around and find shoes laid just by the foot of the bed.
Shoes that the maid has left for me.
"Hmm."
Black, low platform heels. Simple, but surprisingly pretty. I walk over to reach down for them to wear them.
They don't fit me perfectly, they're a little bit bigger, but I find them still useful when I test them out on a little stride.
Not too uncomfortable.
After fastening my braids into a high ponytail, I leave the guest room. And on my way out, closing the door behind me, my body gets taken over by a gasp.
Because I'm looking down the passageway and see Billy Jacobs coming my way.
He already sees me.
In fact, I'm pretty sure his sharp eyes are planting me to the floor right now. I have frozen just from his piercing gaze alone. My eyes wide in surprise.
He stops walking and cocks his head to the side, his long straight eyebrows knitting together. He takes a long pause, confusion clear on his face.
I look down, not knowing what to say.
"You a friend of Michael?" He finally speaks, his tone straight.
I reluctantly look back at him and shake my head. "No I just met him," I answer embarrasingly quick.
He effortlessly arches an eyebrow. "I don't get it. Aren't you that delivery girl?"
"Uhm..." I awkwardly look to the side.
He looks me down cautiously. "So what are you doing here?"
I try to clear my throat. "I'm here with a friend. A friend of Michael."
His face turns blank again. "Oh."
He looks like he's about to leave but I stupidly speak, "And, uhm..." My voice is so shaky and I'm trying so hard to appear cool. "I heard about your party. That's tonight."
He narrows his eyes at me.
It's hard to maintain eye contact with him. He just always looks so serious and intimidating. I feel like I'm wasting his time.
I gulp. "Nevermind." Embarrassed, I'm the first to walk away. I retreat from the passageway. And I walk away real fast, not careful enough to prevent me slipping in my heels and dropping to the floor like a pathetic sack of potatoes. The slamming of my body making a loud impact.
