Bloodline (The Golden Boy )

Chapter: 3

                                   •Jessica:

  The feeling that you're not good enough for the world is a shooter that throws bullets at every good thing you have to kill it.

Breath Jess, I muttered to myself checking my reflection in the mirror. "Are those dark circles under my eyes?" I leaned in closer, squinting. "I should've used more concealer."  My fingers grazed the skin beneath my eyes as if willing the imperfections to disappear.

I glanced at the clock. Five minutes. I couldn't afford to mess this up.

"This is too important," I whispered, eyes scanning every inch of my face. I tugged at a loose strand of hair and smoothed down my dress for the tenth time. "Just don't ruin it."

A knock at the door snapped me out of my trance.

"Jess?" Lauren's voice floated through the door, soft but concerned.

"Yeah, one second," I called back, hastily fixing my hair again, even though I'd already straightened it to perfection. Still, it felt... off. My hands moved on autopilot, smoothing my dress again before I forced myself to open the door.

Lauren stood there, arms crossed, her brows furrowed in concern. "You've been in there for thirty minutes," she said gently, her eyes searching mine.

"Really?" I blinked, shocked. Thirty minutes? I hadn't realized. I'd been too wrapped up in trying to look flawless, too consumed by the nagging voice telling me I wasn't good enough.

She tilted her head, eyes softening. "Are you okay?"

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "I don't know..." I paused, I paused, my eyes darting away from her. "It's just... everyone out there looks perfect, and I'm..."

"You look perfect too, Jess." Lauren's hand found my shoulder, squeezing gently. "You always do this. Don't go into your head. You're stunning, and tonight is going to be amazing."

I nodded, even though doubt gnawed at me. Her words felt comforting, but deep down, I wasn't convinced. I forced a smile and swallowed the anxiety bubbling up in my chest. "Thanks, Lauren."

As she turned to head back down the hallway, I glanced at myself one last time in the mirror. My hands felt clammy as I pressed them to my sides. The dream I'd held for so long—to be a model like my mom—suddenly felt too far out of reach.

My mom's voice echoed in my mind, "You've always had the spark, Jess. Fashion lives in you, just like it lived in me."

I wished I could believe her. She'd given up her modeling career to raise me and Erin, always telling me how I had inherited her passion for fashion. But standing there, under the harsh light of the bathroom mirror, all I could see were flaws.

I had wanted this for as long as I could remember. I used to sneak into my mom's closet, draping myself in her dresses and pretending I was on the runway. Fashion had always been my escape—my dream. But now that I was standing on the edge of making it real, I wasn't sure if I could live up to it.

What if I wasn't good enough? What if everyone could see through the facade?

Shaking my head, I pushed the thoughts aside, plastering on a smile that felt fragile. "This is my chance," I whispered to myself, stepping out into the hallway. "Don't mess it up."

I stepped into the waiting room, my heels clicking softly on the polished floor as I scanned the row of seats. Every girl sitting there seemed to be staring at me, though I couldn't be sure if it was real or just my nerves playing tricks on me.