Learning to be Beautiful

Learning to be Beautiful ~4~

If you have ever felt worthless, hated, and ugly then you know what I was going through while I hid in the curtained off dressing rooms, tears streaming down my face. My pitiful attempts to quiet my sobs only made them come out like a strangled hiccup. I may not have had many in my life, but this certainly was not an attractive moment for me.

When I heard shoes clacking against the pure, white tile, I panicked. I scurried over to a small, cream colored bench that hung on the side of the thick, dressing room wall. I set myself on it as silently as I could, and pulled my knees up to my chest so that whoever walked by wouldn’t be able to see my legs. In order to silence myself, I regulated my breathing; taking air in deeply and letting it out very slowly.

The footsteps moved past, and I let out a sigh of relief; but I was relieved too soon. The breath came out as a ragged hiccup, and the clacking sound of the shoes on tile stopped ten feet away. My heart-rate increased at the thought of being discovered in this embarrassing situation, so I curled into an even tighter ball.

Big mistake.

The bench creaked underneath me, and if my hiccup hadn’t alerted whoever was in the room to where I was, then the loud squeak definitely had.

Slowly, but surely, the footsteps made their way back towards my booth. They seemed to stop every three steps, so I assumed that the person was checking each and every stall.

I saw no other option than to be discovered, and the very thought made my stomach twist in outrage. I may have run away, fighting tears, but my pride wouldn’t let me give in to be found looking like a small child whose toy had been taken away by a bully. Summoning the last of my dignity, and holding onto whatever scraps of self-esteem I had left, I sat straight up and raked my fingers through my hair quickly, wiped my face of my tears, and did my best to make myself look at least a bit more presentable.

The feet stopped in front of my room. I could see the person’s shoes peeping out from below the curtains. Men’s shoes. He seemed to be hesitating, like he knew I was in here and was not very keen about finding me. I heard him take a deep breath, and a hand reached into the curtains and pushed them back.

Linc stepped into the small room as soon as he saw me, his face as blank as a sheet of paper. That made me angry; how dare he not care about what he had done? How dare he humiliate me like that and then waltz into here showing absolutely no sign of emotion? I wanted to stand up and push him out of my way and make a dramatic, almost theatrical exit.

I stood to do just that—and managed to trip over myself and slam right into him. He grunted, but didn’t fall down. Long, strong fingers wrapped themselves around my arms and set me upright. My face burned from the intensity of the blush that was spreading itself across my face, and I quickly realized that whatever dignity and pride I had left had just been scattered in the wind.

Grimacing, I pulled myself out of his grasp and tried to move past him, only to notice that his large frame was completely blocking the exit.

“Move,” I growled, glaring up into surprisingly intense green eyes.