Beautiful

Alright, this is a short story I wrote and have been working on for a while now. It was inspired by a series of things. First, a song called "Que nadie vea" by a Guatemalan singer called Ricardo Arjona. Second, Angel, a character in one of my favorite movies, Rent. Third, a book (not on wattpad) called Slow Bloom by Anah Crow and Dianne Fox. And fourth, a German movie I loved called Romeos.

There is a warning that should go along with this story, though. I would like to warn anyone that has a problem with lgbt related stuff. If you fall into that category, then I'll tell you right now that you've got the wrong story. You should return to the search page and find another one that does suit your taste. 

For the people that stayed after that warning, enjoy the story, let me know what you think, and more importantly, don't judge.

Hope you enjoy,

Desyre.

                I stood in front of the mirror of my bedroom, checking for the millionth time that the door was locked before looking again at my reflection.

                Pathetic.

                A lie.

                Beautiful.

                I slowly took everything in. My long, straight, brown hair. The shirt that dipped dangerously low, showing my cleavage. The short, short skirt. My long smooth legs. The six-inch, black heels. I looked beautiful. Suddenly I heard steps on the stairs and ran across the room. I took off the wig –uncovering my short, straight, brown hair-, the shirt and the bra – the toilet paper falling to the ground-, the skirt – uncovering my tight briefs-, and the heels, and shoved it all into the space beneath the loose board on my floor. I moved my bed slowly, praying to God that it didn’t make any noise. I heard knocking on my door and my door knob rattled, someone trying to open the door.

“Lindsay?” I heard my dad ask.

“Coming!” I yelled as I put on the t-shirt and the jeans I had been wearing.

“Son, why is your door closed?” My dad asked and I heard the knob rattle again. “Open it!”

“I said I’m coming!” I yelled as I finished dressing and ran to the door.

                I turned the lock and opened the door, my dad was standing there, squinting at me.