What Makes You Beautiful

Rachel saw him even before he saw her. How could she forget that tangled mess of dirty blond hair, that lean, athletic physique and those hauntingly beautiful grey eyes that had always raised goose bumps on her arms?

She pushed through the crowd and headed in the opposite direction. Who cared if she missed the metro? She was not going anywhere near him. Not anywhere near the guy she had dated for a year in high school and got dumped by.

...

He turned around and saw a flash of ebony. Subconsciously, he tried to recall the last time he had seen such dark, beautiful locks of hair. While his mind thought of all the girls he dated, his eyes followed the curve of the lady's legs that were exposed beneath the knee length skirt she was wearing. She seemed to be jogging away, pushing through the crowds, desperate to get away.

He saw her getting lost in between the crowd, and pulled out his cell phone that was vibrating in his pocket.

"Hello?"

"Flynn!" his sister cried, relief in her voice.

"Yes, Cassidy?" he asked. He knew he had to maintain patience with his sister with her flaying nerves now. She was getting married in three weeks, and she was still not done with the wedding shopping.

"Can you please pick up my dress from Missy's?" she asked. "I am sorry brother dear to put you through this. But I'm completely booked the whole day. I am in this pastry shop, and Aunt Em is insisting I try all their wedding cakes on display! God, everything is so crazy!"

"Calm down, Dee," he laughed. "I will pick your dress up. And in case you don't want to fatten up before the big day, don't listen to Aunt Em."

"Sure thing! Love you!" she said. The line went blank, and Flynn smiled wryly. She was so ecstatic to marry her college sweetheart, Ethan. She wanted everything to be perfect. One of these days, he thought, he would take her to a Yoga class and help her practice breathing in and out.

The metro arrived and as the automatic doors opened, he stepped in.

...

7th March

1.02 p.m.

"Hey Rachel?" her next door neighbour called. She was fumbling with her keys at the door, but she turned around and regarded her neighbour, Sharon.

"Hi Sharon," she greeted. "Something you need?"

"Yes. Henry and I have a party at night. Just a house warming party. Why don't you come too? It's not going to be big. Just some neighbours and close friends."

"You mean your second house warming party?" she asked. Sharon looked embarrassed.

"Uh...you know that was ages ago. I thought we should throw a better party this time."

Ages ago meant three months ago. And when she said the party would not be big, Rachel highly doubted her. The last time she had politely refused to come since she had been knee-deep in grading papers. She was after all, a History teacher in Denver High, their local school. But this time, she was not sure what excuse she should come up with.

"Oh I know that look!" Sharon said. "You are thinking of an excuse to not come. That won't do! You live in the apartment right in front of me! Not having you come is preposterous!"

"I am sorry, Sharon. I am kind of busy."

"Busy?" she raised an eyebrow at Rachel.

"Ok. I'll drop by for an hour," Rachel said finally.

Sharon flashed her a smile, showing off her flossed, pearly white teeth, and sauntered off inside her apartment.

...

7th March

7.32 p.m.

Rachel smoothed down the creases on her indigo evening dress that fell to her knees. It was simple but she liked the dress very much. The sleeves were very short, and the dress accentuated her curves.

She pressed the doorbell and waited.

An over zealous face greeted her.

"Oh my God! You look gorgeous!" Sharon gushed. "Come in, Rachel!" She stood aside to let her in.

She was wearing a peach cocktail dress and her hair was nicely done in curls. Her make up was top notch and so was her jewellery. Not to mention that the whiff of perfume that greeted Rachel's nose was definitely branded. Her neighbours were definitely rich.

On the way, Sharon's husband, Henry waved at her. Both of them were friendly, but Rachel always wanted to steer clear from them. Somehow she did not think she belonged in their social circle.

She was a mediocre history teacher, and they were probably owners of some huge import/export company. Everything in their apartment looked foreign. Renaissance paintings adorned their walls; Mongolian sculptures decorated the hallway; Persian rugs and beautiful chinaware decorated their living room. She was momentarily feeling suffocated.

She bobbed her head up and down, and smiled when Sharon introduced her to her colleagues. She recognised Sally from fifth floor. She had met her a few times in the elevator. Other than her, everyone looked unfamili-

Her heart was in her mouth. No, this can't be. Was she still not over the shock of seeing him again after so many years? She must be hallucinating.

Across the room, leaning casually on to the wall, and dressed formally in a crisp, baby blue shirt and black pants, was Flynn, her high school boyfriend.

...