Protector ~ H.S

~ Chapter Forty-Five~

A/N: I am so, so sorry for the wait on this chapter. I'll talk more about this at the end of the chapter.

I can't believe this.

This is bullshit.

How the fuck can this be considered 'attractive'?

It took me so long to suck up enough courage to actually try on the 'costume' I was meant to wear at my new 'job'. And now I was standing in front of my mirror wearing – and what I saw was...gross.

I looked terrible. Because the oh-so-generous Jackson had given me a bikini one size smaller than I was supposed to be, I wasn't surprised to find out that it practically looked like a micro-bikini on me – which was not my look at all.

My ass was way too big for the bottom, and at the back, the fabric would always crinkle up in the middle so it looked as if I was practically wearing a thong. The front part only just covered my vagina – and yet because of how much struggle was going on at the back – the whole bottom itself hung so low at my hips that I was so afraid it was gonna fall off and I'd end up flashing everyone with my most private region.

The skinny cord along the bottom of the top that was supposed to hold the two bikini cups together could hardly handle the size of my breasts – and it was literally stretched to the max and I was so scared it was going to break. And the cups alone were forcibly brought around the sides of my chest rather than the middle – spread so far apart from each other which nearly flashed the edges of my areolas and showed way more cleavage than what I was comfortable with (which, in a situation like mine, was practically no cleavage at all). I had underboob poking out from the bottom of the top, and whenever I tried to lift the cups and push my breasts back up, the under-boob would turn into an even more obvious sideboob – and I absolutely hated it. Being forced to show off this much of my body to a bunch of strangers and sleazy fighters...I couldn't stand the thought of it. The only person who I've ever been comfortable showing this much of myself to was Harry.

And that wasn't all. Wearing a bikini one size smaller would've been no problem for Jackson's other show girls, I'm sure – because they're all so toned and slim with ideal bikini bodies. But as for me...my body was the complete opposite of theirs. My hips were huge, my thighs were thick and therefore the famed 'thigh gap' that so many girls wanted (and I was sure all the other bikini girls had) was completely non-existent for me, and my upper arms were chubby. And the fact that I was so fucking short and barely went past 5"3 didn't do shit to help any of this either. Chubby and short are two things that have never gone well together.

I fucking hated the way I looked. I was already so self-conscious about my body, and staring at myself in this stupid bikini only emphasized – in my mind – how unfit and weird-looking my body really was...and here comes Jackson demanding me to show it off to people I've never seen before in my life. I literally wanted to die.

Unable to look at myself in the mirror any longer, I immediately snatched a blanket from my bed and threw it around my body – finally concealing its unsightliness from my eyes. I then sunk down on the edge of my bed and just sat there – my eyes fixed to the ground and every part of me dreading my first day as a showgirl tomorrow afternoon.

"Angel?" Harry slid through the crack in the door holding two mugs in his hands, "I made you some coffee."

I looked up at him – still bundled up in my blanket – and softly smiled.

"Thanks, Harry," I said quietly.

"I'm sorry if it's not that good. I'm used to buying it, you know?" He gave a faint smile back.