Learning to be Beautiful

Learning to be Beautiful ~4~

If I had been in a cheesy romance novel, I would have gotten caught in the beautiful emerald green and my anger would have dissolved. For a moment, I was captivated by the intense grassy color, but my anger did not dissolve. Instead, the beauty of his eyes only made my fury that much more intense. It made me mad that a man was more beautiful than I was.

“Move,” I demanded again, prepared to shove him out of my way if I needed to.

He didn’t say a word, but inclined his head slightly and moved aside, his hands gesturing towards the outside. “Of course, your majesty,” he mocked in that infuriatingly beautiful British accent. Even his voice was more beautiful than mine! I was halfway out of the hall of small changing rooms when he added something on, “Just know that I will never try to apologize to you again.”

I hesitated for a moment; did I want him to apologize? I turned back to look at him, one eyebrow arched. “Apologize?”

Linc moved out of the dressing room, the red, velvet curtains brushing his dark brown hair back momentarily before it settled perfectly back into place. “Obviously,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Why on earth would I have followed you in here otherwise?”

I had no answer for him; I didn’t even know that he had followed me in here.

“You followed me?” I snorted, “What the heck are you? A stalker?” Definitely not one of my best come-backs, but under the circumstances, I thought it was pretty good.

“Would you like an apology or not, Ms. Palmin?” He sighed, words rolling smoothly off his tongue and sounding sweeter than honey. I wondered how many times he had practiced it on other people to make it sound so sickeningly perfect.

“That really depends; will it be sincere?”

“The sincerest.” He assured, dipping his head again.

Liar, ran through my head.

“I’m not completely devoid of gentlemanly tendencies, you know,” Linc commented casually; leaning back against a wall, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s not just my accent you American women find charming.”

I frowned at his arrogance, “Who would ever find you charming?” I sneered; I may not have known him any longer than an hour but he already seemed to found all the wrong buttons to push on me. He irritated me to an extent which I couldn’t believe.

“Shall I list them alphabetically or in order of attractiveness?” He smirked, “If it is to be the latter, then you are definitely at the top of the list.” Linc made a great show of looking me up and down, and I would have been flattered if I hadn’t known it was an outright lie.

“Stop lying through your teeth and just get the dang apology over with already.” I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger and closing my eyes. I was worn out from arguing with him and my crying bout and I still had to report back to Pierre for the real outfit 27 photo-shoot.

When I reopened my eyes, Linc was surprisingly close. He was standing about a foot away from me, and  yet, I could still feel the heat radiating off of him and could smell his scent. “Ms. Palmin,” he began, softly at first, but as he continued his voice rose in volume, “you have my very deepest and most sincere apologies. Could you ever find it in your being to forgive me?” Okay, so maybe I could understand why others could find him charming. “If your heart is as beautiful as your exterior, the forgiveness that I seek should not be hard to find.” And his ‘charming’ status has been replaced by ‘liar’ again.