Warmth fills my chest and I stand there stunned.
Sometimes we momentarily forget our own worth until someone reminds us. It’s so easy to get lost in an ever-churning pit of self-deprecation and bad thoughts. But moments like these pull you back to the surface and ground you.
A conversation on society’s beauty standards ensues. We talk about the ways to unlearn the concepts that harm us, while learning to unconditionally love the skin we’re in.
When we wrap up, I follow the girls back on Instagram and they leave with friendly waves and a bounce to their steps. I’m thankful I came out tonight and stepped out of my comfort zone, if only for this one sweet interaction. Socializing with them was a good reminder that not everyone is malicious and out to get me for their own benefit.
The feeling of cloud nine evaporates when I glance over at Kennedy and Caleb, who’re having the time of their lives flirting openly in a crowded bar.
Suddenly, all I can think about is Liam.
A score of emotions rushes through my system.
Elation that I came out. Disappointment that Liam flaked on me.
Needing a moment away from the music and chatter, I thread through the crowd towards the bathrooms tucked in the back corridor.
Lady luck must hate me.
Before I even make it three steps, a tall dude manages to sock my cheekbone with his flailing elbow as he does the chicken dance to impress the girl next to him.
There’s a sickening sound as skin slaps skin and we both gasp out loud.
Him, out of fear. Me, out of shock, because I’ve literally been skyrocketed to a whole new dimension.
Excruciating pain explodes over my nerve endings and I sway.
The contents of my Shirley Temple splash all over the ground in a sticky mess, causing a few people to shriek.
“I’m so s-sorry,” I choke out to no one in particular.
A loud commotion occurs as people shuffle away. My cheeks heat up with scorching humiliation.
The taunting voice in my head whispers condescendingly,See, Mabel? This is why you don’t go out. Something embarrassing always happens to you. Shouldhave stayed at home with Cheeto watching movies.
The guy who smacked me is profusely apologizing, but I’m too busy holding my cheek, wallowing in self-pity, to reply back.
Out of the blue, a deep voice booms, “Move out of the way!”
Jolting, I glance up…and instantly freeze.
There’s only one way to describe the man entering my line of sight.
Tall, handsome, and just the perfect amount of rugged.
He looks like a real-life warrior.
His hair is brown with tinges of auburn, cropped short at the side, with the longer strands at the top a bit dishevelled. Like he combed his fingers through it and now it’s just doing its own thing.
And his body.
Lord have mercy.
He’s strong and thick, and his husky frame is poured in the customary black polo and dark denim of MacGregor’s bouncers. I swear my mouth waters at the sight of those bulging muscles and the way they flex as he pushes people aside to get to me.
His features are twisted in a scowl, and I see his jaw clench beneath his full beard as he stands before me, inspecting my frame from head to toe.
Those blue eyes of his, turbulent like the ocean, are ablaze.
