Page 7 of Princess of Pride
2
HE’S GAY
I don’t adjust my boobs in my dress like Mom insisted. As for my nipples, they’re on display in a way that I don’t like. If the sun hadn’t been stolen by some random clouds when Mom came over, I wouldn’t be nipping and self-conscious as a result. I take that back. Any attention to my boobs makes me nervous.
In my mind, people see the size of my chest compared to the rest of me and think,poor girl. If only her boobs were smaller or her hips were wider.
Pippa always told me, “Men prefer an hourglass to a spoon. Being top-heavy will work against you.”
So I learned to conceal them as best as I could.
Mom knows this, which is why she took my sweater, but I refuse to push up my boobs like she wants. Instead, I leave them smooshed in the dress and work my long hair over my beaded nipples. There. If I keep my arms at my sides, my boobs will stay stuffed down, appearing smaller than they are.
Ready, I turn toward Lachlan and frown. He’s gone. A second ago, he was there, right there by the champagne fountain. He was there before Mom and I stood.
I scan the spacious backyard. About fifty or more women and men, mostly men, mingle in groups. I don’t see a tall man in a steel blue suit anywhere though.
Did he go to the pool house to use the bathrooms? Both are at the back of the estate. This area is on the side of the house, near the orangery.
He could have gone there, I suppose, but men don’t often feel the need to stroll through a greenhouse that grows oranges. It’s more of a lady’s thing, and my favorite place to read.
With my arms at my sides, I stroll toward the pool house around the corner. The crowd thins the closer I get. People I recognize from previous parties smile at me, but no one waves me over to talk to my relief.
I stop outside the two bathrooms meant for guests and swimmers. Inside, the pool house has a large living space, full kitchen, and two-bedroom suites that accommodate guests who want privacy from the main house.
After waiting several minutes and watching women come and go along with one man, I decide I was wrong. A surge of panic shoots through me. What if he left?
Mom will scold me for not trying hard enough, and Dad will blame me for his leaving.
Maybe I should call Adelaide and take her up on her offer to let me move in. To what end, though? I can’t live off her forever. And who’s to say Dad won’t try to ruin her life too for harboring his traitorous daughter. I can’t do that to her.
Lachlan is my only hope to break free from my dad and to obtain my dream.
Buzzing sounds near my ear and a huge bee flies close to my face. I squeal and swat at it as I run toward the pool. I’ve had a fear of bees ever since I was stung by a nest when I was five. My entire face swelled.
Swat, swat.
Squeal, squeal.
Rip.
Oh no!
I freeze long enough to notice two things. The bee is gone, and the side zipper to my dress ripped from my armpit to my hip. That’s what I get for trying to make my boobs smaller in a tightly fitted dress.
In a panic, I hold the material together as much as I can and race for the pool house, praying it isn’t locked.
I don’t even glance around to see if I’ve caused a scene, I just run. The door handle turns, and I enter in a flurry. My heels patter on the tiled floor on my way to the bathroom that’s behind the kitchen.
Stopping in front of the mirror above the sink, I assess the damage. It’s bad. Side boob galore. Safety pins wouldn’t stand a chance.
A tall figure appears in the doorway.
I scream and jump. My hip bumps into the stone counter.Ow. Dammit. I rub the tender spot where a bruise will no doubt form.
Lachlan stands at the threshold, watching me with those aqua eyes, the scents of oak and musk stirring the air. I’ve never stood this close to him. I would take the opportunity to check out his perfectly chiseled features, but my gaze drifts south to his bare chest. Firm pecs meet six pack abs that are romance book cover worthy. His biceps bulge with sculpted strength. He’s more muscular than he appears in clothes. But what steals my attention is the large Celtic tattoo over his pec. Another tattoo with writing in a foreign language covers his ribs on that same side and disappears in back.
With his clean-cut, polished image, I never would have expected tattoos. I lick my lips as I watch his sculpted chest move with his breathing.
