Page 14 of Imperfection is Beauty

And even though the man who had hurt me years ago was somewhere lying in a shallow grave, those dreams were my reality for fourteen days.

I got through the day, with his hoodie, and then headed to my dorm, changed my clothes, and sadly, had to toss the jeans.

And no, I didn’t sleep in the good-smelling hoodie that night, and then every night thereafter, I definitely didn’t.

Over the course of the next two months, my eyes had searched for that man everywhere. And that wasn’t because the smell of his cologne had finally come out of the hoodie, and I wanted to beg and plead with him to spray it again.

And when he apparently made a game-winning sack with four seconds left in the game, that was when I found out just who he was.

Yes, once I learned who he was, I thought about finding him and giving him his hoodie back, but something in my gut told me not to do that.

And on the day, I finally did see him, which was yesterday, he was walking away from a girl, and that girl had said something so horribly wrong it wasn’t even funny.

Karma really is a bitch.

Thankfully, she was in my class, and wouldn’t you know that she gave me the perfect opportunity?

Today, our class was separated into groups out in the forecourt. I was leaning up against one of the cement benches when the girl I had heard talking yesterday, looked at me and asked, “So, what are you exactly?”

I lifted a brow at her in answer, “What do you mean?”

“Your accent. It’s so different from ours.” She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder.

That’s what she wanted to know? Why the hell would she ask me what I am, who the hell does that? But needing to answer her, I said, “Oh, I’m from Georgia.”

Her eyes widened, “Aren’t y’all referred to as Georgia Peaches or some shit like that?”

I nodded, “Yeah. We are. But honestly, only two parts about me could be described as a Georgia Peach.”

That was when she asked, “And… don’t leave me hanging, girl.”

Now, I normally wouldn’t have opened my mouth and said what I did next, but well, I was my father’s daughter after all.

And since he had done something so incredibly nice for me, I felt the need to return the favor.

So that was why I went with what I did next. I smiled serenely at her, fake as it was, and said, “Well, I try to be sweet. Most of the time. But really, it’s the FAFO rule.”

She looked confused, and it was probably due to all the bleach in her hair and the messed-up boob job she had. Hint: one was only supposed to be slightly bigger than the other. “And that is... what exactly?”

Thank you for opening yourself up for this moment right here, you despicable woman, “It’s a shortened version of fuck around and find out. And in case you didn’t know, your voice carries when you’re animated.”

She gasped, “Excuse me?”

Then I raised my voice and said, “Oh, and it’s really despicable to try to trap someone with a pregnancy.”

Her gasp of outrage had me smiling. I might be scared of big guys. Well, guys, I don’t know. But I was my father’s daughter. I’m an MC princess. And if there’s one thing, we don’t tolerate… that’s people trying to use others.

And that was when the man that I wanted to call mine, secretly, walked by, heard the conversation, and for the second time, he locked eyes with me, and gave me a chin lift, letting me know he got it.

Pulse.

For me.

Pulse.

… Not for him.

After our group was done, I headed to the café, got myself a skinny vanilla latte with two pumps of hazelnut, took a seat, and then felt my heart rate start to skyrocket.

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