Fifteen : Beneath The Makeup
I can see my reflection in his eyes.
Pretty wide eyes lined with thick long sooty lashes, smooth unblemished skin, flushed soft cheeks, and full pouty lips stared back at me.
Slightly exotic, fairly cute and youthful looking.
The real me.
The me that resembles an 18 year old high school student who can’t purchase alcohol without getting in trouble for underage drinking.
The me who has somehow forgotten what I really look like after concealing my face for so long.
At his unwavering ogling, my breath is stuck in my throat while my palms sweaty are from nervousness and embarrassment.
I felt highly uncomfortable being uncovered and exposed to him in such a way. Everything about me was being bared for him to pick at. It made me feel unsettled, my stomach protesting with a wave of nausea.
Eros looked utterly stunned, losing his cool lazy facial composure for a split second before managing to recover it. The slight quirk at the corner of his lips lifted a little higher in a laid back way. And his eyes brightened with a hint of approval or appeasement.
I couldn’t tell.
The minutes slowly drawled by in extreme awkwardness and I could only shuffle from one foot to the other.
Eros continued to stare almost unblinkingly at my face to the point where I could feel my face heat up in response.
My cheek twitched, “Are you done staring?”
He cleared his throat a second time before diverting his gaze onto my chest. I unconsciously crossed my arms over my chest and narrowed my eyes at him.
“I’ll go get you some dry clothes,” he said, swiftly disappearing into the walk in closet.
Almost 2 minutes later, Eros came back. He handed me a white t-shirt that obviously belonged to him, purposefully brushing his fingers against my own.
And with his back leaning against the wooden frame, he resumed his previous position against the door.
“I need to change,” I state, my tone almost deadpan.
My eyes narrowed down on his lazy posture.
He obviously knew that I was insinuating for him to leave. But here he was, playing dumb with me.
“Go ahead,” he said with an amused quirk of his lips and a wave of his hands for me to continue.
His eyes glinted in a rather teasing yet dangerous way.
And I found that he seemed more approachable than before. That stony cold Alpha facade that he keeps up in front of everyone was replaced by a more friendly one.
He was, surprisingly, more pleasant to be around than I thought.
I cleared my throat as if to clear the awkwardly heated atmosphere that his gaze seemed to have caused.
“I’m not going to change unless you leave,” I finally state, glaring at him with a purse of my lips.
My mind can’t wrap around the idea of standing naked in front of him, for him to inspect me from the inside out.
“You will forget your modest human tendencies soon, Emira,” he replied with a click of his tongue and turned away from me.
At the sound of the door closing, I finally let go of the breath that I was holding and deflated like a balloon.
I really wouldn’t have known what to do if he kept insisting on standing there instead of backing off.
I shiver involuntarily before quickly unzipping the floral dress and kicking it off.
The undergarments underneath were also soaking wet, cold and dripping water down my skin. I clenched my jaw before deciding to forgo the bra and undies. Which, at the time, I didn’t realize was a really bad idea.
With my body facing the mirror, I stared at my beat up reflection.
It didn’t look half as bad as I thought it would.
Some bloody scrapes and cuts were somewhat closing already. The bruises and raw skin made it look a little more painful than it felt. Which was a good thing.
Some were far worse than others but nothing that wouldn’t heal over with time.
I never mentioned this before but, apparently, nothing has been able to mar my skin. Even if I cut my stomach open, my wound would heal over to reveal unblemished skin in the span of a couple of days. It was as if I never received an injury of that extent.
I suppose that’s one of the nicer perks to having this non-ageing ability. My skin can’t scar and seemed to be far more resilient than that of the average human. I just hope that I am as resilient and quick healing on the inside as I am on the outside or that would be a really bad combination. I’ve never tested the theory and I don’t really want to.
My hands wrung out the water in my hair before I pulled his t-shirt on. As the cotton brushed against my cheeks, there was an oddly relaxing scent that fluttered against my nose.
Eros’ scent seemed to have transferred onto the fabric.
The smell of rain in a green forest, electric lightning, and the scent of musk, that clearly defined some sort of masculinity belonging to him, emitted from the shirt.
It smelled a lot nicer than what I thought it would smell.
I don’t know why but I felt as if he had worn this before handing it to me. That or he rubbed it all over himself. I almost laughed out loud at the strange idea of that and tossed that ludicrous idea out.
The t-shirt reached a little further past mid thigh and covered most essentials from view.
But since I’m not wearing a bra, my nipples were showing through the shirt. You can’t really see-see it. But it still bothered me.
The hint of peach-pinkish color contrasted against the white and, if I stood straight, you can definitely see the points.
I grunted in disappointment.
If I was at home by myself then this wouldn’t be a problem. But, unfortunately, I’m stuck in the same room with Eros. And I feel uncomfortable exposing myself in such a way.
It’s just nipples.
People see nipples all the time. You see them when women breast feed their children, in commercials now-a-days, and even singers with their nipple embellishments.
Probably nothing that he hasn’t seen before.
I breathed out another sigh after encouraging myself several times that this is completely normal.
Come on, Emi.
You’re 30 years old, act like it!
Checking myself in the mirror once again, I slowly opened the door and peeked my head out to look into the room.
The lighting had been moderately dimmed down.
Looking towards the bed, I felt my heart skip at beat when my eyes caught his.
He was already laying in the big bed, head tipped downwards to read some type of documentation in his hands. His shirt is still missing but at least the black sheets covered a part of his abdomen from view.
I slowly stepped out of the backroom and closed the door softly in hopes of keeping my existence down to the minimum.
My fingers grabbed the white fabric at the front and lifted it upwards off of my chest so that it doesn’t catch the form of my boobs.
Cautiously raising my eyes, I noted that his head was still bent.
And I found myself hunching over like the hunchback of Notre Dame to make sure my nipples didn’t show.
I can just imagine how ridiculous I must look right now.