Finding Beautiful

by Amanda Kaitlyn

  A woman he couldn’t resist… A man that terrified her…

  Aria Morgan spent four long, painful months building herself up after having had her heart broken. The last thing she wants is to meet a man that makes her weak in the knees at the sight of him. A man that calls her beautiful as if it’s her name. A man that entices her to desire more than she ever has before.

  The only thing she’d ever loved was ballet. The feeling she got when she stepped onto a stage just waiting for her to blow each and every spectator away with her passion for dance. But when she met Gavin, it seemed she wanted something more. Something she gave up on about four months ago.

  It terrified her and excited her, but when he kissed her with both the gentleness she needed and the passion she craved, all her fears and doubts just melted away. She craved him. She needed his touch more than the air in her lungs, and the idea of losing the feel of it could break her heart in two.

  But how could she trust again after being broken so painfully? Was it possible?

  She had no idea. But Aria had to try.

  “I’m going to give you the world. This is only the beginning, Beautiful”

  When an irreversible loss rocks her world and shatters it to pieces, it forces her to push everyone she loves away. Even the man that’s become vital to her in every way.

  Can Gavin, a man so filled with love for the beautifully imperfect dancer hold on to her when their shared pain becomes too much to bear?

  Finding Beautiful

  Amanda Kaitlyn

  Booktrope Editions

  Seattle WA 2016

  Copyright 2016 Amanda Kaitlyn Rano

  This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.

  Attribution — You must attribute the work in the manner specified by the author or licensor (but not in any way that suggests that they endorse you or your use of the work).

  Noncommercial — You may not use this work for commercial purposes.

  No Derivative Works — You may not alter, transform, or build upon this work.

  Inquiries about additional permissions should be directed to: info@booktrope.com

  Cover Design by Ashley Byland

  Edited by Leticia Sidon

  Previously self-published as Finding Beautiful, 2012

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

  Print ISBN 978-1-5137-0724-2

  EPUB ISBN 978-1-5137-0825-6

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2016902361

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Preview

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty One

  Twenty Two

  Twenty Three

  Twenty Four

  Twenty Five

  Twenty Six

  Twenty Seven

  Twenty Eight

  Twenty Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty One

  Thirty Two

  Thirty Three

  Thirty Four

  Thirty Five

  Thirty Six

  Thirty Seven

  Thirty Eight

  Epilogue

  Playlist

  A Note from the Author

  More Great Reads from Booktrope

  Dedication

  To every person that encouraged, nurtured and

  pushed me to pursue this dream of mine.

  I am immensely grateful.

  Prologue

  “ARIA, LOOK,” FARAH WHISPERS from our adjoined desks, as we sit toward the back of Mr. Nelson’s history class. Her hazel eyes zero in on someone across the room, her slim eyebrows raised as she cocks her head to the side in that way that tells me she’s looking at a guy. And she likes what she sees.

  “What?” I whisper, peering down at my notebook filled with the lecture notes I’m supposed to memorize by next class. My overly excited best friend doesn’t stop nudging me, even as I try in vain to ignore my curiosity at whom she’s staring at. The last thing I’m interested in is some jock that Farah has her sights set on, but hell, I am curious. Aggravated, I turn to where she tilts her head and follow the movement only to gasp audibly, seeing a pair of chocolate brown eyes staring at me from three desks over. I was right. He is what you’d call a jock. A Lakers cap is drawn low on his head and there are three girls surrounding him, wanting his attention while he has his sights set on me. He isn’t staring, not in that way boys look at you with only one thing in mind. He’s just looking at me. With curiosity. With wonder. I know who he is, practically everyone at Beaumont High does. Bryce Williams, a senior. He’s the quarterback on our football team and definitely doesn’t want for beauty. Chocolate-brown eyes, tousled black hair, and a muscular frame—he’s any girl’s dream. And he’s looking at me? No way. My cheeks flame red at the thought and I hastily turn my head to see if there’s someone behind me, but there’s no one. Oh goodness, it’s me. Why the hell would he be looking at me?

  “He’s looking at you!” my best friend gushes as I turn to see her biting her thumb in excitement.

  When I look back at the boy, his eyebrows are raised and he has a wide smile playing on his full lips. I know I should look away. My sister warned me away from boys like him, especially after hearing what people say about him. They say he’s dangerous; that his last girlfriend, Kristy Jenkins, fled to private school after only two months of seeing him. Looking across from him now, I don’t know if I believe those rumors.

  One

  I CLASP THE LOCKET in the palm of my hand and take a deep cleansing breath. The dancers, young women whom I’ve grown attached to over these past three weeks of endless training, practicing, and obsessing in readying ourselves for this very day, glide elegantly over the wooden floors, masses of grace and beauty. I watch and hope that I’ll be just as confident when I take the floor. I approach my coach, mentor, and dance partner of six years, Eli Jones, and try to cover up my trembling hands with the wrap I’m holding. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. Dancing is like walking to me. I’ve done it ever since I was old enough to put one foot in front of the other. It’s been an outlet for me through the lonely nights of middle school and the stressful exam-filled days of high school, and especially through my four years at Julliard. It’s been my relief from everyday life. But this will be the first time since my stay at the hospital four months ago that I’ll dance in front of an audience. Oh, shit. What if I fall on my face? With my hands shaking terribly, that’s a possibility.

  My errant thoughts are interrupted by a hand on my shoulder, squeezing me from behind.

  “You’re going to do fine, Aria,” Eli whispers in my ear with another squeeze to my shoulders. I smile because I’m afraid that if I speak, I won’t make it to my dance before I talk my way out of it.

  I have to do this. For me. For everything I’ve endured and every person that’s lifted me up the numerous times I’ve fallen.

  The slow instrumental of a Celine Dion melody begins, and I slip the gold-bowed ballet flats on my feet and pull my wa
vy black hair into a bun in preparation.

  I pull in a deep breath as I glide onto the floor. It feels as if every moment leading up to this is enhancing my already frazzled nerves. My body is strung tight from my toes to the tips of my fingers. I haven’t done this in so long, I’m terrified that I’ll mess up. What do they say about riding a bike? Learning to drive? If you learned once, you’ll positively remember how to do it no matter how much time has passed. I really hope that’s true.

  I stretch my fingers to the ceiling, and as I do this, my eyes flick over to see my always supportive dance coach looking at me. When he nods his head, I know I can do this. I’ve got this. Taking another deep, deep breath, I begin to glide, making sure to stay in sync with the music playing overhead. Near, far, wherever you are, I believe that the heart does go on. Once more you open the door and you’re here in my heart and my heart will go on and on. My eyes close to the words filled with such emotion, such depth. I move to express everything inside me, and soon I don’t even have to think about the rhythm or the steps or the people from my academy’s dance program watching my every move. I’m one with my body, the angelic music, and the heartbeat inside my chest. My right leg lifts as if in a trance while my other lifts in front of me in a perfect arch. I hold that position through a few strains of the violin and then glide back into position for my finish. When the violin strains end, I go for my big ending and land it with easy grace as the audience applauds for me. A larger-than-life smile spreads my lips, lifts my cheeks, and makes my eyes burn with the need to keep them open as I take in the number of people avidly applauding and celebrating.

  This is my world and my love. All I need, I realize. With the grief and the sadness of the last four months, I’m at peace when I’m dancing. The pain, the heartbreak, and the fear I felt when I woke up in the hospital weeks ago just disappears.

  I’m caught in a pair of skinny, but muscular, arms as soon as I’m within reach and I giggle as Eli lifts me off my feet and laughs in my ear. He squeezes me gently as he hangs on a little longer to our hug.

  “You, my mistress, are back.”

  I meet his gaze and nod, knowing I truly am back. Eli lets me go as I see my sister Kel standing by the locker rooms. Hastily running to reach her, she hugs me so tightly. Her golden blonde hair engulfs me and I hug her back as tears sting my eyes.

  “You were amazing, Aria. I’m so proud of you, honey.” She grins against my head and I sniff into her Rolling Stones tee. I blink a few times so she doesn’t think I’m sad today, because I’m not.

  “Thanks for coming, Kel,” I murmur, hooking one arm through hers to leave with everyone else in the building. We turn that way as she speaks only for my ears.

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for anything in this world. I’m just sorry Mama wouldn’t come.”

  I close my eyes and remind myself to be strong. My mom hasn’t talked to me ever since my older brother and her beloved son, died. I still remember the moment he flat lined. I was at Jeremy’s bedside with my arm in a sling as he fought for every breath. A drunk driver ran into his side of the cab and he suffered internal bleeding along with broken ribs and massive head injuries. We had no idea whether he’d wake up, and even if he did, would he remember us? Would he be our Jeremy? Or would he be a vegetable for the rest of his life? In the end, though, his heart wasn’t strong enough and he passed exactly one hour and twenty-two minutes after he was brought into the emergency room. It crushed me. Hell, it broke me along with Kel, and my mom especially, who placed all the blame on me. I think the pain got to be too much for her and the only way she could cope was to be angry. At the world. At me. But God, did it hurt.

  I don’t realize that tears are falling until they sting my cheeks and chin. Kel wipes them away, her amber eyes filled with worry. I miss him so much.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper, struggling to rein in my emotions. Kel wraps her arm around me and leads me to her car, knowing that I have to move, to do something other than relive those terrible moments. We walk across the parking lot and I spot a canary yellow sports car with a black pinstripe detailed on each side. I can tell from the make that it is a fairly new Jaguar. I don’t know all that much about cars, but this has to be the sexiest car I’ve ever laid eyes on. Every inch is sleek, painted in the lightest shade of yellow, and the designs up one side with thin lines of navy blue and black are a stark contrast to the bright yellow. The hood is up and I catch the sight of a lean pair of hips pressed against one tire while working under the hood.

  I lose my breath when a pair of piercing blue-gray eyes lock on mine and I swear my heart stops beating. It feels as if the air around me is charged with something as I look ahead of me. My breath falters as I take in the man standing no more than twenty feet away. With brown tousled hair that makes me want to run my fingers through it and a look in his eyes that makes me stop where I stand, I’m mesmerized. His eyes captivate mine, two clouds of brilliant blue and gray. His lean cheekbones and nose complement his face perfectly. His mouth is sculpted and tilted into a half-smile. Somehow, it makes my blood heat in anticipation. Gradually, my eyes sweep down his body. The man is wearing a white dress shirt that hugs his chest in the best ways and is unbuttoned at the top, along with black Wrangler jeans and black dress shoes to match. When my eyes return to his, he cocks his head to one side as if to ask are you checking me out? And I can’t help the butterflies that take flight in my stomach. He’s… beautiful. My brain seems to catch up with whatever my eyes are taking in and I immediately ask myself, what the hell am I doing? It’s not as if I’ve never seen a good-looking man before. It just feels like my eyes are somehow drawn to him. I watch as he pulls a wrench out from under the hood of his car, straightens up, and closes the hood with a loud thud. As he turns, the way he carries himself is like sex on legs. It dawns on me that he doesn’t seem cocky or full of himself like most guys could be with his looks, but he does have a sense of self-awareness and power in the way he moves.

  I draw my eyes back to his and he steps forward. The smile he gives me makes me weak in the knees. God, what is happening to me? Aria, calm down. He’s just a man.

  “Like the view?” he asks, his voice gravelly with a southern charm that I hadn’t expected. The sound seeps through me, through the space between us, through my overheated skin.

  I open my mouth to speak, but I end up just taking in a breath and attempting to gather my thoughts. He watches me quietly, his eyes trained only on my face. I try to reason with myself to get in the car and drive away from him, but I can’t truly think of anything that would cause me to run.

  Okay, he is just a man, who is sinfully beautiful and has eyes that draw you in like a moth to a flame…

  “Oh… um, yes. Is this yours?”

  He nods and takes a step forward, startling me a tad when he takes my hand gently in his. The simple touch is like a spark between our bodies, sending tingles over my skin.

  “She is,” he says, that half-smile lighting up the dips and shallows of his face. I can see at least one day’s worth of brown stubble across his jaw, my fingers itch to lift and touch him, feel the roughness I know I’ll find along his jaw. I unknowingly bite my lip as he admires me with those eyes of his. God, his eyes are so deep, so full of mischief.

  “She?” I cock my head to the side in confusion.

  “Yes, that surprises you?” he teases me, his eyes narrowing a bit.

  My mouth stretches into a shy smile, and I feel my heart flutter as he gazes down at me. “Let me guess, you named her, too?”

  “I did. Jasmine, after the girl that broke my heart years ago. I’m hoping history won’t repeat itself. I can’t imagine she’ll run off with a French exchange student. You think?”

  It makes me giggle, his having a name for his car, but it also saddens me knowing he’s felt heartbreak. I can definitely relate. Heartbreak is something I know intimately, but doesn’t everyone get their heart broken at one point?

  “I hope not.” I don’t try to take my
hand from his. The skin contact is just too intense for me to want to. Beside me, Kel tugs on my arm and smiles knowingly as she looks at our joined hands. Oh goodness, what does she have in mind?

  Leaning closer to me, she whispers in my ear, “Shall I invite him tonight?”

  I narrow my eyes at her and hastily shake my head, though I do want to see him again. My sister insisted on having a party to celebrate my graduation and its tonight.

  Kel steps in front of me, probably to block me from his view when she gets a look at him. I watch her lean in to whisper in his ear and I vaguely wonder what he must smell like.

  “Of course I’ll be there. Thank you.” I meet his eyes intentionally, wondering what he must be thinking of her taking a quick liking to him. His eyes sparkle with what I can only guess is mischief, and they don’t leave mine while he talks with my sister.

  My heart is on overdrive for the first time in my life and it’s due to this man. I have to remind myself to focus on something other than his beauty or the speed of my heartbeat in my chest. He is just a man. I keep telling myself that.

  “You don’t have to come, Kel is just being nice,” I half-whisper as he moves a step closer to me. I swear the heat in his gaze could burn me in two.

  Shaking his head slightly, he gives me a smile that just about melts my heart. I wonder, could he possibly want to see me again? Do I want that?

  “I’d really like to see you again. You’re beautiful and mysterious and you intrigue me.” Beautiful and mysterious? God, what am I doing… ?

  Still, I find myself nodding my head and I turn to my KIA before I say something else. My thoughts are rattled and all I can think about is how soft his lips look and how those eyes captivate mine.

  Suddenly, he catches my hand again and immediately my heart speeds up as the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. His touch resonates through me and when I see the sincerity in his eyes, I gasp audibly.

  “Can I at least have your name?”

  This man’s drawl knocks my heart into overdrive again, his eyes searching mine for long seconds. I wonder what he’s thinking as he trains his eyes intently on my face. A strand of my hair flies in front of my face and he deftly lifts it away and tucks it behind my ear. When his fingers dip to my cheek where a blush has spread across my skin, fireworks spark underneath the touch.