Read Online Because You Need Me (Falling for You, Book Two) by Ava Claire - Free Book Online
Authors: Ava Claire
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her. If I wanted, I could ignore her altogether. Rubbing my happiness with Xander in her face was something she'd do. Besides, she'd see it with her own eyes at the reception.
I twirled one of the curly ringlets that the stylist had weaved in and out of my side braid and batted my false eyelashes at her. “Don't you just love weddings?”
“Ugh,” she snarled. She bit off a cuss word or two as she barreled through her friends and out the door. It clicked shut and I turned back to my reflection. To be honest, I looked nothing like me. Every blemish was hidden, every imperfection contoured out of existence. My bone straight hair that usually hung like limp pasta had volume and lift. My mermaid braid even had texture, curls dipping and cradling the plait like a work of art. The last minute alterations ensured that the strapless gown hung on me just right and the corset beneath made my tiny boobs look luscious. Even though I felt like I was in a costume, 'me' radiated from within. I knew that underneath all the glitz and glamour, I was just as sexy. Xander desired me when I showed my freckles, without the push up factor, without the pound of makeup. And more than that, his love reminded me that at the end of the day, boring old Penny Robertson was more than enough.
The door swung open and I gripped the edge of the vanity, sure Lara had returned for a rematch. When I tossed my eyes in her direction, my heart stalled. It wasn't Lara. It was my sister...and she was beautiful.
Of course she was beautiful, she could make an ugly Christmas sweater and crimped hair look beautiful. I needed a thesaurus to put it in words. Breathtaking. Glorious. Freaking amazing. Her pale blonde hair was pulled to the crown of her head, a sea of intricate braids and curls pinned with jewels and tiny pearls. Instead of the usual makeup styling, enhancing her already devastating good looks, she went minimalist, her cheeks and eyes glowing with a slight shimmer. Her bright eyes glittered, framed with a swipe of mascara. Her lips shimmered with a rosy pink gloss. And the dress...I wasn't used to spending much more than $50 on a dress, but her vintage gown was worth every penny. The lace clung to her torso and hips and flared out at the knee. As everyone clamored over to her to ooo and ahh, she flashed one of her shoes, blood red pumps that matched the ruby red studs that glittered in her ears—and the rose bouquet that my mother was clutching like a child.
I felt real tears building as I watched Victoria beam and do a conservative happy dance with her friends. When she looked in my direction, I expected her to spare a smile and go back to celebrating with the people that mattered. But she pushed past her fans and barreled toward me. Before I could gasp or turn around to see if one of her friends was behind me, she wrapped her arms around me and squeezed so tight that I thought she'd break something. Usually, I'd complain or stand there awkwardly, sure it was all an act; like she was up for Sister of the Year and was damned if she wasn't snagging the trophy. This time, I felt something. It felt a lot like love.
She let me go hesitantly and looked down at me, a full head above me with her stilettos. “You look gorgeous Pen!”
As if her hug wasn't enough, hearing her call me the nickname she used when we were kids, before it became clear that I was the oddball and she was the pretty one, back when we were thick as thieves...it was enough to make the tears free fall.
“M-me?” I blubbered. “You're the gorgeous one!”
“Tissue!” Victoria called out and in a blink of an eye a tissue appeared. She gently cradled my chin, dabbing at my cheeks. “You're going to mess up your makeup.”
And there was the Victoria I knew, the spitting image of my mother. Appearances over truth, always. I took the tissue from her and shut off the waterworks. “Thanks. Hard to not get emotional when you look so gorgeous, Vick.” I knew the sound of the nickname
I twirled one of the curly ringlets that the stylist had weaved in and out of my side braid and batted my false eyelashes at her. “Don't you just love weddings?”
“Ugh,” she snarled. She bit off a cuss word or two as she barreled through her friends and out the door. It clicked shut and I turned back to my reflection. To be honest, I looked nothing like me. Every blemish was hidden, every imperfection contoured out of existence. My bone straight hair that usually hung like limp pasta had volume and lift. My mermaid braid even had texture, curls dipping and cradling the plait like a work of art. The last minute alterations ensured that the strapless gown hung on me just right and the corset beneath made my tiny boobs look luscious. Even though I felt like I was in a costume, 'me' radiated from within. I knew that underneath all the glitz and glamour, I was just as sexy. Xander desired me when I showed my freckles, without the push up factor, without the pound of makeup. And more than that, his love reminded me that at the end of the day, boring old Penny Robertson was more than enough.
The door swung open and I gripped the edge of the vanity, sure Lara had returned for a rematch. When I tossed my eyes in her direction, my heart stalled. It wasn't Lara. It was my sister...and she was beautiful.
Of course she was beautiful, she could make an ugly Christmas sweater and crimped hair look beautiful. I needed a thesaurus to put it in words. Breathtaking. Glorious. Freaking amazing. Her pale blonde hair was pulled to the crown of her head, a sea of intricate braids and curls pinned with jewels and tiny pearls. Instead of the usual makeup styling, enhancing her already devastating good looks, she went minimalist, her cheeks and eyes glowing with a slight shimmer. Her bright eyes glittered, framed with a swipe of mascara. Her lips shimmered with a rosy pink gloss. And the dress...I wasn't used to spending much more than $50 on a dress, but her vintage gown was worth every penny. The lace clung to her torso and hips and flared out at the knee. As everyone clamored over to her to ooo and ahh, she flashed one of her shoes, blood red pumps that matched the ruby red studs that glittered in her ears—and the rose bouquet that my mother was clutching like a child.
I felt real tears building as I watched Victoria beam and do a conservative happy dance with her friends. When she looked in my direction, I expected her to spare a smile and go back to celebrating with the people that mattered. But she pushed past her fans and barreled toward me. Before I could gasp or turn around to see if one of her friends was behind me, she wrapped her arms around me and squeezed so tight that I thought she'd break something. Usually, I'd complain or stand there awkwardly, sure it was all an act; like she was up for Sister of the Year and was damned if she wasn't snagging the trophy. This time, I felt something. It felt a lot like love.
She let me go hesitantly and looked down at me, a full head above me with her stilettos. “You look gorgeous Pen!”
As if her hug wasn't enough, hearing her call me the nickname she used when we were kids, before it became clear that I was the oddball and she was the pretty one, back when we were thick as thieves...it was enough to make the tears free fall.
“M-me?” I blubbered. “You're the gorgeous one!”
“Tissue!” Victoria called out and in a blink of an eye a tissue appeared. She gently cradled my chin, dabbing at my cheeks. “You're going to mess up your makeup.”
And there was the Victoria I knew, the spitting image of my mother. Appearances over truth, always. I took the tissue from her and shut off the waterworks. “Thanks. Hard to not get emotional when you look so gorgeous, Vick.” I knew the sound of the nickname
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