She had never considered herself pretty, nor remotely attractive. Though as she stood before him, wondering what he thought of her, if she could even pull this off and not make a complete fool out of herself, something within her changed. It was as if she was no longer awkward, no longer a rusty nail in a pile of brand new ones. For the first time, she felt beautiful.
She had always thought of her hair as too short and stringy. There was no use for it except to lie in an uneasy pile and sit hopelessly on the top of her crown, uncooperatively responding to anything she might attempt to do with it. Even its color was a dull and boring black, never catching the sun at a pleasing angle or blowing breezily in the air. To her, she appeared like a cat who had just been doused with a bucket of frigid water. Her curly hair was the water dripping off the angry cat.
Her body itself was too small, the proportions given to her anything but what they should be. She barely reached five feet tall, with short, stubby legs and a long, boring torso. Her pale, though clear, skin stretched lamely against her bones, as if she was wrapped in some transparent type of plastic wrap. Each and every one of her curves, of her flaws, were shown shamelessly because of this. Her breasts, if you could even consider them such, were far too small and not pleasing to the eyes of anyone. Her shoulders slumped inward, never sloping with a round grace that she would much rather prefer. She was way too thin, and this she knew.
Her pale face was a sallow, lifeless blob that consisted of a round yet pointed nose that slanted into her face, her large eyes filling in the remaining space. Golden orbs peeked out from eyes that seemed to have all of their light extinguished; no one could ever gaze in to for eternities, let alone minutes. Thin, pale pink lips stretched across the awkward valley that her nose had created, and when parted, revealed a full set of dazzling teeth that always seemed to carry a double meaning.
She had never considered herself pretty, nor remotely attractive. Though as she stood before him, wondering what he thought of her, if she could even pull this off and not make a complete fool out of herself, something within her changed. It was as if she was no longer awkward, no longer a rusty nail in a pile of brand new ones. For the first time, she felt beautiful.
"Alice," Jasper whispered in an awed voice, staring up at her with wide, kind eyes. The eyes that she would never have.
"Jasper," she replied, shyly placing her hands on the sides of his face, trying to focus on his twinkling eyes rather than the fact that hers were so lame compared to his.
He traced his eyes over the perfect curves of her face, over her sloping bosom and curving tummy that made his mouth water with lust. Her slender, perfect legs seemed to be screaming a welcome to his hands. Jasper glanced up at her again, and muttered something she would never forget.
"You're beautiful."