Paint Me Beautiful

going to help me find it whether I want to or not.

 

    When I wake up, Emmett is lying peacefully next to me, face soft, lips gently parted. My bedroom is bathed in gray and purple shadows that are in a slow retreat, getting ready to give up their domain to the cheery bathe of sunshine that's peeking over the mountains outside my window. Shit. I crawl out of bed, moving carefully, so that I don't disturb Emmett and grab my robe from the hook on the bathroom door. Once my body is carefully hidden away beneath pink terrycloth, I grab the clock next to my laptop and spin it towards me, so I can see the time.
    It's six in the morning.
    I let my eyes flutter closed and try to breathe. Emmett is going to have the worst walk of shame when he leaves this room. I consider waking him now and shooing him out, but then Big Bob will put him on his infamous Shoot On Sight list that he keeps tacked to the wall in his office. It's supposed to be a joke, but I'm not so sure about that. I leave Emmett as he is and slide open the top drawer of my dresser carefully, trying to stay as quiet as possible. I'm feeling … strange … different … conflicted. I need to get out of this house and pound the pavement, let my mind try to sort out this mixed bag of thoughts and emotions that are hanging around my neck, heavy as lead.
    I dress myself in black yoga pants, a blue sports bra and a gray cami, slip on some tennis shoes and grab my MP3 player. I pick something fun to listen to, something that might help me mimic the giddy flutter of hope that Emmett somehow slipped inside of me yesterday. I decide on some RuPaul. After all, if a song named Glamazon can't help me perk up, nothing will.
    I grab my water bottle, sneak down the stairs and out the front door without incident, pausing on the porch to let the cool morning air kiss my cheeks and wake me up. After a couple good breaths and a few simple stretches, I start to run. There's no doubt in my mind on whether I'm going to choose the road or the trails. I need to smell pine and dirt and nature, let myself move beneath the gentle eyes of the forest and unwind.
    Emmett did something to me last night.
    I don't know what it is or how he accomplished it, but suddenly, there's this tiny voice in my head that's telling me that maybe things aren't as bad as I thought they were? Of course, overriding that is a much louder voice that's warning me away from Sinclair, telling me to get out while I still can, before he steals my dreams away and leaves me hurting. I don't want to end up married and pregnant, a housewife, someone who always wonders what might've been. Falling in love is not an option for me.
    I want to be a model.
    I run faster.
    I want to be thin.
    I vault over a log, my tired legs shaking as I land hard and feel my underused muscles protest.
    I want to be beautiful.
    I've barely made it a quarter mile before I have to stop and lean against a tree, strain for breath, fight to keep my shaky knees from buckling. I down half my water in one gulp, so desperate to get something in my belly that I end up spilling most of the remaining liquid down my chest where it soaks into my shirt and leaves me quivering. I'm both cold and hot right now, and the feeling isn't terribly pleasant.
    “ Shit.”
    I start to run again.
    Emmett Sinclair is an interesting man, and let's be frank, he's a-fucking-mazing in the bedroom. I like him, a lot, but if I decide to date him, what am I getting myself into? My dreams come first, and that's that. I want to be seen. I want to be that girl that all the other girls look up to, that they dream about. I want to brand the world with a part of me, leave a mark, but most of all, I'm afraid to fail. The thought of being just another face in the crowd terrifies me. But I don't feel that way when Emmett looks at me. What does that mean? Why does he make me feel like I already am somebody?
    I cut across a small stream and splash through the muddy ground on the opposite side, huffing and puffing like I've run a marathon and not a half mile in my backyard. Still, no matter how much it hurts, I have to remember what the end result will be: a body I'm proud of, a spot in Lianna's agency, a career. I push myself harder, breaking off this trail at the next fork and heading deeper into the trees.
    If Emmett likes you, he'll wait around. You have goals, Claire. Think about this: you've never accomplished anything in your life. You always give up. You can't do that this time.