Free Destined To Fall by Tamsyn Bester Page A

and I stick my hand out to greet
them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I greet politely. “And congratulations on
your wedding anniversary. Jarred and Drew speak fondly of both of you.”
Drew’s mother accepts my hand, though she touches it like it’s diseased.
“Drew,” she says, ignoring me. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing a date.”
“Joanne.” Drew’s father gives his wife a stern look and then takes my hand.
I’m surprised when he places a gentle kiss on my knuckles. I expected him
to greet me no better than his wife did. “It’s a pleasure to meet you my dear.
Thank you for joining us. I do hope you will enjoy your evening.”
“Thank you,” I reply.
Drew’s parents are greeted by several other friends and Drew joins in their
conversation.
He makes no gesture to introduce me. In fact, he’s acting as if I don’t exist.
When I excuse myself, the only person who shows the tiniest bit of acknowledgement is Drew’s father, Clive.
I don’t miss the way his guests look at me, like they can smell that I’m out of
place. I walk away from their group, head held high, no matter how small I feel
right at this moment. The tears I can feel welling up threaten to spill so I bite
the inside of my mouth to keep them at bay, at least until I’m alone. I escape
the banquet room, mostly unnoticed, and go in search of the bathroom. When
the ‘click’ of the door sounds behind me, I close the toilet and take a seat just
as hot liquid escapes over the rims of my eyes. I’ve never been ashamed of who
I am or where I come from. I used it to my advantage, to drive me to make
something better of myself, my life. But the way these people looked at me,
like they know I’m not part of this world, has left me feeling abashed. I wrap
some toilet paper around my fingers and dab under my eyes. The sight of my
smudged and ruined make-up spurs up sudden anger. I don’t have to prove
myself to these people, nor do I have to change just to fit in. I may not have
attended a fancy prep school or grown up in a mansion with maids and butlers
to cater to my every whim, but I worked my ass off in college to be more than
what I came from. Damn these horrid snobs I tell myself. Damn them all to hell. I gather my pride, and my composure, and step out of the safety of the cubicle.
At first glance, the mirror reveals what I already know. My make-up is ruined
and I have the worst case of raccoon eyes ever. So much for waterproof mascara. I open my clutch, grateful that I remembered my emergency make-up
bag. I wipe away the smudges of black under my eyes and apply fresh concealer, followed by a new coat of mascara. I add a bit of color to my cheeks, more
so to hide the redness from crying than anything, and as I swipe my nude gloss
across my lips, the bathroom door swings open. I’ve never seen Jessa Price up
close until now.
Sure, I’ve seen her in every female glossy magazine in publication, along with
a few gossip magazines, but not like this.
I can definitely see what all the fuss is about though.
Her red hair is fiery, and from what I hear it matches her personality. Her complexion is creamy, like porcelain, and her skin is as flawless as it looks in those
skin care adverts. Her legs are long, longer than I mine since she looks to be a
head taller than I am, and connect to what men would describe as the perfect
ass. But none of those are part of the reason why I’m jealous of her. No. Only
one thing has made me hate her before even knowing her and it’s the fact that
I caught her in Kyler’s lap yesterday and that she’s here with him tonight. And
yes, I hate her for it, but I won’t analyze why seeing them together has me unglued. She catches me staring and her Angelina Jolie like lips lift into a knowing smirk. Bitch. I roll my eyes and put my lip gloss back in my clutch. Now
that my make-up is fixed, and I’ve given myself a ‘pep talk’, I feel ready to get
this night over with,