💫GISELLE💫

It had taken nearly two hours for me to feel perfect enough to go on display. My mother met me at my bedroom door, escorting me down to the party that had already started. I displayed the fakest smile I owned, taking several deep breaths as I braced myself for whatever came next.

The décor was amazing, beautiful assortments of flowers, exhibiting every color and scent that represented fall. The rust of bronze, toasty oranges, minty greens, and the mustards of yellow all filling the room with warmth and a festive cheer. My mother really went all out with the designs. The shading from each window was dim today, setting a homey and cozy mood around us. Soft jazz tones filled the air as the aroma of every favorite dish was inhaled into our nostrils. This day was not about family for my parents, but based on the effort they'd put forth, I could tell it was important.

Once downstairs, I was met by my dad's closest business friends and their son, Oliver. I hugged Mrs. Temphill and then her son. Glancing over at her husband, Mr. Temphill, I attempted to shake his hand, but he took it upon himself to pull me in for a very uncomfortable embrace. Holding my breath, trying to fight the urge to push him away, I waited for him to release me. It wasn't until Mrs. Temphill cleared her throat that he decided to let go of me.

"How's college, Giselle?" The curious eight-year-old questioned me, adjusting the mood.

"It's really great. My GPA is already extraordinary, and I pledged already."

"That's my girl." My mom grinned with pride, hand caressing my shoulder.

"Oh, that's amazing. I knew you'd go on to do wonderful things." Mrs. Temphill praised. "You've always had the brains to go with all of that beauty." As she said her last few words, her eyes traveled across my body from head to toe.

I shifted my weight from the left side to the right, hoping it would set off some kind of signal in her brain that what she was doing was rude. The envy glazing her glare. The disgust hidden behind her grin. I knew that this Mrs. Temphill had a bad taste in her mouth that either I or her husband was the cause of.

"I have to make my rounds. It was nice seeing you all." I couldn't' have gotten out of there any faster, my feet leading my body in any direction that felt safe or easy to survive. My mother trailed behind me, trying to keep up.

"I hate him." I groaned.

"You hate everyone, honey." She countered, causing my eyes to dart in her direction.

When I turned to look at my mom, I noticed a very pretty blonde woman appear and then disappear again. Her face was so familiar, her eyes drawing me in like waves in the ocean breeze. Where'd she go? Who was she? Was she watching me? Searching the room, eyes scanning every nook and cranny of the immaculately decorated room, I wasn't able to locate her again. I took a deep breath, praying hallucinations derived from the stress of playing my perfect little role, wasn't getting the best of me.

"What's wrong?"

"Um..." I looked once more, hoping I could catch just one more glance. "Nothing. I was just—nothing." Shaking it off, I realized that I was probably just tired as hell.

Another hour of meeting and greeting guests, walking as best I could in a pair of heels from my mother's closet of addiction. I swear, she owned more shoes than the shoe store, hoarding every year and season of the 'it' look. I loathed her excessive spending habits, wishing she was a bit more frugal or careful with my father's funds. Maybe if she didn't spend so much, he wouldn't have worked so much when I was growing up. At least, that's one of the tales I told myself, trying to find the perfect place to apply the resentments of blame.

"How are you sweetheart?" My father interrupted my thoughts with a one-armed hug and kiss on the forehead.

That was Angel's favorite move.

I giggled to myself, immediately being brought back to that one moment when he mumbled, "good enough to eat", planting a gentle kiss on my forehead the way he does.

"I'm—" I cleared my throat. "I'm fine." Forcing my lips outward, while they clanged to one another unwilling to part for one fake moment of assurance, I realized pretending was useless.

"I'm so happy to have you home, Giselle. This place has been pretty dull without your spark."

"Dad." A blank side-eye accompanied my condescending tone. "How the hell do you know what this place actually feels like if you're never here? It's always dull." I cracked.

"Not tonight." Releasing me from his grasp, my father faced-off with me, toe to toe like two boxing opponents, meeting in the ring for the first time. Did he want to intimidate me? Scare me into submission? I wasn't going for it.

"So then, when?" I hissed.

"Make a scene and I will make you regret it." Speaking through tight teeth, my father's eyes wandered somewhere behind me. "Roger!" He smiled and waved a friend over.

Rolling my eyes, I crossed my arms, not giving in or giving up on my own feelings. I watched as my dad pushed me to the side, praying I didn't ruin his moment. I didn't. Wanting to keep whatever peace there was, I made my way over to the table of alcohol. Grabbing a shot glass from the "fountain of youth", as it was named, I threw back the clear liquid and winced as it sent my throat blazing.

"I just know you didn't just..."

"Mom? I'm in college. What did you expect?" I laughed.

Popping my hand as I placed the glass on the table, she looked around to see if anyone was looking. "You're only eighteen. You can't just go around drinking in public."

"I'm not. This is our house. Or wait...it's actually dad's house that he's paying for with his hard-earned money." I joked.

"Okay. Calm down. This has to go well today. The last thing I need is another teenage rant from you."

There was no response good enough for her. I simply rolled my eyes and huffed an annoyed breath. My mom stood at my side for a while. I wasn't sure if she was guarding the alcohol or keeping a close eye on me, but for more moments than I cared to bare, she stood her ground and never let up.

"I love you, little girl." She whispered, nudging me in the side. "I love you with all of my heart. I just want you to know that."

Looking over at her, face flushed, jaw flinching, I imagined her love. What would it actually feel like being loved by this beautiful woman every day? Would I be embraced with warm hugs, snuggling in her arms as she produced a safe and sacred environment in her grasp? Would an adoring gaze soften the world around us, making me feel less like her shadow and more like her spawn? Less like her test subject and more like the love her of her life? What about her smile; would the love she wished she was capable of showing me cause a dark and grey universe to burst in colors of pinks and peach and vibrancies unbeknownst to a lonely girl like me? Just from her smile alone?

Imagine sitting in a room full of strangers on a day meant for family and bonding and love, feeling alone and lost; praying silent prayers of "what ifs". Imagine watching a woman scan a room for her next opportunity while you stood beside her, rotting like a warm corpse after days of deteriorating in a dark corner. Imagine smiling through it all, hugging every guest that extended themselves toward you.

"Hello gorgeous." A dark, husky, familiar, and impossible voice whispered from slightly behind me. Goosebumps ran from the back of my neck, down my spine, spreading like wildfire in the driest of summers. "Might I say, you look amazing."

I turned to face the intruder. Taken aback by his crisp and clean appearance, I didn't immediately speak, my eyes traveling from his perfect hair to his clean-shaven face. His broad shoulders, jacket hugging him in the right way, his slender build standing tall and confident in front of me. Angel was a gift from heaven.

"Wow!" Brows raised, I felt a tingle of intrigue fill me.

"You like?" He smiled, raised his chin and showing off.

"I love." I laughed, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him in for the best embrace of the day. "I can't believe you actually came. You are so crazy."

"When will you realize I'll do anything for you?" Angel caressed my cheek as he continued to compliment me. Standing only a few inches from my face, he inhaled any doubt that was exhaled from my body. "You okay?"

"Mmhmm" I lied.

It wasn't until I heard my mom clear her throat that I remembered the setting we left our bodies in, as our souls caressed and nurtured one another on our private island of love. I let go of him and quickly turned to face my mom, who was waiting impatiently for her introduction. The grin on her face told me that she at least approved of his appearance, which sent me spinning.

"Mom." I cleared my throat. "Mom, I'd like you to meet Angel." I backed up a little, so they could stand face to face. I watched my mother as she scanned his appearance closely, then met with his eyes.

"Angel, is it?" She smiled even harder. "I'm—"

"Mrs. Mone." Angel extended his hand. "It's very nice to meet you. I've heard amazing things."

"Please, call me Amelie." Showing off her French accent, mom placed her hand into Angel's and gave a gentle squeeze. "And I've heard the greatest of things about you, young man."

"Mom?" I whispered, praying she wasn't on her way to embarrassing me.

"Don't worry." She turned to me, taking two fingers and motioning to zip her lips. "Your secret is safe with me, love."

Angel's eyes met with mine, questioning the idea of me having a confession session with my mother about him. After standing my ground for a moment, I turned my eyes to the floor, blushing shyly. Without hesitation, he lifts my chin, forcing my eyes back to him, and mouthed, "it's okay", before planting a soft kiss on my forehead.

Quickly, I turned to my mom, who'd witnessed this loving gesture. She too, smiled as I did. But I couldn't focus on hers for longer than a few seconds, seeing that familiar stranger again. The cobalt stares shared between the two of us could've stopped time. Her eyes were mine, her hair, her stare, her face. She was me.

Gasp.

***Author's Words****

Angel's meeting the parents?

Who is this mystery girl Giselle keeps seeing?

Read on for more....

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