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when she saw.
    But Romeo was there. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her just before the water touched her. It rushed around his feet and ankles, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy kissing her.
    Sometimes I wondered if I would ever know what that kind of love felt like.
    The sliders behind me opened and my body tensed, afraid it was Braeden. I wasn’t ready to see him yet. I didn’t know what it would be like between us.
    “There you are,” Missy said and sidled up beside me at the railing.
    “Hey.” I gave her a smile and sipped at my coffee. “Can you believe the week is already over?” I asked, gazing back down the beach toward Rimmel and Romeo.
    “It went by fast,” Missy agreed, following my gaze. “Those two really are perfect together.”
    “Yeah,” I agreed and turned back to her. She was wearing a pair of navy loose, lightweight pants with a high waist and a fitted red T-shirt tucked into the waist. Her dark hair was pulled up in a messy bun on the top of her head and she had a pair of large white sunglasses on her makeup-free face.
    Missy was gorgeous. She was tall and thin, moved with grace, had olive-toned, perfect skin and wide gray eyes. In all honesty, she could be a model. That’s how beautiful she was.
    And since I was standing here being honest, I could admit sometimes she made me feel like a frump. Out of the three of us, I was probably the most plain. Rimmel had the whole adorably rumpled thing going on, and when she let me style her, the rumpled look turned into unique beauty. Rimmel might not realize it, but all her “imperfections” made her very eye-catching. Hell, she’d caught Romeo’s eye.
    I’d hate her, but it was impossible. She was so incredibly genuine. I’d much rather have her as a best friend than an enemy.
    Missy made most girls look plain. She was just naturally glamorous. Most eyes went to her when she walked in a room.
    And then there was me.
    I was somewhere in the middle of the unintentional beauty and the natural beauty. More average. I guess it’s why I tried so hard with my appearance. Well, that and I just really loved clothes.
    I was average height, not short or tall. I wasn’t fine boned or long and lean. I filled out my clothes, honestly more than I’d like. I wasn’t heavy, but I was curvy. My hourglass shape sometimes frustrated me because trying to dress it wasn’t always easy. Some days I wished I had the kind of body everything looked good on, like Missy, and sometimes I wished I didn’t care how I looked, like Rimmel, but I didn’t and I did.
    My blond hair was highlighted to be brighter because if I didn’t, it would look like I soaked my head in dirty dishwater on a daily basis. Ew. My blue eyes didn’t seem that exotic or spectacular when I scrutinized them in the mirror, and my skin was on the pale side—it lacked the golden glow Missy always seemed to have.
    Basically, I was high maintenance. Most people probably thought I dressed cute, styled my hair and always had makeup on because I was self-absorbed. They probably thought I spent too much time looking in the mirror and assumed I thought I was better than everyone else.
    You know what they say about assuming.
    (ASS-U-ME = makes an ass out of u and me)
    The truth was I did that stuff for me. To make me feel good about myself. There was nothing worse than walking around with this voice constantly whispering inside your head that you aren’t good enough. That people would cast their eyes your way, only to immediately dismiss you as someone who didn’t deserve a second glance.
    So yeah, I styled my hair every day and I put on makeup. I wore cute jeans and heels to make me a little taller. I wore tops that accentuated the curves I had instead of hiding them. Everyone always thinks blondes have it easy, that they’re the most beautiful.
    It’s not true.
    Being blond and blue-eyed gets me more distasteful looks than being exotic-looking ever could. I’m stereotyped