Читать книгу Fashionably Yours - Swati Sharma - Страница 14

June 4

Today I was supposed to be up and ready by six-thirty for my first ever spinning class but when my alarm rang to life at six a.m. sharp, I failed spectacularly to haul myself out of bed.

Filled with remorse, guilt and anger on my failure, I walked into the smallest elevator of the world and squeezed myself between the four people who definitely belonged to the sales department. They dismounted on the first floor, into the same direction with a practiced, synchronized walk. Bizarre.

As soon as I found myself alone, I took a deep sigh because now I could adjust my knickers which were two sizes too small for me but were the only sexy knickers I possessed. The people who tell you to eat chocolate when you are sad or angry are not always right. Try lacy knickers in the right size and you would feel equally comforted and satisfied. Now, I didn’t buy two-sizes-too-small knickers to dupe myself into thinking that I was petite. I got them for free when they were sent to Style for promotions by a new lingerie company and everyone got to pick. By the time I came to know about it and had raced to the conference room to get mine, there were only two sizes left: S or L. I picked S.

Lifting my kaftan dress up and clutching its hem between my chin and chest, I was busy adjusting its digging elastic. Ah! What a relief! Suddenly I felt the lift going down instead of up where it should have been going. Before I could do anything about it the doors opened on the ground floor, revealing the very awful sight of my cellulite-covered thighs. I wanted to do die right there.

“Oh fuck,” I muttered under my breath.

A tall, lean, dishevelled and utterly gorgeous man with a sharp look was standing there, right in front of me, absorbing the horrible view of my horrible knickers and absolutely horrendous thighs. I was frozen in my spot. I had never seen a guy like him in flesh and blood ever before in my life. His angular jaw and perfectly sculpted face set my heart racing. I couldn’t bring myself to look away from his utterly gorgeous face

“Are you all right?” walking inside the lift, he asked in an impossibly gentlemanly manner. His voice gave me goose bumps, everywhere. It felt like the music to my ears. I looked at him shamelessly.

“Yes,” I finally found my voice and my senses and quickly averted my gaze. Pulling the dress down to cover my generous curves I mumbled, “Sorry about that,” and looked at the lift floor, willed it to split in two and swallow me whole. For the first time in my life I had met a guy like him and that too in this horrible state. Why did I have cellulite thighs