Faking Perfect
“Minutes dragged by as I stood in the baggage claim area, sweaty hands clutching the straps of my backpack and eyes darting through the crowd, scanning for a possible match. The airport was enormous. How was I supposed to find someone I hadn’t seen in person since my preschool days?Just as I was about to veer right toward baggage claim, I saw him. The man from my pictures, approaching me head-on with a small, expectant smile on his tanned face. He wore a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, f...aded jeans, and cowboy boots—an interesting complement to the intricate tattoos covering both his arms.My father’s an inked-up cowboy, I thought as I slapped on my own version of a smile, letting him know he’d found the right girl.“Lexi,” he said when he reached me, grinning wide. “I knew it was you just from your profile. It’s almost identical to your mother’s. You have her nose.”I smoothed back my hair, which felt frizzy and tangled, and looked up at him. He wasn’t as tall as I remembered, even though he was a full head above my five-foot-six.MoreLess
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