They all stared at her as she walked in, dressed in fresh nails, a tight dress, and that over-rehearsed grin. Phones were out, lights were flashing, and I watched it all from across the room, sipping slowly, unfazed. She was the star of the night, but I didn't sweat it. I merely reclined back and thought to myself, "Not as cute as me."
Because attractiveness is more than simply cosmetics and high heels. It's the way I communicate without trying, the way I raise a brow when I'm skeptical, and the way I chuckle from the bottom of my lungs when something really amuses me. My charming is alive, breathing, and unpredictable.
She is the picture-perfect edition that everyone is accustomed to seeing. I'm the one they remember when the lights go out when it's quiet, real, and raw. I am the one who has soul in her smile and wickedness in her eyes.
They may applaud for her tonight. But what about tomorrow? They will still be thinking of me.
Because, in all honesty, she isn't as lovely as I am.