A Flaw So Beautiful

By Alora Kate

Ashton:

I'm barely holding on. I'm always on the edge, even after all these years. I live every day the same, and I can't change who I am… no matter how much I try. My new neighbor won't stop asking my name and trying to make conversation with me. If he knew me, he wouldn't keep trying. I'm just a lost cause.

 

Lincoln:

My neighbor… She's mysterious, hiding behind sunglasses that cover most of her face. I ask her name and try to get her to talk on the rare occasions I see her in the hallway, but she ignores me, turning away every time. I need to know more about this woman; I can't get her out of my head.

 

Bonus scenes included.

Warning: Some people might consider this a Dark Romance. Recommended for 18+ due to graphic details and language.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alora Kate
• Release date: Jan 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386039402

Alora Kate

"I hear voices in my head and I love that its totally okay." - Alora Kate  Alora Kate is a multi-genre author who likes to be bold and original; stepping outside of the box and bringing her readers fresh characters from all parts of life. She’s a mother, college student, photographer, and graphic designer. She resides in northern MN with her son, where she plans to stay for a long time despite the cold winters. 

Book preview

A Flaw So Beautiful

by

Alora Kate

I hear voices in my head and I love that it’s totally okay.

~ Alora Kate

Copyright © 2017/2022 Alora Kate

All rights reserved.

Editor: Silvia Curry

Cover by: Alora Kate

Cover Model: Symphony Wirtala

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction.

Characters, Names, Places, and Incidents

are products of MY Crazy Imagination.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means,

including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods,

without the prior written permission of the publisher,

except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews

and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

THANK YOU!

To the ladies in my life,

your love and support mean the world to me.

These are just a few ...

Silvia Curry, Ella Winters,

Kim Sutton, Sylvia Volkmer Schneider,

Shani Kenny, Jen Taylor, Michelle Volk,

Tiffany Uran, Stephanie Bingham

––––––––

Thank you to these amazing BLOGGERS...

Blogging For The Love of Authors and Their Books

Elusively Ella's Bookishness

The Chronicles of an Abibliophobiac

Marnie’s Musings and Special Events,

There are so many more.

I wish I could list them all.

––––––––

And most of all, THANK YOU READERS!

I love hearing from you and reading your reviews!

Happy Reading!

Warning: Some people might consider this a Dark Romance.

Recommended for 18+ due to graphic details and language.

––––––––

A note from the author:

I wrote this story about three years ago,

but it wasn’t final.

I know why it took so long and I’m glad

I waited all these years to finish their story.

Some issues in this story can be triggers for others,

but this story is meant to

help people heal and move on.

Dedicated to

Sue Snider Guerra

You are my rock.

Solid and Strong.

Thanks for helping me through my own darkness

so I could heal and move on.

#IamASurvivor

This book contains graphic language

and scenes. Rated R Recommended for 18+

Survivors ...

––––––––

I am a Survivor. With a big ol’ capital S. Why the big S?

Because being a Survivor requires the acknowledgment of something stronger than just a name or description. It’s not who I am totally, but a big portion of my heart, soul and body.

Shani Kenny 2015

#IAmASurvivor

A survivor isn’t just a label. It is a personality trait. It is fight or flight. It is the tiny spark,

the will to move towards the light of the new day, no matter how much darkness surrounds you.

One day, you’ll find your light.

Silvia Curry

#IAmASurvivor

Surviving isn’t just one moment or one episode, it happens in layers. Being a survivor defines strength, it is passion, love for oneself, our compass for what direction we are in and it grounds us in this chaotic world we live in. Being a survivor is a very personal journey that connects us all, no matter the circumstances.

Sue Snider Guerra

#IAmASurvivor

I am stronger, stronger than strong. Stronger than the mental and physical pain and scars. I am a survivor and will never be ashamed of what has tried to hurt me.

Carrie Pacini 2016

#IAmASurvivor

I'm a Survivor, because I fought with the help from an amazing group of women. I'm still fighting to be free from my demons daily. I'm going to survive this.

Chloe Meyer

#IAmASurvivor

A Flaw So Beautiful

by

Alora Kate

Contents

Chapter 1 - Lincoln

Chapter 2 - Ashton

Chapter 3 - Lincoln

Chapter 4 - Ashton

Chapter 5 - Lincoln

Chapter 6 - Ashton

Chapter 7 - Ashton

Chapter 8 - Ashton

Chapter 9 - Ashton

Chapter 10 - Ashton

Chapter 11 - Lincoln

Chapter 12 - Ashton

Chapter 13 - Lincoln

Chapter 14 - Lincoln

Chapter 15 - Ashton

Chapter 16 – Ashton

Chapter 17 - Lincoln

Chapter 18 - Ashton

Chapter 19 - Ashton

Chapter 20 - Lincoln

Chapter 21 - Ashton

Chapter 22 - Ashton - A few weeks later

Chapter 23 - Lincoln - Weeks later

Chapter 24 - Ashton

Chapter 25 - Epilogue, 6 years later

Chronical 1 – Ashton

Chronicle 2 - Ashton

Chronicle 3 – Ashton

Chapter 1 - Lincoln

Stalking someone is wrong.

It’s inappropriate.

It’s dishonest.

Above all, it’s illegal. I know all of this; yet, I continue my ritual of stalking, every week, on Monday.

Or maybe I was just a very good watcher? I had a good eye and paid attention to detail. Once I saw or read something, it was stored in my memory and I could recall it easily. That’s why I always got A’s in school and ended up torturing many of my classmates, along with my little sister.

It’s just who I was, and whether someone considered what I was doing, stalking or watching, I hadn’t stopped. I’m here every Monday morning, standing in my doorway just to see her. Just to spend those few seconds with her.

There was something about this girl that called to me, and I wanted to know more about her. I needed to know why I couldn’t stop myself from being in this hallway every Monday morning. 

Maybe it was because she ignored me?

Maybe it was because I liked a challenge?

Or maybe it was because her ass looked good in her jeans?

Yes, definitely the jeans.

She must not be too worried about it because no cops or the landlord came knocking on my door. I just wanted to talk to her, get to know her, maybe take her out for coffee.

Besides, she hasn’t ever asked me to stop, so why not keep trying?

I was a nosy neighbor. It wasn’t healthy. My best friend, Nick, made sure he mentioned it on numerous occasions.

Here I was, standing in my doorway, on Monday Number Nine, the same scene playing out just as it has for the past eight weeks. She lived one door down and across the hall from me. I only knew a few things about her, none of which she shared. It was only because she couldn’t hide those things from me. Hell, I still don’t even know her name. It was weird having a one-sided conversation with myself.

I thought about the previous eight Mondays and what happened.

Monday Number One: It was the first day I noticed her walking into the building. I moved into the apartment building that day. Nick and I were taking in the last of the boxes out of my truck. I was in the truck at the time, pushing another box to the edge of the bed when I looked up and saw her. She had just turned to go into the building, so I didn’t catch her face. However, I did notice her nice round ass that a pair of dark washed jeans hugged perfectly. I was an ass man and immediately intrigued. I jumped down from the truck, grabbed the box quickly, and headed inside hoping to catch her in the hallway. By the time I got inside, she was gone, but Nick had been walking towards me. He’d not seen any woman in the hallway.

Monday Number Two: I had just got back from my morning run and was unlocking my door when I caught sight of her walking in the building. She had only been a few seconds behind me.

Perfect timing, right?

So, I said, Hi, as she passed by, trying to introduce myself and she cut me off by saying, I’m a lesbian. She never looked at me, never stopped walking, and was inside her apartment before I could comment back.

This time I noticed she wore big black sunglasses that covered half of her face. They had some kind of design on them, like fake diamonds or something on the side. Her hair was brown, tied up on top of her head in a messy looking bun, and I could tell from that, that her hair was really long. Seeing her in the white t-shirt and jeans reminded me that it looked like the same outfit she wore last Monday.

She was carrying a couple bags of groceries in one hand, and a dark purse was hanging from the other shoulder.

I laughed to myself at her lesbian comment because I knew she was just blowing me off. I’m a bouncer at a popular nightclub in town and the girls that I work with always tell the customers that so they don’t bother and hit on them all night. 

I had seen her twice now; both on Mondays, around the same time, so I knew I’d be taking my morning run at the same time. Maybe I could get lucky three Mondays in a row; unless of course, I got another chance to talk to her before next Monday.

But I did not get another chance that week.

Monday Number Three: She had the same look on her face; not interested, cold. No smile. She showed no reaction to seeing me standing in my doorway as if I wasn’t even there. I said, Hi, again. She replied with, I’m married.

I laughed and said, Is your wife shy like you? I waited the few seconds it took for her to open her door and she slipped inside without answering me.

I highly doubt she was a lesbian, let alone married. I saw no ring. I also didn’t get that vibe from her—the married vibe, the lesbian vibe, or the married lesbian vibe. This furthered my decision and actions that she was just trying to blow me off.

Monday Number Four: Over the last week I decided to change my approach. Maybe she didn’t like people all up in her business or life, so I decided to start sharing myself with her.

I had roughly twenty seconds by the time I saw her hit the top steps until she unlocked her door and shut herself inside.

I planned and rehearsed what I was going to say to make sure she would hear it all.

Here goes nothing.

My name is Lincoln, but most people call me Linc. I’m twenty-eight, I work at a bar, my favorite color is blue, and I was born without a pinky toe on my right foot, I rushed out and took another breath of air. I hope you’re happily married and your wife treats you well! She shut the door as my last word left my lips.

No response. No reaction. I thought the pinky thing would for sure get her to at least smile or laugh. In school, my friends called me Pinky. It was a stupid nickname, but my friends were assholes and stupid most of the time. I think that’s why I kept at it. I wanted her to acknowledge me.

Monday Number Five: I’m a bouncer at a bar, Thursdays to Sundays. I like to run; no, I love to run. And read, and watch movies, and hang out with my friends. My favorite food is Mexican. I’ve been to Hawaii once; it’s as beautiful as all the pictures you see online. My friends in school called me Pinky because of my toe, and I hated the nickname.

Monday Number Six: I’m tall if you haven’t noticed, six- three, which makes me especially handy in a grocery store, or reaching the kitchen cabinets. I had a Mohawk for a year; my mom hated it and refused to take any pictures of me during that year. I have one younger sister; she’s twenty-two and just graduated from college. I also have a college degree. I was hit by a car when I was seven and broke my right leg in two spots, but don’t worry, I don’t walk funny. I wondered if she even heard me, her door shut before I even finished. I made a list of more things to tell her about me for the future.

It was crazy to want to know someone who clearly did not intend to ever get to know me. You would think after being ignored for six weeks that I’d stop trying, but I couldn’t.  There was something about her. Something silent and unspoken that called to me and I wasn’t about to give up.

I wondered what could have happened to make her so shy.

I wondered why she always had on the same clothes and carried the same three bags of groceries. 

I wondered why Monday was the only day I saw her and why was it always ten a.m.?

Maybe she had trust issues?

After all these weeks, and all that’s happened, she never did anything to make me stop. She never asked me to stop. She didn’t fear me, and I guess that was another reason I kept waiting for her on Mondays.

I just wanted to know her name.

Hell, just to hear her voice again would be nice. I’d even settle for a wave or a head nod. Other than I’m a lesbian and I’m married, she hasn’t spoken to me.

Monday Number Seven: I fell in love with my high school sweetheart; our first year in college I caught her cheating on me with my best friend, who is no longer my best friend. Nick’s my best friend now, my boss, he offered me a job and I moved here from Gainsville almost two months ago. I like living here, especially the people, who are so nice to me.

She paused.

She had unlocked her door, opened it, and then paused before she stepped inside.

Say something! I screamed silently to her.

Her shoulders dropped, she let out a sigh and walked through her door.

Finally, a reaction! It was little, but it was better than nothing.

I’d take it.

Monday Number Eight: I consider you my friend even though you don’t talk to me. Nick thinks I’m crazy, he teases me, but I look forward to our twenty seconds every Monday. I’ll be here every week unless you say otherwise or you stop showing up.

She opened the door and paused.

You can do this.  I again found myself encouraging her silently.

It didn’t work.

Once again, she seemed defeated and she went inside.

So now it’s Monday Number Nine.

I’m still standing in my doorway waiting for her. She’s always here between ten and ten-fifteen. It’s now twenty after ten.

I wondered if I should worry, or if she finally changed her schedule so she didn’t have to deal with me.

Nick really does think I’m crazy. I can’t explain it to him or myself. I just know I need to keep trying. At first, it was because I knew she was just blowing me off, but now I feel like she needed me. I want to protect her and I don’t even know why. I don’t even know if she needs protecting.

I have it bad for a girl I don’t even know.

I heard the main door open.

A few seconds later, her beauty embraced me at the top of the steps.

But this time she was in a hurry. She was almost running. This was different.

Very different. Something was wrong.

Are you okay? I asked as she rushed passed me. She fumbled with her keys because her hands were shaking as she tried to open her door.

I did something different for the first time. I pushed off the door frame and walked towards her.

Are you okay? I asked again softly.

She managed to get her door open and she paused. Please don’t come any closer. Her voice was shaky just like her hands. She appeared scared of me like she’d never seen me before. Maybe even upset.

I stopped immediately and said, I won’t come any closer if you can just tell me you’re okay.

I’m fine. It was forced, and I noticed she was staring at her hand that was gripping the door handle.

Okay.

I wasn’t going to push her. After the last nine weeks, I knew she would need time. I was more than okay with it. I just wanted to make sure she was safe.

She turned her head slightly to the left to look at me.

I felt like I had won the lottery.

My heart started racing, a familiar feeling because I’m a runner, but this was different. She still wore the sunglasses but she was looking at me. She saw me. Being acknowledged by her settled something inside of me. What it settled, I had no idea, but it felt fitting and appropriate.

I couldn’t help the smile that broke out on my face.

My name is Ashton, she blurted so fast I almost couldn’t understand her.

I stood there smiling, staring at her door which was shut with her inside for just a few more minutes before going back to my apartment.

Total stalker.

But she told me her name.

Ashton.

I liked her name; she looked like an Ashton, and I was now confident I would see her again next Monday.

I went back to my place, showered, and made sure the door was unlocked at eleven. Nick would be here any minute. For the last three weeks, he started coming over at eleven to check on me. He wanted to make sure I hadn’t kidnapped the poor girl he thinks I made up in my mind. He hasn’t actually told me that yet, but I know that’s what he’s thinking.

Why else would he keep coming over and asking me twenty questions every Monday at eleven a.m.?

I heard the door open and close. You live to see another day, he said as he came into the kitchen and planted himself on a stool at the island.

I wasted no time. Her name is Ashton.

I was so happy to know her name.

No shit? He smirked. Well, it’s about fucking time. What is this like, week nine or ten?

Nine.

You’ve been in a non-relationship longer than I’ve ever dated someone, he admitted.

It was a one-sided non-relationship.

Until today.

Fuck man, he muttered, shaking his head, I thought it was bad before, but that look on your face is making me sick. I can’t continue to look at you. He crossed his eyes. I’ll have to do this shit that hurts my eyes, or start looking over your shoulder.

I couldn’t nor did I want to stop smiling. I was happy and relieved a little bit that all my time and effort had paid off. I knew it would.

Something was wrong with her today, I told Nick who put his chin in his hands, staring at me.

Speak, I’m listening, he said in a high-pitched feminine voice. Yes, I know I’m a good friend. The best one you’ll ever have. Feel free to tell me that as much as you’d like, but after you tell me what happened. He winked at me.

Don’t wink at me, pervert.

Nick was a good friend. He was there the night I caught my girlfriend cheating on me with my best friend, William. Shortly after that, William and I were fighting and two of our buddies jumped in, apparently siding with William, making me the odd man out. That was when Nick stepped in to help me. He didn’t know me, but I had seen him around campus and at a few parties. We’ve been friends ever since that night. I had no idea why Megan cheated, and with my best friend to top it off, because neither of them spoke to me after that day. She broke my heart; I hurt for a long time. She wouldn’t even talk to me or explain anything, just said she was sorry and walked away.

I’m waiting, Nick pointed out, bringing me back to the present and I went on to explain what happened.

Something was off today. She seemed nervous. She rushed to her door, and I noticed her hands were shaking when she tried to open her door. I started walking towards her and she told me to stop.

Did you?

Of course I did, you asshole. She was already upset; I wasn’t going to upset her more. Anyways, she said she was fine, blurted out her name, then rushed inside her apartment.

Anything else different? he asked. Like her outfit? Nick knows everything about our past interactions.

Clothes, bags, sunglasses—all the same. I finished drinking my shake and rinsed my cup out.

Did she happen to take off her sunglasses this time?

Nope.

Huh, he said as he scratched his chin thinking.

I was thinking the same thing, but I had made progress. I’m hoping this means she’ll start talking to me.

Fuck, if you were getting laid I’d say you were pussy whipped. I laughed it off even though he was right. You know I’m right, he insisted, though I ignored him.

I wasn’t whipped. I liked her. I wanted to know her. I wanted to know what happened to make her this way. I wanted to know why today was different. Something happened. Now I would have to wait a week until I saw her again.

It was time to change the subject. You still need me to fill in tomorrow? Nick had fired one of the bar-backs and hadn’t replaced him yet.

Yep.

Good. I could use the extra hours. My boss doesn’t pay me enough.

He slapped his hand on the island. Your boss is fucking awesome!

I shrugged my shoulders. Eh, he’s alright.

Dickhead. He jumped to his feet. Let’s go. I need a haircut. He gets his haircut every four weeks like clockwork. He goes to the same place, same girl. The first and only time I tagged along I knew immediately why. She had a nice rack and Nick was a boob man. It helped she always wore low-cut shirts and washed his hair prior to cutting it.

Why the hell do I want to watch you get a haircut again?

Now that you know her name it’s going to be worse. I thought you had it bad before but I can see it now, you’ll get even moodier as the week goes on. You’ll be more of an asshole than usual, and I heard your boss doesn’t like assholes, he teased.

Mondays are the hardest. It takes all my strength not to get up and knock on her door because I know she’s home. I’m holding out that someday she’ll surprise me and knock on my door.

Fine. Let me get ready.

This is why I’m your best friend! he shouted as I walked away to get my shirt and shoes on. I know you, Linc. I know you very well.

I walked back into the living room where he was waiting by the door. I love you, man, he said like he’s choking up with emotion. Fake emotion.

Fuck off, dude, I said with a smile.

What the hell, Linc? He faked being heartbroken and even