The Outsiders Aesthetic Novels & Stories

The look she gave me was all the confirmation I needed. In her eyes, I had underdressed again. I had always been the black sheep of the family when it comes to being aesthetic. While Rissa was tall, slender, and possessed the effortless grace of a model—despite her actual career as a success banker—I was built differently. I had a chubby, soft figure that I spent most of my life trying to bury under oversized flannels and baggy tees. I didn't like being flashy. I didn't like the way people stared when skin was involved.

Sitting next to the driver, serious and serious as always, Adrian would certainly become the attraction of the night, as he would leave the other guys in the dust. There was no other man in that school, or in that town, whose beauty could compare to his. The guy was a tyrant, cruel and heartless, but he knew how to be handsome and charming. He wore a beet-colored silk shirt, with long sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the hem of which was casually thrown over the waistband of his faded jeans. It was the first time I had seen him in jeans, with his short hair slightly messy, without leaving anything to be desired by boys my age. On the contrary, he managed to be incredibly more attractive, mor

With his intriguing blue-grey eyes, disheveled black hair that screamed sex, a brilliant pearly smile, and that figure, Ethan resembled one of the flawlessly sculpted Greek gods you only saw in museums rather than a human being. No one would be be innocent or nice if everyone looked like Ethan Ricci. As much as I hate to admit it, that boy looked nice. It’s just every else that turns me off. The endless amount of girls he sleeps with, the way he wears his clothes make him look like a cheap douche, and is icky enough to flirt with me.

Unfortunately, Jaxon Kane was standing on the other side looking like a luxury advertisement with anger issues. The suit should have been illegal. That was the first thought that came to me. It was dark charcoal, perfectly cut, fitting his broad shoulders like it had been sewn by someone who understood danger as an aesthetic. His hair was styled but not too styled and his jaw looked freshly shaved. He smelled faintly expensive. Clean. Sharp. Annoying. His eyes moved over me once. Slowly. It was not in a way that made me feel small but in a way that made me feel seen.

Their hair was overgrown in the same manner as Owen’s had been getting over the last few months, and their faces just slightly rough with stubble in the way men seemed to prefer, but which had always given her a rash when Owen had let his grow that way. Their clothing was almost studied casual, the cuffs of jeans and sleeves rolled back, shirts over t-shirts, and everything untucked, as if they had just crawled out of bed and thrown on what was lying around in order to answer the door. It was, she thought, very much how Owen dressed now, a style she had decided to call Contrived Casual. Was this how rockers dressed? She had imaged more leather. Like the jacket that Owen seemed to prefer over

That suit. That suit! Aiden clearly has no idea at all how damn sexy he looks in it. He looks pretty hot in his battered leather jacket, in a rough-around-the-edges and slightly dangerous sort of way. It’s a look that tells the world that he can look after himself so don’t try anything funny. Aiden in the suit? That’s the look that says: you should never have underestimated him, because he has now outwitted and defeated all your goons, dismantled your secret mountain lair, stolen the blueprints to your secrets and strolled out of the front door with the keys to your Ferrari dangling from his finger, while the mountainside explodes behind him.

It incinerates it and I clench my hands as I respond coolly, “Bullying looks vile on you,. And trust me, I've seen how attractive it can look on men. It looks vile on you.” I know that hit a nerve because a vein swells on Ian’s forehead. With glacier blue eyes and a short cropped buzz cut, he has the look of every moderately attractive street thug, and the tattoos peeking up from under his neck give him extra points but when he scowls… he looks like he just swallowed a lime.

I looked at her directly. No blinking. No sugarcoating. “Yeah,” I said. “I despise him.” And I meant it. With every molecule in my being. “Oh... okay...” She trailed off, blinking like she hadn't expected such a direct answer. Then, because Quinn had the attention span of a fruit fly and the filter of a toddler, she said, “But everyone here is, like, sculpted. You know, like Calvin Klein. Except Hudson. He looks like a traditional one. Like the ones from those perfume ads with fog and horses and mysterious stares.”

I’m blinded for a minute and when I can finally open my eyes enough to see, Lord Asshole himself is standing over me. His spread legs and hands on his hips irritate the shit out of me. He’s so damn beautiful even though evil coats him from head to toe. His white dress shirt is unbuttoned halfway with his smooth chest partially on display. His shirt is tucked into black slacks that must be custom-made because they cling too perfectly to his muscular legs. No tie. Too bad, I could strangle him with it. It’s either windy outside or he’s been running his hand through his short hair; it’s messy not nearly the sculpted perfection I saw yesterday. His green eyes haunted my sleep. They’re so fucking

Aaron and Mark were furious and exchanged glances before glancing at Thea, who was just looking at the show without any reaction. Sure, Thea had some extra weight, and her cheeks were round and chubby. But she wasn't ugly at all. Those girls might be so jealous of her because Thea's skin was smooth, and her figure was better than many of those girls with flat chests, not the grotesque exaggeration the red-haired girl was spreading. Even without any kind of makeup, Thea’s features were striking. She was undeniably cute and beautiful. In contrast, the red-haired girl’s thick makeup and greasy complexion were far less appealing. It was cakey, cheap, and just plain horrid