hair.
"Can I do your hair and makeup for tonight? I want you to walk into his home flaunting what he got you and what you already have. You're going to be turning every head in that house tonight."
"Fine," I groan. "If it makes you happy."
"If you weren't so oddly stubborn about a wealthy, attractive man buying you things, you'd be happy too."
I don't bother retorting. She is right, and we both know it. Instead I just slip on the clothes I had picked out earlier and straddle the now vacant toilet seat. Clarissa wastes no time in brushing out my hair before blow drying it.
For the next two hours I'm her canvas. She does a French braid that curves to the side of my neck, then curls the ends that hang loose. All the hair is bunched in different spots around the base of my braid using bobby pins to hold it up, but you can't see them. Some curls still dangle from my hair, giving it an added touch. It's the most elegant my hair has ever looked. Something you'd see in the wedding edition of Vogue.
My makeup certainly enhances my eyes with the amount of black eyeliner she adds and the smoky look she perfected years ago. I use mascara almost daily but I've never gotten my lashes so thick or long before. I'm ultimately amazed at how Clarissa has made me look. I could walk a runway right now, and I'm only in jean shorts and a tank top.
"Wow," I say, looking in the mirror.
"It'll be better when I paint your lips with red lipstick. I'll do that right before you leave so it doesn't wear off."
Dad knocks on the door frame to grab my attention, even though the door is wide open. I turn to face him and whatever words were about to come out of his mouth stumble. I've never seen his eyes water so easily just by looking at me. "Dad?"
He shakes his head. "Sorry. You... you look just like her." He can't seem to even move right now. Not even to wipe the few tears that fall from his eyes.
I can't find the words to say. I'm not sure if to be sorry about that or not. If anything, it makes me grateful. I like knowing I'm honestly beautiful enough to bring tears to my dad's eyes. Figuring that talking is pointless, I just walk over to my dad and wrap my arms around his shoulders. "I love you, Daddy."
He chokes up, but manages to tell me he loves me too.
I have to hold back my own tears, too scared to ruin the makeup that Clarissa just worked hard on. I take a step back from dad and smile up at him. He wipes at the few tears threatening to spill over once again. Clearing his throat, he finally tips his head back. "That boyfriend of yours is outside waiting on you."
"Blaise?" I ask, surprised.
"Yeah. He is just parked in the driveway."
"Weird." I walk around my dad out of the bathroom and slip on a pair of sandals before walking outside to see why Blaise is just sitting my driveway. I know I didn't call him like I said I would, but he didn't try calling me either, nor did he text me back.
Blaise is on his phone, sitting in his SUV with the driver's window down. The music is thumping some kind of rap music that I didn't even know he listened to. Another thing to add to the list of things I'm learning about the man I consider my boyfriend.
I open the passenger door up and climb up onto the leather seat. Blaise doesn't even bother looking at me when I climb in. "I'll catch you at ten." He ends the call before dropping the phone into his lap. He turns to give me his full attention. I'm a little disappointed when he doesn't compliment on how nice I look right now. I
"Can I do your hair and makeup for tonight? I want you to walk into his home flaunting what he got you and what you already have. You're going to be turning every head in that house tonight."
"Fine," I groan. "If it makes you happy."
"If you weren't so oddly stubborn about a wealthy, attractive man buying you things, you'd be happy too."
I don't bother retorting. She is right, and we both know it. Instead I just slip on the clothes I had picked out earlier and straddle the now vacant toilet seat. Clarissa wastes no time in brushing out my hair before blow drying it.
For the next two hours I'm her canvas. She does a French braid that curves to the side of my neck, then curls the ends that hang loose. All the hair is bunched in different spots around the base of my braid using bobby pins to hold it up, but you can't see them. Some curls still dangle from my hair, giving it an added touch. It's the most elegant my hair has ever looked. Something you'd see in the wedding edition of Vogue.
My makeup certainly enhances my eyes with the amount of black eyeliner she adds and the smoky look she perfected years ago. I use mascara almost daily but I've never gotten my lashes so thick or long before. I'm ultimately amazed at how Clarissa has made me look. I could walk a runway right now, and I'm only in jean shorts and a tank top.
"Wow," I say, looking in the mirror.
"It'll be better when I paint your lips with red lipstick. I'll do that right before you leave so it doesn't wear off."
Dad knocks on the door frame to grab my attention, even though the door is wide open. I turn to face him and whatever words were about to come out of his mouth stumble. I've never seen his eyes water so easily just by looking at me. "Dad?"
He shakes his head. "Sorry. You... you look just like her." He can't seem to even move right now. Not even to wipe the few tears that fall from his eyes.
I can't find the words to say. I'm not sure if to be sorry about that or not. If anything, it makes me grateful. I like knowing I'm honestly beautiful enough to bring tears to my dad's eyes. Figuring that talking is pointless, I just walk over to my dad and wrap my arms around his shoulders. "I love you, Daddy."
He chokes up, but manages to tell me he loves me too.
I have to hold back my own tears, too scared to ruin the makeup that Clarissa just worked hard on. I take a step back from dad and smile up at him. He wipes at the few tears threatening to spill over once again. Clearing his throat, he finally tips his head back. "That boyfriend of yours is outside waiting on you."
"Blaise?" I ask, surprised.
"Yeah. He is just parked in the driveway."
"Weird." I walk around my dad out of the bathroom and slip on a pair of sandals before walking outside to see why Blaise is just sitting my driveway. I know I didn't call him like I said I would, but he didn't try calling me either, nor did he text me back.
Blaise is on his phone, sitting in his SUV with the driver's window down. The music is thumping some kind of rap music that I didn't even know he listened to. Another thing to add to the list of things I'm learning about the man I consider my boyfriend.
I open the passenger door up and climb up onto the leather seat. Blaise doesn't even bother looking at me when I climb in. "I'll catch you at ten." He ends the call before dropping the phone into his lap. He turns to give me his full attention. I'm a little disappointed when he doesn't compliment on how nice I look right now. I
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