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Mia Kent walked into the ladies room and I barely recognized her. The soft lines of her face were the same, along with wide blue eyes that glared at my slack-jawed expression.
The bleach blond length with one side brutally short was now a dark, chocolate brown. A single plait weaved down her shoulder and the shorter side was smooth, the symmetrical nature of the haircut camouflaged. Except for a peach bronze on her cheeks and a glossy sheen on her lips, Mia wore no makeup. Instead of some hipster number that showed too much skin, she wore a black romper paired with a cropped denim jacket and animal print flats.
"Mia,” I breathed, staring at her with awe, “You look amazing!"
Her annoyance faded into a hesitant smile. "I do?" She fingered the dark locks gingerly. "This is as close to my natural color I've been in a long time."
I was so used to the blond that it was a shock to the system, but the rich color accentuated her features, intensifying her electric blue eyes. "The color is beautiful, the outfit is casual, yet sophisticated--" I paused, the slight smile on my lips broadening. "I'm impressed."
"And you--" She stopped. Her eyes slowly took me in, decidedly less awestruck. "Uh..."
'Uh' was right. Sure, I was wearing all the right pieces--a cobalt blue blouse, a cream colored skirt and nude heels--but it all looked kinda meh because the rest of me was pretty lackluster. My hair rioted against all attempts at taming it, determined to do nothing except frizz, so I piled it on top of my head. All the hairspray and gel in the world couldn't smooth my flyaway curls, so it looked like I'd taken a section of hair at the crown of my head and tried for a ponytail while the rest just did its own thing.
A lack of sleep meant I had bags beneath my eyes and my complexion was splotchy and irritated. Mia looked ready for a new chapter--I looked like a beat up edition far past its prime.
She stepped up beside me, taking the foundation from my hand. "Long night?"
"Something like that." I answered. Considering her signature look was drag queen chic, I should have been a little more apprehensive when she took the sponge and went to work. I decided to just go with it. At this point, you're so low you can't go anywhere else but up.
"Does this have to do with Jacob's mom?" she asked cautiously.
The cowardly answer was yes. Alicia had pretty much disregarded Jacob's pleas and kicked the planning into overdrive. From this moment until the wedding, there would be no such thing as free time.
Jacob was so preoccupied with making sure she didn't do anything to strenuous that it was pretty much all Alicia Whitmore, all the time.
But the fact remained that the reason I tossed and turned all night was the same reason I'd tossed and turned ever since Alicia decided to become Mother-in-Law of the Year. I was pissed at myself for not speaking up. Not asserting myself. As easy a target as Jacob’s overzealous mother was, she was a symptom, not the disease.
I wasn't gonna unload on Mia. Not when she'd come here with her A-game. “It’s cool. I’m just tired.”
She didn’t push it, shrugging a shoulder as she finished, standing back. Since she wasn't cringing, I took it as a good sign, but still hesitantly turned back to the mirror.
I had to give credit where it's due--she'd worked some kind of magic on my face. My eyes still told the truth of the hour or so of sleep I'd gotten, but the bags had been camouflaged. My cheeks were perky and smooth instead of droopy and blah. I didn't even protest when she stepped toward me and started tugging my hair band from its futile position, freeing my curls to bounce past my shoulders. I was about to look like an eighties rock star, but I figured it couldn't be much worse than what I looked like before. She pulled a clip from her pocketbook and spun me around to face the sink. She twisted two bunches and brought them around to the center of my head and secured them. The contrast between the controlled twists and my wiry curls worked. It was the perfect style to compliment my light makeup and soften the fierce lines of my outfit.
"Mia..." I didn't know what else to say besides that. I just couldn't believe she'd done what took an army of stylists an hour to pull off in five minutes. And there was another, not so nice reason I was so shocked.
She gave me a knowing smile. "Surprised the magazine’s favorite ‘How Not to do Your Makeup’ target can show restraint?"
I bit my lip peevishly. Guilty as charged. "It really looks amazing, Mia." I turned back to the mirror to stare at my reflection. I kept finding some new contour that accentuated my cheekbones or made some feature really pop.
"If this acting thing doesn't work out, I think you have a bright future as a makeup artist." I'd said it jokingly, but my smile dropped as soon as I saw her crestfallen face. I wheeled to face her, hands on her shoulders. "What's wrong?"
Her blue eyes hardened to ice. "You don't have to make fun of me. I know it's not that great."
I gaped at her. I was no comedian, but I thought it was relatively clear that I'd been joking--and definitely not with malicious intent.
"I wasn't making fun of you," I said firmly, making sure she caught how serious I was. "It's really gorgeous. You're very talented."
She didn't seem too convinced, which gave me pause. Mia was fairly confident, but at that moment she didn’t look too sure of anything. She looked cornered, like she wanted to run and hide.
How did a girl with so much talent wilt before my very eyes?
I frowned, remembering her shaky relationship with her family. That was the only thing that made sense. I'd clearly unearthed some scar, a deep hurt where someone she’d cared about killed her creative spirit. They took something she was passionate about and told her she wasn't anything extraordinary.
She shrugged out of my grip, the sight of her pulling on a mask chilling. I was used to the sting of frustration as I watched Jacob hide away his vulnerability, but not Mia. It left a dull ache in my chest.
"We should get down to the conference room." She held open the door, flashing me a mischievous smile that blurred the dark moment we’d just shared. "We don't want to leave Rachel waiting."
