“Please, let me choose your outfit!”
My attention shifts to her in an instant while I pause, and my demeanor remains solemn because I detest the sound of her suggestion. When I remain silent, she takes it for a yes and I roll my eyes before she rushes over to my closet and begins rummaging through my belongings.
“Wow, you like wearing dark clothes.”
She isn’t wrong; most of my clothes are dark and frumpy, which is exactly how I want them. I don't care for materialistic things in life; I wear whatever the fuck I want and feel comfortable in.
“But this is really cute.”
She pulls out a dress I have never worn, but it is fucking pink, and I am not sure what cursed me to buy it in the first place. My gaze wanders down it as she holds it up with a wide smile on her face, and I sigh before facing away and responding through clenched teeth.
“Fine.”
She shrieks with glee, setting my ears on fire.
“Can I also do your hair and makeup?”
My eyes meet hers immediately, and she gazes at me eagerly before I growl and glance aside once more.
“Fine.”
She squeals again, and I start to wonder if she is stupid enough not to notice my sour attitude, or if she simply chooses to fucking ignore it.
After I have showered and gotten dressed, she stands behind me in the bathroom, curling my long, brown hair.
“I'm curious if there will be any hot guys at the party. There undoubtedly will be if it is Chaos and his crew, right?”
I remain silent and avoid making eye contact with her in the mirror in front of me.
“So, are you on the pull tonight?”
My gaze darts to her when she says the words, and I give her a half-phony smile.
“Sure, why not.”
She beams at me before continuing to work on my hair, and my mind wanders to the string of failed dating attempts I have had over the years. Each time, it is the same old fucking story: they disappear without a word, leaving me wondering what went wrong, and because of that, it has left me, a twenty-one-year-old virgin.
It’s yet another secret of humiliation that I keep tightly hidden, but despite the doubts, I cannot help but think that I am not entirely alone and unlovable, am I? My stalker loves the absolute shit out of me, and I have no idea how, who, or why, but if I were to ever get too close to a guy, he would send me warning letters, so I stopped looking for a boyfriend online or anywhere else. I have now become used to loneliness for the time being, even if deep down I want to be touched and feel loved since I am tired of having to please myself. I need intimacy. I am only human.
She suddenly turns off the curling iron and places it on the counter.
“Okay, all done!”
I lift my eyes, my sight shifting down my tiny physique before they settle on my make-up-smothered face, and I realize it is as if I have aged around ten years and no longer resemble myself.My long dark hair, now loosely curled, cascades down the front of me, reaching to my hips, a reminder of how my Nana ordered me to never cut it.
“You look beautiful, Charley.”
In the reflection, my expressionless eyes shift to hers and she smiles sheepishly at me.
“Alright, let's get going!”
As she strides out of the bathroom, her tall heels clicking over the tiles, I take one final look in the mirror, inhale deeply, and then follow her.
Arriving at the party in the Uber, my eyes fixate on the grand white mansion towering before us, vibrant lights pulse to the beat of the echoing, booming music. People crowd in the street, dancing, and drinking, adding to the lively atmosphere.
When I step out of the car, I can feel my heart racing, my palms sweating, and nerves tingling up my spine, but Lucy's hand intertwining with mine provides me with reassurance, grounding the chaotic thoughts in my mind.
“It's okay, Char; let's get you a drink, and you'll feel a lot better.”
