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“We’re waxing your brows,” Marissa said, like it should be obvious.
“Waxing my . . . isn’t that something only girls do?” I asked, turning to Thorne and Scarlett. But they were so engrossed in each other, neither of them heard me.
“Some guys need a little more help than others,” Marissa supplied for me, but I wasn’t about to take her word for it. Clearly, she enjoyed other people’s pain.
She started toward the eye again, but in a panic I reached out and tugged the hem of Thorne’s shirt. “It’ll be subtle. Trust me,” he said, barely sparing me a glance.
With a winning smirk, Marissa spread some of the wax between my brows, and I thought,This must be what a human science experiment feels like.
“Can you at least warn me this time?” I asked her.
“Oh sure.” Marissa cracked the gum in her mouth. “Ready?” The second the word left her mouth, she ripped the tiny strip from my flesh.
The skin around my eyes throbbed, but my hair looked good. Or, at least, that’s what Pink Hair and Marissa said before ushering me off to someone else.
A woman stood in front of me, a large tube of something in her hands, along with a brush as she stared me down.
“You want me to what?” I asked.
“Strip down.”
“Like, naked?”
“I mean, unless you want tan lines . . .” Her gaze shifted, drifting down to the area below my belt, and my arms instinctively moved to cover myself like she could somehow see what was beneath.
“Is this really necessary?” I asked. But then I closed my eyes and pictured Ella in my mind. I imagined her in a long dress, hair spilling over her shoulders. Or maybe she’d wear it piled on top of her head. I could see her big brown eyes, framed by a thick fringe of lashes, smell the soft, floral scent of her perfume, and I felt my resolve strengthening. “Okay, sure.” I nodded my agreement because anything would be better than the eyebrow waxing.
“It’ll warm your whole face, change your whole look, especially with your new hair.” The esthetician winked and ran a hand over my new locks.
I wouldn’t know. No one had allowed me to look in a mirror.
“Will I look . . . orange?”
Her mouth rounded in an “o” of horror. “Oh, no. We’re just going to give you a little color, a bronze glow. Basically, what you’d get if you spent all weekend in the sun. So with summer approaching, if you like this look, just make sure you get outside a little each day without a shirt. Do you have anything you like to do outdoors? Maybe you have a sport you like to play?”
I pursed my lips. “No sports.”
My favorite outdoor activity was looking at the stars, which conveniently took place at night where I could successfully avoid most people, and by association, the sun.
“Oh, well.” She shrugged. “Just maybe get outside and read more or something. Now strip.” Her smile widened at the same time I blanched.
A minute later, I stood in nothing but my underwear while she painted my body with a bronze self-tanner that appeared too dark and smelled oddly of coconuts, crayons, and dirt. I worried, despite her earlier assurance, she might turn me into an Oompa Loompa.
Much to my amazement, by the time Penelope appeared in front of me, my skin was an even shade of bronze I didn’t recognize, not orange at all.
“Ooh. Nice.” She ran a hand over my arm.
“That stuff works like magic,” I said in awe as I stared at my skin.
Penelope smirked. “First time using self-tanner?”
I nodded.
“Well, don’t get too attached to using Mags,” she said, motioning to the esthetician. “Thorne said that stuff she used costs two hundred bucks a tube and having her apply it is an extra fifty.”
I nearly choked on my own spit. “What?”
“Doesn’t quite compare to the drugstore stuff, but there are other ways to get a bit of a tan.”
