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True to her word, Daisy uses a very light blush to color my cheeks and a pretty shade of pink lip gloss on my lips. She does go a little overboard on the eyes, though, but I actually don’t mind the smokey eyeshadow since it makes my silver eyes pop.
Like she forewarned, Daisy ends up using the tiny-ass miniskirt paired with a crop top that shows off her flat stomach. Like my mother, my sister’s long blonde hair is sleekly brushed back to perfection, making her look graceful even in skimpy clothes.
When I venture another look in the mirror, it pains me that I don’t see any resemblance to either my sister or mother.
All I see is my dad—my deadbeat father.
I have his light gray eyes.
His wild dark brown hair.
Even the cheekbones Daisy raved about when she was adding color to them are his.
But that’s where our similarities end.
His loud personality to live life by the edge of his seat was solely inherited by Daisy.
I’m more like Mom.
Reserved.
Private.
But while I always felt that my mom was sometimes too quiet for her own good, my self-imposed silence was due to not wanting people to know just how fucked up I truly am. How restless and angry I am all the time. I should chuck that irksome quality in the short list of things my sperm donor of a father gave me.
It’s one of life’s great mysteries on how my mom and dad ever got married and stayed together long enough for them to have me and Daisy. Maybe my dad thought he could change his rolling stone ways if he settled down with a good girl like my mom.
But people don’t change.
They are what they are, and no outside forces will ever change that.
And in my father’s case, he would rather sweet-talk a stranger half his age into his bed than remember to call his daughters on their birthday.
Yeah.
Mom picked a real loser with dear old Dad.
Luckily, I think she finally found a winner with Curt. He treats her like a queen. Always making sure she’s happy and feels loved. Doing small things like giving her a foot massage on the couch after a long day’s work, or surprising her with flowers and planning romantic date nights for her. His kind heart and affection doesn’t end there. It has trickled over to me and my sister too. He always has a kind word for me and Daisy, and tries his best to be present in our lives. He’s like Mom in that way, easy-tempered and level-headed. I have yet to hear him lose his shit with anyone.
And when I say anyone, I mean Noah.
Noah is always pushing his buttons.
Always trying to get a rise from him.
And although I have witnessed Curt being cross with his son, I have never seen him being mean just for the sake of it. All I see is sadness in his eyes when Noah rebels against him. What happened between them before we three came into the picture left some deep, ugly scars, and neither one is willing to let them go anytime soon.
“You look hot!” Daisy squeals after she finishes curling my hair into large, long waves.
“You look pretty, too,” I state with a meek smile, hating that my thoughts always end up on my in-house bully.
“Fuck pretty. Tell me I look like something you want to eat and devour.” She bats her eyelashes seductively at me.
“Ew. God, you’re gross,” I reply with a giggle. “How about you take it down a notch tonight?”
“No can do, lil’ sis. Life is too short for us to be anything but our authentic selves. I might be an acquired taste, but I’d rather be me than anyone else,” she says lightheartedly.
But her light features turn serious as she places her chin on my shoulder, hugging my stomach from behind and staring at our combined reflection in the mirror, her gaze locking with mine.
