“It looks so pretty curled,” Livvy says as she lightly sprays the ends of my hair with hairspray. “You should curl it more often.”
“Takes too much time.” I’m sitting on a stool in the bathroom with my back to the mirror because Livvy doesn’t want me to see myself until she’s finished. I’ve never let a friend give me a makeover before and I can tell she loves every minute of it.
Me? I’m apprehensive about the date. Jordan texted me earlier about what time he made the reservation for and where—some fancy place I could never afford. I told him I’d meet him at the restaurant and he seemed okay with it. But it’s kind of weird how I’m hitching a ride with Ryan and Livvy.
When she starts layering on the makeup, I tell her not to put on too much. “I don’t want to look totally different.”
“I’ll just emphasize what you have.” She grabs hold of my chin and contemplates my face like a doctor. “You have really good skin and your eyes are beautiful.”
I roll those supposed beautiful eyes. “They’re brown and boring.”
“No, they’re not! They’re so dark. Full of mysterious depths.” Livvy giggles. “And you have great eyebrows. Can I pluck them?” She whips out a pair of tweezers and I dodge them when she waves them close to my face.
“Why? I thought they were great!”
“You need to clean them up a little bit.” When I shake my head, she mock pouts. “Come on, please? What I plan on doing will really make them pop.”
I glance at my phone to check the time. “It’s getting late.”
“Stop worrying. Just let me work my magic.” She grabs hold of my shoulders and gives me a little shake. “Trust me.”
My nod is reluctant and she gets to work, plucking my eyebrows with those tweezers like she’s wielding some sort of torturous device. I keep jerking every time she pulls out a tiny hair and she practically stabs me with the tweezers at least three times.
“Keep still!” she reprimands like she’s my mom. “And never forget these words—beauty is pain.”
“What?” That sounds crazy.
“I’m serious. My mom used to always say that to me. Beauty is pain, pain is beauty, it’s all the same. To look good, we have to make sacrifices. And sometimes, those sacrifices hurt.” Livvy smiles mysteriously. “It’s a small price to look your absolute best, but trust me, it’s worth it.”
“You keep telling me to trust you, but all you’re doing is hurting me,” I point out, hoping she’ll see the logic and stop with the tweezing already.
Liv rolls her eyes. “You are such a baby.”
Once she’s done with my hair and makeup, she grabs the dress she picked out for me to wear and I tug it on, nearly jumping out of my skin when she yells at me to watch out for my hair. It’s this cute black-and-white striped T-shirt dress I bought on a whim last spring when I found it on a clearance rack. I’ve never worn it, though. Dresses, skirts—they’re not my thing. I feel weird in them and a lot of the time they show too much leg because they’re always too short on me.
“He is going to die when he sees you,” Livvy breathes as she stares at me.
I tug at the fabric of the dress. “It’s too clingy.”
“It’s perfect. You’re so thin you can carry it off.” She shakes her head, but she’s beaming. “You look so amazing!”
“Oh my gosh, stop. You’re gushing.” I whirl around, my eyes widening when I catch myself in the mirror.
Livvy’s right. I do look pretty damn amazing, if I do say so myself. My hair has these sexy “beach waves,” as Livvy calls them, loose and touchable despite all the hairspray she used. My makeup is subtle, not too overdone, though my eyes are intensely dark. I like them. I’ll never be able to duplicate this look on my own, but I don’t care.
For one night, I’ll feel like a princess.
“What do you think?” Livvy practically squeals when I remain too quiet for too long. “Do you like it?”
“I like it.” I turn to smile at her. “I really do. Thank you.”
“So. Excited!” She tugs me into a hug then pushes me away, frowning. “Don’t want to mess up your hair.”
“When is Ryan getting here?” I ask nervously. Now I wish Jordan were picking me up. I’m both scared and excited to see his reaction to my new look. Will he like it? Or will he think I’m trying to be something I’m not? What about the dress? I take a step away from the mirror, trying to catch my legs in the reflection. They look like long, pale sticks, almost too skinny.
Ugh, I need to stop being so critical of myself.
“He’ll be here in about fifteen minutes,” Livvy reassures me.
I can’t stop staring at my reflection in the mirror. And the longer I look, the more nervous I get. Jordan might not like the new me. Or he might like it, I don’t know.
I hate feeling so unsure.
“What shoes are you going to wear?” Livvy asks.
“I brought some flat sandals.”
“You don’t think you should wear heels?”