Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“I don’t want to cut his eyes out or kill him.” Mac’s brows rise. “Yet.” She smirks.
“He’s piqued your interest.” She nods and still smirks. “See, that math works in my head. When you get interested or caught up in something, it can consume you.”
“I can be obsessive. I’ll admit that.” I glance down, not wanting to admit the next part. “I want to see if I get hit on.”
“Are you fucking with me?”
“No, I’m going to go and smile at people. Dance.” I nod adamantly, making me think I might be trying to convince myself too that this is a good idea. “I might even wink.” I have no clue what I’m getting myself into, but I know I have to do this. I need to see and pay attention to how men react to me when I’m not glaring at them.
“You are a beautiful dancer.” I took ballet for many years. It teaches you to control every part of your body. You use muscles that you may not even realize exist until they start to ache the next morning. “With the dress you brought and heels, I can promise you that you will be.” Mac hops down. “But I know you, and you’ve got ideas floating around in that interesting head of yours. I can talk to you till I’m blue in the face, but you’ll want to see it for yourself.” I both love and hate that Mac knows me so well.
“So we’re going out?”
“Yes, we’re going out.” A thrill courses through me. “Let’s get ready.” Mac pulls me to her room at the warehouse. All of us that are adults have them here. I don’t crash here often, if ever.
I know people think I’m not a social person, but I find comfort in knowing people are around. Even if it’s my annoying brothers running up and down the hallways at home.
The first thing she does is free my hair from the tie I had it pulled back in. She grabs a water bottle and starts spraying my curls to bring them back to life. It doesn’t take much.
I let Mac do her thing. Nix loves to play with my hair and put makeup on me, but I swear when she’s done, I look like one of those beauty pageant girls. Not that there’s anything wrong with that; it’s just not my thing. Mac is more sensible with my makeup. I would never admit that to Nix because it would devastate her. See, I have empathy and compassion.
“Will you do those wing things on my eyes?”
“Really?” A giant smile takes over her face, making both her dimples appear.
“Yes, I enjoy the way Bonte does her makeup.”
“She has great style.” Mac pauses, pulling back the mascara in her hand. “Have you ever thought about what your style is? Those buttoned shirts and black pants aren’t considered a style either.”
“They are functional.”
“I get that, but that’s not what I asked.”
“I can appreciate when I see things. Like I said, I enjoy what Bonte wears.”
“I love the way you word shit.” She goes back to doing my makeup. “We should go on a shopping trip.”
“That might be nice.”
“Should we do it before we go wedding dress shopping or after?” I know she’s teasing, but now my mind is wondering what kind of wedding dress I would want to wear.
“It could be one of those quick weddings you do in an office.”
“Right,” Mac laughs.
“What’s so funny?” A proper wedding should be between two people in love. This will be transactional.
“Aunt Tova.”
“You think she wants a wedding?”
“I do, and you know it too.” She shrugs. We both also know my mom would never push such a thing, but Mac is right.
Mom would want a wedding. This is something I need to think about. Would there be any real harm if I had a wedding if only to make my mom happy? She doesn’t ask for anything, and it always warms me when I see her happy.
“I’m going to do a matte lip stain on your lips. It’s a deep plum that will complement your hair and complexion.” She does a chef’s kiss. “It’s also called Bad Little Thing.” I part my lips as Nix has taught me to do on the occasions that she talked me into one of her many makeovers. I don’t put up a ton of resistance. All I have to do is sit there.
When Mac is done, she starts doing her own hair and makeup. She has her mom’s red hair. Mac has more waves to her hair than curls. She too has an interesting style, being that you never know what she might show up wearing.
One day she’s in sweats, and the next, a dress. She told me once that she dresses for her mood. That’s an intriguing concept. My clothes are rather boring. When I was little, it was a lot of pink, bows, and tulle. Once I was old enough to ditch it, I would steal my brother’s clothes and pick things that fit and weren’t itchy or annoyingly in my way.