I sink into her pink fluffy chair, letting her work her magic as I close my eyes. Music hums from her speaker, and for the first time, I notice the playlist is made up of slow, angsty heartbreak songs.
“Hey, what’s with the moody music?” I crack one eye open, catching her scowl.
“You just messed up your eyeshadow! Close your eyes.”
I do, but I wait for her to answer. After a pause, she does. “It’s nothing—just feeling a little tense today.”
I don’t believe her. Something in her voice betrays the lie. “You sure about that?”
“Yep!” she says, her voice full of false cheeriness.
Got it, not in the mood to talk. I leave it alone. I want to push, but I have my own secrets. I can’t fault her for keeping hers.
I let her finish in peace, being a good mannequin so as to not mess her up any further. I’m not bad at hair and makeup, but she’s just so much better. When she tells me to open my eyes, my reflection in the mirror causes me to still.
I barely recognize myself. I look…stunning. Smoky shadow darkens my eyes, the liner sharp and precise. Rosy lipstick is the perfect compliment, softening the look. My cheekbones stand out thanks to her expertly blended contour. My curls are piled atop my head, twisted into an updo, but a few stray pieces curl down around my face, framing it perfectly. I look regal and sophisticated. Beautiful.
“You work magic.” I say, mystified. Makeup is an art, one that she’s mastered. “Have I told you I love you lately?”
She laughs, tossing her brush onto the vanity. “You can never say it enough.”
A glance at the clock sends a jolt through me. I need to go. Pulling up the address again, I triple-check the time my GPS shows me arriving, and say my goodbyes.
“I’ll be back after, no idea when. What time will you be home?”
“Probably around midnight, but I’ll leave the key in case you beat me back.”
“You’re the best.” I say, giving her a side hug, careful not to wrinkle my dress. She’s going out with some guy from the basketball team, one that I’ve only seen in passing. He invited her out to a show tonight, and while usually she’d turn down a date like this, she said yes. Good for her.
We say our goodbyes and I slip into my car, heart hammering in my chest. The drive stretches out before me, city lights blurring in the distance. The closer I get, the heavier my chest feels, like something is pressing down on it. My fingers clench tight on the steering wheel.
My anxiety rears its ugly head, and I debate turning around,heading back to Sal’s. Retreating to the safety and comfort of a place I know. But I won’t let myself. I won’t hold myself back.
Iwillbe confident.
18
SOPHIE
The gallery sure is “swanky”, as Sal called it. A storefront property, with huge floor to ceiling windows, dramatic lighting, and a weathered brick facade. The door is framed with antique wood, giving it a rustic feel, though somehow still upscale. I’m going to stand out like a sore thumb. Finding a parking spot is a struggle, and I end up three blocks away. Wonderful.
Grabbing the small clutch Sal loaned me, I climb out of the car and double-check that the doors are locked. The streets are alive tonight, beautiful people milling about and spilling out of the bars and clubs lining the streets. I keep my eyes open, laser focused on my surroundings. I’m not used to the city, especially being here alone and at night. It’s a nice area, but as a young woman, you can never be too careful.
When I enter the expansive gallery, my breath catches in my throat. Gray concrete floors contrast the stark white walls. The high ceiling is crossed by wooden planks, interspersed by soft dome lights. The walls are lined with huge canvases and colors galore. It nearly takes my breath away.
Small cocktail tables line the middle of the room, people asbeautiful as the art clustered around them are making their way along the walls, admiring the paintings. Large cutouts to either side show glimpses of additional rooms beyond. I’m awe-struck, standing still in the entryway, taking it all in. Digesting all there is to see.
I finally swallow back my amazement and begin searching faces, looking forhim.I can’t find him in the crowd, though. So instead, I make my way to the bar to the right of the door, and order a strawberry mocktail. I need something in my hands… something to do to help me feel a bit less out of place.
I begin rounding the room, stopping at each painting. Grateful for a place to direct my attention, as I don’t know a soul in the place. I wish I’d brought Sal along, after all. People nod politely at me as they pass. Women are dressed to the nines in gorgeous gowns, men in suits tailored to perfection. The scent of lavender fills the air and it’s heavenly.
I feel a presence at my back, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling. I resist the urge to turn, keeping my gaze focused on the splashes of red and purple that evoke feelings of rage from me. But then he speaks.
“Sophie.”
It’s him.
I don’t turn, afraid to show him my flushed face.
