When 20-year-old Fallon Lopez lays eyes on a man who's quite a few years older than her, she immediately feels an attraction toward the mysterious man.
She finds herself being drawn to him, feeling a spark grow between them and the tension grow thic...
"Remember not to get too close to stars, they're never gonna give you love like ours."
. . .
I've spent the whole day talking to Reed and Donia. I've ignored Nicholas like my life depended on it, and Stella was mostly on her phone or talking with Nicholas.
Their voices mingling together stung because it felt like he was forgetting me so easily. As easily as I wanted to forget him.
But as the evening nears, Donia and I are getting ourselves ready for the night.
Getting my make-up bag, I take a seat on the counter in the bathroom, in front of the mirror, and take a good look at my face.
I only apply some concealer, since I don't like the heavy feeling of foundation. I cover up all the spots that are bothering me, and even use some bronzer and blush, giving myself a cute and lively look.
After a lot of begging, Donia convinces me to put some gold eye-shadow on my lids since it complements my skin tone so well.
"Sit still!" Donia demands as she takes her eyeliner. I roll my eyes. "I'm trying!"
She grabs my face with two hands and I close my eyes, letting her draw a sharp wing – or at least make her attempt to do so.
"Sit still!" she grits out once again, and I pinch her thigh. "As I said; I'm trying."
After a lot of cursing and make-up wipes, she succeeds in drawing a good wing since my hands aren't steady enough for that.
And I lack the patience for it, as well.
"Finally," I sigh once she's done both of my wings, and I send her a grateful smile, before coating my eyelashes with mascara and deciding that I look good.
I then paint my lips a soft color and add gloss over them, smacking my lips together and loving the fullness of them.
"You're beautiful," Donia smiles as she looks at me. I send her a smile over my shoulder and feel... good.
"Thank you," I whisper, "I feel pretty."
"I'm proud of you," she grins and hugs me.
She looks stunning as well – deadly, even. Her hair is pin-straight and her lips are a bold red. Her eye-shadow is shimmering and her sharp cheekbones are accentuated with some high-light.
So are mine, and the tip of my nose.
I decided against straightening my hair, favoring my curls over it, and letting them fall down my back. I made sure that my baby hairs aren't bothering me and took care of them with some gel.
I pick out my clothes for tonight and smile in approval.
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