I grumbled in frustration as I smothered on a layer of bright crimson-red lipstick, while unavoidably smearing it on my cheek or accidentally getting it on my teeth. I had watched thousands of tutorials on applying lipstick; it's not as easy as it looks. All the women in the videos had the most perfect and plump lips. They made it look so simple. No smearing, no mess, nothing. It seemed so easy, but I had gotten ahead of myself.
In the end, I decided to just screw it and go without the lipstick. If I kept trying (and failing) I was going to end up late for my date.
I kept my makeup simple, just nude colors and my signature eyeliner that I had practiced and perfected ever since I began wearing it.
I honestly hated dressing up, but Patrick had promised me that this was the only formal date he was going to make me go to. He made a true promise that we were going to dress casual for dates after tonight.
I didn't have many nice clothes; mainly casual tops, shorts, and t-shirts. Mostly bummy clothes, if you will. I started to panic, my eyes scaling the closets and drawers for something- but then I remembered the black maxi dress Andy had bought me. I tried to remember where I had put the thing. It wasn't in any of my closets. I burst through the door, scrambling through everyone's closets. I wasn't sure why I was searching through the closets in bedrooms that weren't mine, but I was pretty panicked. At this point, it was almost time to leave and I was still wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants.
"What are you looking for?" Pete asked. He was leaning against the doorframe of his room, his eyes following the path of my pace.
"You remember that black dress Andy bought me as a get-well present? Well, I can't find it anywhere!"
Pete pressed his lips together in a thin line, nodded, then jabbed his thumb in the direction of the living room. "It's on the couch. Along with your guitar and shit." He winked and I thanked him before scooping up the dress, peeling off my ratty clothes that were probably several days old, rubbing on some deodorant, and stepping into the dress. It was a perfect fit, and framed my body, outlining all of my curves. It made me look like some kind of tall, elegant supermodel. The only problem was that it was strapless, revealing all the slits on my arms.
I could not go into a fancy restaurant like the one we were going to while exhibiting my scars for everyone to gape at. I dug through my closet, hoping to find something I could cover my arms with.
To my relief, I was able to come across a denim jacket that was long enough to conceal my arms and also went well with my dress.
I smiled, examining myself in the mirror. I was finally confident enough to say that I looked beautiful in my own way. My outfit was aesthetic, and I couldn't wait to show Patrick.
"Melanie?" I jumped in surprise at the sudden knock on the door.
"Don't fuck anything up," I muttered under my breath before opening the door.
Patrick's eyes boggled immediately at my appearance. I couldn't help but notice his eyes raking up and down my body, but I didn't mind. He opened his mouth, uttered a small nonhuman sound, like he wasn't sure what was right to say.
"Wow," he managed to blurt out. "You... you look really.... beautiful."
A smile possessed my lips. "Thanks, you look nice too." Patrick was dressed to the nines, with a tuxedo that I recognized from his Soul Punk era, a cobalt blue bow tie, and I couldn't help but notice a rose tucked in his pocket. His hair was brushed back a little, just the slightest bit messy, but I couldn't lie- he looked absolutely adorable.
"Well," he sighed, a smile plastered on his face, "Are you all ready to go?" I nodded and reached for his hand. He interlocked it with his and helped me out to the car.
