I nod in satisfaction while studying the way the red dress is clinging tightly to Dinah's body.
"Oh, hey." Dinah gives me a small smile as she turns around, still busy applying her make up.
I chuckle as I see several smears, which is obviously evidence of her trying to hurry up. "I'm going to church." She explains. "My mom called and I told her I was on my way already. I would invite you, but then we'd-"
"-it's okay." I surprise even myself. "You go."
All my life, there'd been days where I hadn't wanted to go to church. Even after the age of eighteen, my father still made me go to church every Sunday. But now... now I had a choice. I felt guilty, sure, but still. I'm my own person.
"You have a little." I motion towards my eye for her to get the idea, but I almost melt at the cute confused expression she's giving me. "You have any wet wipes?" I ask, and she nods, pulling a pack of wipes out of her bag. "Sit."
She obeys and sits down, her body language still showing that she's a bit restless, but she's listening nevertheless.
I take a wipe out of the pack and wipe the smeared eyeliner, leaning closer to get all the remains off.
I bite my lip, unable to contain myself from leaning even closer, and crouch a bit lower, grabbing the gloss Dinah had selected before opening it and spreading some across her lips, slowly.
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Looking into her eyes and then back down at her lips, I was unsure which of the two was able to hold my attention more.
But keeping myself "professional", I decided not to do anything that could damage our friendship.
"You look amazing." I breathe, and a blush spreads across her cheeks as her lips widen into a small, shy smile.
"Thanks. I had a great make up artist."
Being a pageant girl, having a very excited mother, and having two sisters, applying make up was like second nature to me.
"Of course you do." I agree, flipping my hair over my shoulder. "Now you should go, before you're even later, which means everyone will look at you." I speak from experience.
Whenever I was late, or just entering the church, the last couple of rows would just take it upon themselves to turn around and stare, and the rows before those would watch you as you walked by to your seats.
"Not that they wouldn't look at you, I mean, you look gorgeous." I feel my cheeks burn at my comment, but decide not to take it back in order to make things less awkward.
"Thank you."
"Yeah, no problem."
It didn't matter if I took it back or not, because the air between us was still awkward.
