Cupid Hates Me ✔

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

As I stood in front of the mirror, I couldn’t help but gape at my reflection. For once in my life, I felt…pretty.

Dark blue jeans clung to my legs, making them look long and shapely. I hadn’t worn jeans for five years. I had forgotten how comfortable they really were, even though they were four sizes too small for me. Penelope had insisted I buy tight-fitting ones to emphasize on my legs.

But while the jeans seemed to choke my stomach, the black and white top I was wearing was perfect for me. It had three-quarter sleeves and covered half my thighs, for which I was grateful (who wanted to see my big ass anyway?). A black belt with studded stones adorned my waist and simple black sandals covered my feet. The outfit was casual yet classy. All credit goes to Penelope though.

If you haven’t figured it out by now, I love black. I would’ve bought black jeans as well if Penelope hadn’t thrown me a murderous look at the shop.

Speaking of the devil…

“Damn,” she breathed, admiring her handiwork. “I could be a make-over artist or something…can I do your make-up?”

“No!” I exclaimed, covering my face. “You already tortured my face with all that plucking. I’m not gonna wear any make-up.”

Penelope looked horrified as she gasped. “No make-up?”

“No friggin way,” I said stubbornly. “Just some eyeliner, nothing else!”

She pouted, but that didn’t work on me. I just dabbed on eyeliner on my upper eyelids and smoothed down my top.

“Too bad we couldn’t iron your hair,” sighed Penelope. “That would’ve made you irresistible.”

“Oh, puhlease,” I said, as I rummaged through my closet for a purse. “Irresistible and me do not go together in the same sentence.”

I’m sure Penelope would’ve hit my head if she hadn’t spent so much time on it to make it less frizzy. Now my curls looked more natural and elegant around my shoulders.

“Say those self-depreciating things one more time Rebecca Smith, and I swear I’ll…mess up your hair,” she threatened unconvincingly. I rolled my eyes at her before finally locating a small, black purse in the depths of my closet.

Jake and I had agreed to meet at a café before we’d go to his friend’s house together. The café was a fifteen minute drive from my house. It was a huge, popular café, always bustling with activity. Colourful posters adorned the walls, a small stage where the local bands played was at the far end, and the rest was filled up with tables and chairs cluttered everywhere.

Penelope and I fought through the crowd and finally got a table at a corner. I gripped onto my cell phone and tapped my feet on the floor, looking around the café and trying to spot a certain black-haired, dark eyed, goateed boy…er…man.