Acting Out [Student/Teacher, GxG]

Closer to Heaven

"This is a really bad idea!" I yelled from the washroom as I curled my hair.

Brielle popped her head in, already changed into her black leather hotpants and a strappy shirt. "I go out with her all the time, you'll live."

"It's not the same." I pulled a stubborn strand of hair tight against the iron and accidentally tapped the hot metal rod against my neck, wincing slightly.

"Just stop overthinking it and you'll be fine. I've seen you drunk like, four times this past week alone and you haven't even done anything remotely embarrassing. It's tragic." Brielle waved her hand dismissively and walked away, disappearing somewhere in my apartment.

I looked in the mirror and studied my appearance critically. Thankfully all of the bruising from my fall had faded, and the ugly scratch on my forehead was now a tiny pink line that I could easily cover with foundation. Hopefully it would disappear eventually.

Brielle had done my eyeshadow, creating an intense golden smoky effect that, with the winged eyeliner I'd carefully applied on top, made my light eyes look icy and catlike. According to her, she was getting annoyed at how long I was taking, but I knew deep down she was trying to help me with my sudden lack of confidence.

My lips were glossed and pouty, still burning from whatever plumping serum Brielle had let me borrow. If I'd felt a little bit like her dress-up doll, the feeling was amplified tenfold when she strolled back into the washroom and sat down next to the sink, blocking my view of the mirror and holding out one of the sluttiest dresses I owned. "You're wearing this." She instructed, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

"When hell freezes over." I scoffed. "How come you can wear pants, but you want me in that." I pointed at the offending garment.

"I have no one to impress." She replied simply. "Put it on and if it's too much you can change."

"Fine." I grumbled. "Let me finish curling my hair."

"Atta girl." She draped the dress over the towel rack and walked away with a self-satisfied smirk.

When my hair was finally done, I slipped out of my robe and pulled the tight dress up over my hips, wiggling into the straps and tugging to straighten it out. I opened the door and made my way over to the full-length mirror by my closet, part of me afraid to even look.

I didn't actually wear black dresses that often, and the contrast between my pale skin and the deep material was striking. It was just as short as I remembered, and the top part looked almost like a bra, with straps cris-crossing down to my waist, leaving more than a little bit of my stomach exposed.

"You look hot." Brielle's voice came from somewhere behind me and I grabbed the closest jacket I could find to hide in. I pulled the fur coat over my chest in embarrassment. "And now you look like a pimp."

"It's vintage." I mumbled, earning a genuine laugh from the other woman.

"And they say actors are pretentious." She retorted. "Seriously though, that dress looks great on you. Stop being weird."

"I'm not being weird." I narrowed my eyes. "She's going to think I'm trying too hard."

"She's going to think you have a nice body." She rolled her eyes. "And that your eye makeup looks pretty."

I begrudgingly let the fur coat fall off of my shoulders and couldn't help the blush that spread over my cheeks. "It's cold."

"Hoes don't get cold."

"Did you just quote Cardi B at me?"

"Sometimes it's the only way to get the point across. Jackets are for pussies, Rowan."