Please Me

Fifteen: Proposition

I think it's safe to say that I've never written this much in one day before...

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"Ow!" I whimper as Brooke pricks me for the 6th time with a bobby-pin. 

"Shut up. Beauty is pain!" she snaps back while forcefully shoving the bobby-pain into my hair. 

"Ow!" I only yell once more. "Remind me to never ask you for help again."

After hanging up the phone--Brooke didn't lie. She was actually at my house in five minutes. She asked my brother for our address so she could help me get ready during the break. 

And trust me--if I knew how passionate and obsessive she is about this type of thing--I wouldn't have asked her for help. 

After doing the last finishing touches on my make-up and vigorously coating my hair with hairspray, Brooke steps back and is finally done.

"A masterpiece...I have created a masterpiece," She swoons over her own "art work", aka me. 

"Don't you think this is too much?" I ask as I stand up from the chair while playing with my hair.

Brooke slaps my hand away from my head, and I curse. "What the hell?"

"Don't touch," she scolds. "And no, it isn't too much. You showed me the address of the place you're going and trust me, it's very...upscaled."

Crap. I'm horrible when it comes to fancy things. 

I straighten out my dress and adjust it so that it's more comfortable on me. I hate dresses, and especially tight fitted ones. The dress Brooke picked out for me is a tight, red, short, lonsleeved dress with a v-cut that barley stops just below my breast bone. Sure I've worn things like this before. It was in my closet after all. My mom makes me keep dresses like these for "special occasions". Doesn't mean I like wearing them though. 

My hair was fixed into a nice updo, and my make-up was packed on heavy including red lipstick to match my dress. I looked good, I'm not gonna lie. But there's a difference between fancy and skanky. 

"Are you really not gonna tell me who you're date is?" Brooke questions me yet again. 

I shrug my shoulders. "It's--It's just a guy from school," I respond. "It's not like you're gonna know who it is anyways." 

Pfft. Well, at least you were right about him being from your school.

"Crap. What time is it?" I ask her frantically. 

She checks her phone. "6:49," she answers. "Aren't you supposed to be there at 7:00?"

I groan. "Yes! I gotta go." 

I grab my phone and purse as I sloppily put on my heels as I try to get out the door all at the same time. 

"Bye! Good luck," Brooke wishes me. I wave bye to her.

Yes...good luck indeed. 

---

My heels click against the pavement as I walk down the sidewalk to the destined address. My feet already hurt in these damned shoes.  

The place I'm going to should be around here somewhere according to my GPS and Brookes directions. This just proves how little I've actually explored around Chicago since I've moved here. I have no idea where I am. 

I walk for a little bit longer, honestly considering just giving up and going home to binge eat an entire pizza by myself. But finally, I'm greeted with my destination.