“OW !” I shrieked , as Paul yanked a wax strip off my leg . Don't ask me who Paul is . Alex hired him to give Sam , Charles , Pommie and I make-overs before the party . I'm going to kill Alex , if Paul doesn't kill me first .
“I know it is sore , darling” Paul said in his French accent . I'm pretty sure it was a fake French accent , as in the past half hour he had told me most of his life story , and he hadn't yet got to the part where he visited Paris . He had , however , been born in Morocco – which explained his smooth , tanned skin – and studied design for two years in England , then did an apprenticeship in San Francisco . When he was twenty-four he moved to Madrid , where he met Maria , the girl of his dreams . He called his designing business Maria's Wedding Dress , although they divorced after a year .
I know . I can't believe he hasn't been to France either .
Paul pulled another wax strip off my leg . “I'm never doing this again” I swore , “Ever ever ever ever ...”
“Ah , but your legs , they so smooth” Paul said .
“I don't give a -“ I restrained myself from taking out my pain on the poor stylist .
Paul patted me gently . “Almost done now , darling” He purred .
I grunted , making him chuckle softly .
Once that torture was over , Paul pulled me to my feet . He told me to wait there while he snatched up his iPad and started whizzing through photos . I longed to see what he was looking at , but didn't dare move from my spot . He might curl my eyelashes or something as a punishment .
Finally , he stopped the clicking . He stared at the screen for a second , then put the iPad face down on his desk . He moved towards me , and stared at me right in the eyes .
“Perfect” He purred , then moved away .
With all his make up stuff , Paul had brought these four portable cubicle things . He showed me into one , and handed me a dress in one of those black sack things .
“Put this on” He told me , “Then we do your hair and make up .”
I stripped , then looked at the dress . It looked hideous , to be honest . An ugly brown colour with shiny material . The neck dipped half-way down my chest , and it had an uneven cut where it was longer at the back than it was at the front . I hated it . But I put it on anyway .
There was no mirror in the cubicle , so I couldn't see how I looked .
“I'm ready !” I called out to Paul .
“Come out , darling !” He said back .
I stepped outside , feeling self-conscious . Paul barely glanced at me in the dress , just sat me down in front of him and began to work on the back of my hair .
“Lie your head back , and put this towel around your shoulders” He instructed . A minute later , I felt warm water washing over my hair .
I was confused . Wouldn't it make more sense to wash my hair before I put on the dress ?
Paul shampooed and conditioned my hair , then dried it with a fluffy towel until it was just damp .
“Now we style” He told me . He took up a hairbrush and hairdryer from his desk and began to wrap my hair around it . After almost twenty minutes , he was finally down , but still wouldn't let me see myself .
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We're The Back Pocket Believers (All Time Low Fan Fiction)
FanfictionHazel Reede was average. Actually, she was a little below that. She is fifteen when her family dies and leaves her broken hearted and completely alone. But it's when she's at her lowest point that she meets Alex Gaskarth, the lead singer of All Time...