We're The Back Pocket Believers (All Time Low Fan Fiction)

Chapter 20

“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 .