[completed] Nova Carter knows exactly what the next few years of her life will look like: she will work harder than anyone else (as she didn't get into New York University to slack off); she'll be keeping her head down and prioritizing getting her a...
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Chapter Sixteen | True Lovers
♫True Lovers by Holy Holy
I've never in my life sat on a friend's bedroom floor as she smeared lipgloss on my lips and lined my eyes with eyeliner. I've never been shopping with a group of girlfriends, either, trying on ridiculous sunglasses and having fries and burgers at the food court. I haven't talked to them as the night advanced, as it grew dark and cold outside but warm and cozy inside, giggling at nothing, fighting sleep.
Olivia is my first.
Maybe it's just the circumstances—us being roommates—or her bubbly personality, but as we sit on the carpet beside our beds as some pop song blasts from her speaker (which doubles as alarm clock, she never lets me forget as she's so proud of her purchase), I realize that this is it. This is my teenaged girl experience, something I thought expired when I graduated high school. I thought going to college meant entering womanhood, saying goodbye to experiences like this and hello to responsibility. I thought it was too late for me.
"Okay. Give me your arm," says Olivia, tossing the eyeliner back into her makeup chest.
"What for?" I stick out my arm and she grips it, pulling it into her lap.
"You have a different skintone than I do, so I need to see what lipstick shade I have that matches your complexion," she explains. "And, oh, it also needs to fit the dress. Duh, Olivia."
I almost forget how alone I felt earlier this afternoon at the nail salon, with the guy giving me weirded-out glances because I kept trembling and shocking and pulling back. I felt better after talking to my Mom for an hour or so, and when I got back Olivia immediately dropped everything to help me get ready. She even got me some lunch, but I'm still too nervous to eat, so she ate hers and mine both.
"Won't lipstick be a little too much?" I make sure I ask it cautiously, as I know Olivia to be the kind of girl to have a shade of red for every occasion—which, full disclaimer, isn't bad. I actually admire that about her. I just don't want to come across as disinterested and unwilling to put the effort in when in reality I don't know what I'm doing and everything feels like too much.
"Lipstick won't ever be too much, Nova. Trust me." Olivia leans forward, holding a lipstick to my lips.
I instinctively purse them a little and she layers it on smoothly.
"Go like this," she says, and then goes 'mwah mwah mwah' repeatedly, nodding as I follow her example. "You look beautiful!"
I feel myself blush and reach for the handheld mirror that's lying by her bed, raising it to my face.
I blink a few times.
And then a few times more.
I barely recognize the girl staring back at me. I've always kind of thought I looked too young. Maybe it's a reflection of how I've been treated my entire life, like I'm smaller than I am, which I can't really blame people for as inbalance is often tied to children, but now— this is different.
