Ineffable

54 | A TRIP BACK TO MEMORIES

She pulls her hand away from my grip and groans. "That's what I am afraid of. She is your grandmother! She probably would be very protective of you."

I scoff. "You will be surprised." I look at the mascara tube in her hand. "Are you going to put that?"

She sighs, looking at it. "Victoria told me how to put the mascara easily but it is not easy. At all."

"I can do it."

Bella narrows her eyes. "You can?"

I step closer to her and lean down to match to look straight into her eyes. She gulps and bites her lips but makes no move to step back. I almost smile at how much she trusts me.

I say, "Yeah, I can."

Before she can say anything, I lift her by her hips and make her sit on the table. She squeaks a little, holding my shoulders. Eyes wide, she gapes at me, as I stand between her legs.

"You—you just—" She stammers, making me grin. Lowering her hands, she pulls away from me a little and asks, "Why did you do that?"

I just simply reply, "Just wanted to keep our eyes at the same level."

But it's not. Her head reaches my eye level, instead of her eyes, and I realize how short she is actually. She can't more be more than five-four—fuck, I can literally hide her behind me. As if realizing the same, she shifts and straightens herself, trying to reach my eye level.

She can't. And I know that it shouldn't make me laugh but it does. I laugh, lightly, and she just gives me a flat glare.

"Just put on the thing," She pushes the tube towards my chest, pouting.

"Yeah." I bite the inside of my cheek and look at her. She still has straightened up her spin. "Relax, Bella. I can lean down."

Giving me a look, she relaxes. I remove the wand, after twisting it in the tube and removing the excess, and put the tube back on the table. Bella eyes the wand, before looking back at me.

Leaning down, I hook a finger under her chin and lift it to make her eyes meet mine. When they do, I stop for a moment—she does too.

"Just stay relaxed but still," I tell her, more like a whisper, and she nods. I lean down a little more and start to work on her curled eyelashes—which I am sure she did with her fingers.

Except for the lip balm, I know she doesn't always put on any other makeup but sometimes she does put the mascara, which is never perfect. I can only imagine her frustration in the morning when she puts it.

Her dark brown eyes are of a beautiful round shape, little angular on the edges. They seem so innocent at first but, fuck, when they have this little sparkle, they can kill you—slowly and torturously. And, right now, they have the same spark but with something more—something deeper.

After finishing the first, I start with the second eye, after repeating the same steps. I put my hand on her cheek, and she leans into the touch almost instinctively. My heart spikes up a beat.

After forever—just some long minutes, I complete it. Reluctantly, I pull away and put back the wand in the tube.

"Where did you learn to do that?" I hear her mutter.

"Amelia," I say, "She couldn't put it on her own. So, she always asked for my help. After two or three tries, I perfected it."

When I look back at Bella, I notice how her chest heaves with labored breathing—that tank top doing nothing to hide it. Cazzo. Her hair is almost out of the towel, making some strands fall onto her shoulder. I clamp down on my jaw, telling myself to breathe—Fucking breathe, Noah.