Brielle Johnson wasn't made for early mornings, or the annoying buzzing sound of her alarm going off interrupting her dreams of her at the altar with whatever celebrity she fell for this week. She looked at her phone, seven-thirty, and silenced the sound cutting through the quiet of her dorm room with the swipe of her finger. The room was still dim, early morning light filtering through the half-closed blinds. Her roommate's bed was empty, Lia had an eight AM three days a week and always left before Brielle even thought about waking up.
She pushed herself upright, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The floor was cold under her bare feet as she stood and padded toward the bathroom. She flipped on the light, pulled her hair into a bun and turned on the shower.
After she took a warm, and maybe a bit too long shower, she stood in front of her mirror squinting at her reflection. She reached for her cleanser, the expensive one she'd bought at Sephora last month, and worked it into her skin in small circles. The girl at the counter had told her it was supposed to help with texture, whatever that meant. Brielle just liked the way it smelled, and the bottle it came in was cute. And well, Brielle loved cute things. She rinsed it off, patted her face dry with a towel, and started on the rest of her routine.
Toner first, dabbed onto a cotton pad and swept across her cheeks and forehead. Then the serum, the one the same girl had promised would make her skin glow. She wasn't sure if it was working yet, but she liked the ritual of it, the order, the way each step felt intentional. Moisturizer came next, then eye cream. She smoothed it under her eyes carefully, pressing it in with her ring finger the same way she showed her followers in her most recent TikTok.
When she was done, she brushed her teeth, gargled with mouthwash, and stepped back to look at herself again. Her skin looked better now, smoother, more awake. She turned off the light and walked back into the main room.
Her closet was organized by color, all her tops on one side, jeans, skirts and pants on the other. She ran her hands over the various textures, trying to decide on the perfect outfit for the day. The weather was chilly, October New England air taking away the last remnants of the summer. So she decided on a cream-colored knit top that hung off one shoulder and a pair of light-wash jeans that hugged her hips and thighs in a way that made her feel really good. She pulled them on, then stood in front of the full-length mirror near her desk, adjusting the neckline of the top until it sat the exact way she wanted it to.
Her curling iron was already plugged in on her desk, the red light glowing to show it was heating up. She sat down in her desk chair and sectioned her hair, clipping the top half up and starting with the bottom layers. She wrapped a piece around the barrel, held it for a few seconds, then released it into a loose wave. Her arms started to ache halfway through, but she kept going, working through each section until her entire head was done.
When she finished, she ran her fingers through the curls to loosen them, then sprayed everything with a light mist of hairspray. She waved her hand in front of her face to clear it, then checked her reflection again. Her hair looked good, the waves soft and loose.
Makeup was next. She started with primer, smoothing it over her face with her fingers. Then
she went through her entire routine with the precision she did every morning. Luckily this was the easy part, her monthly lash fills and brow tints made the entire routine a thousand times easier. All she needed was a little skin tint and some gloss and everything was perfect.
The outfit looked good. Her hair was shiny, the waves soft and loose. Her makeup was polished but not overdone. She grabbed her bag from the hook by the door, slipped on a pair of white sneakers, and reached for her favorite perfume, one of the many scents she loved by her favorite artist. Ariana Grande. She spritzed it on her wrists and neck, rubbing them together the way her mom had taught her.
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