❝Assallam alay-❞
Holy chicken.
Hottie alert.
Does my veil look sexy?
The holy month of Ramadan; a month where Muslims are required to fast, abstain from sins, and connect spiritually with Allah.
It's also the month where Paulina Suarez--the pract...
a/n: On the bright side, we've got Ophelia on top. Please, vote, comment, and share :)
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———
"...But I'm not a model, Ophelia," I groan into my pillow as she tries to tug me out of my bed. It seems like it must be a sort of trend. You know. Considering Vanessa tends to do this too.
"You may not be one but you look like one," she tugs at my feet once again. I hold my headboard for dear life as I smother my face with my pillow in slight fatigue. "Come on Paulie. You know you wanna."
"I don't wanna," I turn my head back to roll my eyes at her. "Pleaseeeeee—"
She sighs. "Guess I'll just have to get another willing girl to pose with Damon."
My throat goes dry. "Sorry?"
Ophelia chuckles softly. "You sound like TPain."
I ignore her blatant jab at my voice. "What do you mean 'pose with Damon' Ophelia?"
She holds on to my feet but doesn't pull at them so it's progress. "Like there's this Islamic theme thing that I'm developing. I want to take a few shots and yeah, I wanted you to be my model for it since Damon already volunteered but I guess Venus would be a pretty good candidate..."
I give her a glare. "Stop manipulating my heartstrings."
"You have a heart?" she raises both eyebrows at me. I ignore her jab by raising one perfectly arched eyebrow. She pulls at my feet again, but this time, I'm certain it's because of jealousy.
"Venus can't model," I kick her palms away and gather energy to leave my bed. "I mean she looks like one but...she won't make a veil look sexy."
Ophelia laughs like I'm Kevin Hart in the flesh. "Oh, like you do?"
"Of course," I sigh and get myself in order. I glance at my organized closet. Yep. I'm going to rearrange it later.
———
A closet hurricane later and a makeup session from Ophelia herself, I'm standing in front of my mirror feeling like some kind of Arabian princess.
"Wow," Ophelia awes at my reflection, "I can make a Slytherin look like a Gryffindor."
I ignore her as I spin around. Dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans (courtesy of my closet), a sparkly gold top (courtesy of Ophelia), with a grey silver abaya (my closet, yet again) thrown over the get up along with a sparkly gold veil (Ophelia has to give me this for Sallah) and a pair of short silver heels (courtesy of Georgia's closet), I look like some kind of Egyptian goddess.
