Dark Mates

5: Fake

Dark Mates

5: Fake

“Alright, everyone,” Nikki said as she clasped her hands together and examined the room. It was the second day of our ‘undercover’ training, and I – as it was part of my role of being Rosalyn – had to wake up extra early (3, to be exact, seeing that I was terribly bad at figuring what brush to use to apply blush on my cheeks) to apply cake-y makeup on my face.

“Dahlia, in this mission, your name is Dahlianne Rosenberg, a shy faerie from Ande of Alfea,” Vikki said to the post-redhead.

Dahlia was dressed in a cashmere cardigan and a pair of jeans, and a pair of black Converse sneakers. Now, Dahlia is an extraordinary girl, with the right curves at the right places, and killer smile, with a naturally seductive nature, and painfully reminded me of Dana. But now, without the perfect makeup on, and without all those amazing sport bras and tank tops and skinny leggings on, she looked… extra ordinary.

Hey, and she looked a lot less slutty.

“Anson and Hugh, you guys are brothers – the Jackmans. Both of your names will remain the same, excluding your last names. Anson, you’re playing the role of a bookworm, and Hugh, you’re the playboy who plays the quarterback in your high school team. You’re both werewolves.”

Anson had completely changed, to say the least. He had gotten over his ‘punk, emo’ stage and now looked… different. His long black hair was now dyed into light brown, and was trimmed into a boyish cut, and I realized he actually had dimples. He had a pair of thick of glasses on, but he looked cute. Like, nerd-ish cute.

Hugh, on the other hand, looked like the ultimate player. If I hadn’t known better, the second that I’d lay my eyes on him, I would think ‘get away, get away’, because he looked like a major charmer and heartbreaker. He wore a tight-fitting black tee, and looked like a jerk.

“And Scott, your last name is Mosley, and you’re posing as a third-generation vampire who likes to work out, got bitten outside a club roughly 15 years ago, so your actual age is 35, and you have a soul mate – Rosalyn, AKA Rosea.” Nikki said, and I looked over to Scott, smiling awkwardly.

Scott was in a tight black singlet, matching his supposed role as being a gym-lover. His hair was tousled but he still looked good.

I, however, was the joke of them all. My makeup was heavy, icing my face as if it was a cake. I had to wear this ridiculously tight, V-neck shirt and miniskirt that barely covered my underwear – it was so thin that it could be used as a belt.

All in all, I looked like a whore. A very skanky, slutty whore that even I would hate.

Hm. I guess I hate myself.

“So you guys are soul mates, as I was saying,” Nikki said as she eyed both of us. “Kiss.”

My eyes widened as I stood there, flabbergasted. “Say what?” I spluttered.

“Both of you, kiss each other, on the lips. You guys need to act in love. Soul mates, remember?” Nikki said.

“I-”

I didn’t get the chance to finish my sentence, because the next thing I knew, Scott’s lips came connecting gently with mine, and the breath left my lungs.

===

My first kiss was when I was 16, with a boy named Graham, who had brown hair and green eyes.

It was our second date (the first was at the movies – classic move, I know) and we went to a fair, which was pretty nice, and we had cotton candy and all, and rode the Ferris wheel. It was nice, and sweet.