Precious Things || Jensoo

Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I should have known what Jennie was going to do something like this.

I also should have known that my protests to the contrary would fall on deaf ears. I should have known.

So this is how I ended up being 'made over'.

If I'm not leaving the house, I can't really argue over her wanting me to try on some different outfits. But I'm damn well not leaving her room.

Especially since she's going to do my make up in a little while.

Make-up!

I think the last time I had it on my face I was four and I'd gotten into my mother's supplies. I know I looked like a clown then; I hope I look a little better now. I have to say I'm not a huge fan of the stuff as it stands. I think most people look better naturally.

Jennie does her make up really well though. She never looks like a cheap tart, and her eyeliner always makes me quiver a little.

I wonder what her lip gloss tastes like.

I really have to stop wondering that.

I'm standing in front of the mirror with a short denim skirt on. It has weird fluffy seams on the outside that criss-cross it. I'll admit it looks good. I'm just not used to my legs showing like this.

Or the fact that my arms are bare. My shoulders are bare, too. I'm wearing a white-frilled spaghetti-strap tank top that has little pink beads sewn into the neckline. A neckline that's a tad more plunging than my average wear.

At least it covers my stomach; although, if I lift my arms too high, I show some skin.

"Wow... You look.... Wow..." Jennie says, making me turn around. "You totally need to wear short skirts more often."

"Jennie, I refuse to give my grandfather a heart attack. Or an excuse to ground me for life."

She chuckles.

"Okay, we've found the right outfit. Now, for the make up."

I groan.

"Oh come on, you look fantastic!"

Catching myself in the mirror, I turn to look. I do look good. It certainly suits me more than my normal ankle-length heavy skirt and white neck-high blouse. I turn again and smile.

"See, told you so," Jennie grins. "Come on, hair and make up."

"Hair?"

"Uh, hair is like the ultimate thing to do. It's... the most important part."

"Oh."

She does a good job on my make-up.

Mostly though, I slow her down by giggling or blinking. It tickles when she puts stuff on. And it's damn distracting when she leans so close I can feel her breath on my lips. As she very carefully applies blusher to my cheeks, I watch her face, concentrating, and wish to God I could just lean forward and kiss her.

My heart is thumping because she's touching me. She's touching my face, holding my chin still while she applies the necessary powder or whatever it is, and she's so damn close.

She makes me ache.

I get mascara in my eye, and that makes us giggle as she gets it out. I protest most fervently at the lipstick, because she picks bright red. I only win the argument in the sense that she uses a pink lip gloss instead, but I still have to wear something.

She leans back.

"Right, done." Regarding her handiwork she nods. "Check it out."

I turn around and look in her bathroom mirror.