Anti-Agreste [ adrienette ]

chapter fourteen

"Alright. Stay here, okay, hon? I'll go get my stuff," Chloe suggested, though it felt like an order. Her piercing gaze was the one that made me follow against my will. She opened the door and sashayed out of my dressing room to God knows where, leaving me sitting on the make up chair, dazed and confused.

When the door clicked close, I slumped into my chair and felt weak. Physically, emotionally, mentally weak. Series of questions flowed inside my brain, and I couldn't help thinking them.

Why the heck is Chloe here?

What's up with Chloe and Nath? Did they have some sort of history together? If so, why wasn't it exposed to the public? Usually, celebrity relationships instantly become an issue after a few weeks!

Does Adrien really has amnesia?

The last question raised a million more, which made my heart and head ache. No one even bothered to tell me before. When and how did he get it? I placed both of my hands on my head and let out a silent scream, because my goodness, this is too overwhelming. And morning hasn't even ended yet.

"Could this day get any worse?" I groaned and leaned on the make-up table. I shrieked when I saw Chloe standing beside me, arms crossed. "Chloe! How long have you been standing there? You scared the crap out of me!"

She ignores me and waved her hand back and forth, gesturing me to lean away from the table. "Shoo."

The way she did it was annoying, but I followed anyway. I adjusted myself to feel comfortable, despite the fact that my high school enemy was sitting with legs crossed on top of my make-up table in front of me. Her eyes were as cold as ice, but as pretty as snow, which captivates most guys. But I noticed that the more you look into it, you'll see sadness hidden deep inside.

As she began to zip open a beige colored pouch, I shifted in my seat. Being alone in a room with her made me feel uneasy. I still had a lot of questions about her, but I don't think she'll acknowledge them, even listen to them. She probably wouldn't even let me speak.

Rummaging through her beige pouch, she spoke, stealing glances every second, "Mari, you haven't changed at all! You still look like a . . . a child."

Is that a compliment or an insult? I couldn't tell. Could be a compliment because we're already basically adults, and looking young is definitely a good feature. But looking too young—to the point of looking like a child—is most probably an insult.

Well, that's Chloe, so it's most probably an insult.

"Thanks," I awkwardly said. Thanks? Really?

Chloe takes out an expensive bottle of foundation and places it next to my face, then studies me. "Hm. Not your shade."

I stayed there in silence as she took out a rather big pink pouch, then starts to search for something inside. Probably another foundation that matches my shade.

"Hey, Chloe?" I finally managed to say. I played with my fingers as I waited for her to reply.

"Yes, hon?" She continues to search for make-up in her bag, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "Where the hell is it?"

"Uh," I muttered, "Since when were you a make-up artist?"

There was a long pause before she takes out something from the bag, raising it up with a smile of victory. "Aha!" she exclaimed while looking at the bottle of foundation, then looks at me and flips her blonde hair over her shoulder. "I'm not a make-up artist."

My breath hitched. She's not a make-up artist? Then why the fuuuuuck is she here? It wasn't long when I had come to a conclusion that she really was here to ruin my life. What else would she do except that? Showing up without any warning in my dressing room? Definitely up for something.