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.
I look...
Strange.
I look good, though.
I am so not used to me looking like this.
My skin has always been very clear, because I wash it faithfully with soap every night and then moisturise.
For some reason my grandfather buys me moisturiser.
I think it's because my grandmother used it and he thinks all women require it.
I always found it a bit embarrassing to discuss my cleanliness needs with my grandfather, and it was hard enough when I had to talk to him about buying my feminine hygiene products when I went through puberty.
In fact, I wussed out on that and used one of the semi-senile women from the church to do it for me.
So, yeah, I have nice skin. But...
It looks nicer now.
I can't imagine wearing this every day but, then again, it's not like I'm going to.
"Ok, hair."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, come on, I'll do something really simple."
So she does: she straightens it. The straightening iron kind of scares me, such heat so close to my skin. I'm worried she's going to burn my ears, but she's very careful.
"Ta-da! Finished!"
She turns me around and I look into the mirror.
I look like a completely different person. I'm not me.
She's holding my shoulders from behind, and she's so close to me. We're both looking at me in the mirror and if I had any guts at all I'd spin in her arms and tell her exactly how I feel.
Which would result in the sudden but complete termination of our friendship and the complete isolation of Jisoo once again.
I'm not down with that.
So instead I just smile in the mirror and say, "I look different."
"You look fantastic."
I turn my head slightly. "Are you suggesting that I look terrible normally?"
She takes a step back and folds her arms. "No, I'm saying that nature can always be enhanced but when you compare your natural self with everybody else's natural self you come out roses either way." She cocks her head to one side. "You're not exactly ugly, Kim."
I blush.
"Thanks." After a few seconds I smile again. "You're too smooth for your own good you know. 'Compare my natural self'? I mean, really!"
She laughs. "It's true. You do all right, seriously. I just thought this would be fun."
"It is fun," I agree. "And, now it's my turn."
"Huh?" She looks confused.
"Well, you just got to make me over, so now I get to do you."
"Uh, okay..." There's definitely a wary expression on her face. "You want to do my make-up?"
"Kind of." I grin. "First, I gotta wash this stuff off."
"No, leave it... till we go to sleep."
I bite my lip, and then realise that I might be hurting my lip gloss so I let it go.
I get to look through Jennie's closet which is huge and absolutely full. I have no idea how someone can own so many clothes. Eventually, I find roughly what I'm looking for.
I bring them out to her and she raises an eyebrow.
"This is what you want me to wear?"
I nod.
"Okaaaay."
"You said you would," I admonish her. I probably could have taken advantage of that and found her bikini but that might have been a bit too obvious.
She puts on the clothes I've picked.
When she's finished, she looks at me.
She's wearing jeans. They're blue, but they're tight low-riders. I knew her ass would look great in them. She's also wearing a red-and-black-striped tee, with a red shirt-like collar and an uneven, torn waistline. And a black hoodie over the top.
I walk up to her and pull the bottom of the hoodie together, zipping it up just slightly.
Ok, so it's casual, super casual. But Jennie practically always dresses to the nines and I wanted to know what she'd look like if she just dressed with minimal effort.
She looks fucking amazing.
I take her into the bathroom to 'do' her makeup.
First, I take a clean wipe and gently lift it to her face. She looks at me with strange eyes.
Lifting her face by her chin, I look straight into her beautiful chocolate brown orbs. She's so incredibly gorgeous. I haven't touched her much, and it's sending little happy signals down my arm.
With the wipe, I carefully remove all traces of her makeup. It takes a few wipes, but eventually she's completely au natural.
Then I undo her ponytail and let her curls fall around her shoulders with no hindrance.
She's completely un-done.
And God, is it amazing!
I mean, Jennie looks good when she makes an effort, but Jennie just as Jennie is breathtaking. I can see, immediately, why I fell in love with her.
"Uh, are you gonna do my make-up?" she asks curiously.
I take a step back, smile shyly, and shake my head. "Nope."
"Er, this kind of defeats the purpose of 'make over'."
I shake my head again. "Not really. I made you look different."
"I must look terrible."
Oh, how wrong she is! "No, you look nice, actually. You always put in all this effort and I wanted to see what you look like when you – I dunno – just wake up."
"I rarely sleep in jeans and a hoodie," she replies drily.
"Well, I like you like this, casual," I grin.
I'm leaning back against the counter in her bathroom looking at her and trying not to stop breathing.
She's staring at me, and she must be, oh, half a foot away.
And then I do something that comes from nowhere. I don't feel my hand move, I don't even feel my arm move. My fingers are tucking a curl of hers behind her ear before I'm even aware of my own actions.
And I hear her sharp intake of breath.
She looks at me and I look at her. I see her eyes drift to my lips and suddenly I realise that it's less than half a foot and she knows it too. We're so close.
She has that look. Even I know that look.
She's going to kiss me.
I want it so badly my teeth ache. I can see her confused eyes looking at my face and all of this is happening in sleeting instances of time that probably add up to very little in the real world, but in this world, it's forever.
She leans forward, almost imperceptibly.
I can almost, just almost, imagine her soft lips on mine.
I can almost, just almost, imagine her moan.
My breath picks up, also imperceptibly.
She leans just a little closer. A fraction.
And then the door bangs open.
"Ok, I've looked everywhere and it's not fucking there. I know you took it and hid it, so where the fuck is it, Jen?"
Kyla is standing in the doorway with the most murderous look on her face. Jennie had stepped back from me so fast that there was no way that her sister, completely entranced in her own little world of anger, had noticed anything unusual.
"Kyla, fuck off!"
"Where is my Kelly Clarkson CD?" Kyla growls loudly, something I'd previously thought impossible. "You took my Kelly Clarkson CD!" She yells that. Like we hadn't already heard her.
"I didn't!" Jennie yells back.
"I did!" Hyorin yells up the stairs cheerfully. "I borrowed it while I was making the flan the other day, Kyla."
There is a length of silence.
"Oh," Kyla says, the wind taken completely out of her sails. "What the hell are you two doing?"
"Make over," Jennie growls, moving to push her sister out of the bathroom.
"You missed a spot," Kyla says. "Like your whole face."
Given that she just accused Jennie of theft and was proven completely wrong, I find it interesting that she'd be so mean to her, but apparently that's just the two of them.
When she's been shoved out of the door, Jennie turns and throws her hands in the air.
"Sorry, she's a douche bag."
I laugh. "Do you two ever get along?"
"Yeah, sure, for about an hour on Christmas."
I laugh again. Then I check my watch. It's getting pretty late. I'm not used to staying up past ten and it's a half-hour after that now.
I yawn. "Jen, I might have to head to bed."
She nods.
I'm not that tired. I'm just completely upside-down from everything that's happened today. It might not seem like much, but I'm a girl who lives in a world of nothing most of the time. If you live on a flat pond, even the slightest breeze feels like a hurricane.
Jennie is my hurricane.
I swear to god she was going to kiss me.
There was a moment, just that moment, that I was sure.
But that moment has passed.
And it's never going to come back.
* *©clomle44* *