13; it's fine
I looked behind me and at Dylan, who was comfortably cuddling my pillows on my bed. He was on his phone, watching a TV show in his grey hoodie and black sweatpants. His messy wavy black hair stuck out from underneath the hood that he had over his head, and his eyes were locked on the screen.
Occasionally, Dylan would crack up laughing when a funny part comes up; while most of the time, he would lay still on his side, and smiles at the screen.
"Why are you staring at me?" he jokingly teased, pausing his show and dropping his phone.
I pouted, "Can't look at my boyfriend?"
He grins and held his arms out, "Come here," he whines, "Give me a hug."
I walked over towards Dylan and plopped myself next to him on the bed. Dylan basically lives here now. He's met my parents, and they didn't really seem to be overprotective, or care too much about my relationship.
My parents allowed Dylan to come over whenever he wants, as long as he doesn't do one thing: impregnate me.
Dylan wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me in for a tight hug.
"One of the guys on the baseball team invited me to a party," he mumbled.
"When is it?" I turned my body around to face him.
"Tonight," he grins at me, "Want to come?"
I pursed my lips, "You know how I feel about parties."
"I know," he shrugs, "but I just thought that it would be fun for you to come with me."
"I thought you didn't like anyone on the baseball team," I asked, as I pushed myself up, leaning my weight on my left arm.
"Just Ryan," he chuckles.
"Who's party is it?" I asked curiously.
"It's a college party," he sends me a slightly awkward smile, knowing that my answer would be no.
I scrunch my nose at me and grinned, "No."
Just then, I felt his arm nudging me from behind.
"Please," he begs, "Come with me just this one time!"
I pressed my lips in a thin line and sat up on the bed, "I don't know Dylan, I didn't like the party I went to last time."
"What happened last time?" he asks, looking at me curiously.
I looked away and smiled in embarrassment, "I accidentally got drunk and passed out."
His eyes shot wide open and a grin appeared on his face, he was clearly amused.
"Wait!" he laughs, "You drink?"
"No no no," I quickly defended myself, "I got some fruit juice, or something. Turns out it was jungle juice and I had too much of it too quick. I don't drink, not voluntarily anyways."
He chuckles and taps his fingers on my thigh.
"Do you drink?" I asked him.
I was hoping for him to say no.
"Occasionally," he smiles, "I won't drink if you don't like me to. It's usually not that fun anyways."
I frowned and played with his fingers, "I mean," I paused, "I would only be afraid of you drinking and blacking out. It usually leads people to do things they regret or don't remember."
Dylan reaches his hand out towards my chin and tilted my head to match his eye height, "I won't drink, don't worry."
I smiled.
"So do you want to go?" he asks me again.
I scratched my head, unsure.
Maybe all of the times I've been in my room stressing about homework, I couldn't been out partying and having fun while being sober. Other people seem to have a lot of fun at parties, maybe I should give it a second chance.
Thinking back about the party that I went with Ryan and Leah, it was fun until I passed out.
"It's okay," he smiles at me reassuringly, "If you don't want to go, I'll stay home with you."
"Let's go," I grinned, "It might be fun!"
Dylan celebrated but bouncing in the bed, and pushing himself off.
Then I thought about how I felt the last party, I did not dress up the way I wanted to.
"Wait," I stopped him from celebrating, "Can we go shopping?"
His expression then softened up, "Of course we can."
I then grabbed my phone and immediately researching clothes that would fit a tall and thin girl.
Before the results filtered through, Dylan snatches my phone and looks at it before locking it and putting it into his pocket.
"You look good the way your are," he claims, "You're shaped just like a beautiful model. You're hot, okay?"
I furrowed my eyebrows at him.
"Trust me," Dylan smiles and cups my face.
---
"That looks really good on you," he grins from behind, looking at me in the mirror. I puckered my lips and observed my body top to bottom.
"I don't like it," I frowned, feeling my nonexistent chest, I turned around and felt my nonexistent bum.
Dylan chuckles at my reaction, "I think you look good!"
I sighed, staring in the mirror. I had on a cropped black one shoulder top, with a white mini skirt and white heeled boots. Dylan brought me a circle chain belt that hung from the top of my skirt, with the leftover length dangling. The outfit looked good, but I didn't feel good in it.
I just felt like I was ugly.
"I think you look beautiful," Dylan walks in front of me and holds my shoulders, "If you don't like it, we don't have to buy it. We have time."
I took a second look in the mirror.
"Okay," Dylan sighs, "Look in the mirror and tell me what you like about yourself in this outfit."
I pressed my lips together and started off with the top, "I like the top, it fits me. I don't have big, you know," I paused, "But my waist looks small?" I questionably stated.
Dylan nods and smiles.
I moved down to the skirt, "The skirt is kind of tight, my butt looks kind of small, but my legs look long," I mumbled.
All of a sudden, I looked at the mirror and checked out my back.
"It doesn't look that bad," I said quietly.
"Uh huh," Dylan grins.
"I look good!" I scrunched my nose and started to eye myself with confidence in the mirror.
Dylan grabs my shoulders and shakes me slightly, "I told you!"
We ended up buying my party outfit, and stopping by a smoothie place to pick up a drink. Dylan and I hung out on our little shopping date the whole afternoon until it was time to get ready for the party.
"I'll be back in an hour to pick you up," he winks at me from his drivers seat.
I smiled at him and leaned in, kissing his cheek.
As I got out of the car, he points at me, "Don't be late!"
"I won't," I grinned and skipped into my house.
Almost immediately, I kicked off my shoes, ran upstairs to my bedroom and straight into my bathroom. I did all the things necessary: wash my face, put on makeup, straightened my hair and threw on my outfit.
I stared at myself in the mirror for about a minute, making sure everything looked perfect on me.
Then I looked closer, and saw mascara, smeared under my eye.
"No," I groaned and grabbed a makeup wipe.
As I wiped, the more the mascara smeared. The more I wipe, the more that the foundation and eye makeup was wiped off of my face. Just then, my face was a mess. My lipstick was suddenly on my chin, my eyebrow was half missing, my mascara made my eyes looked like I had extreme dark circles.
I looked in the mirror, I look like a mess.
I took a few deep breaths. I'll just start all over, it's fine. I blinked the mascara out of my eye and all of a sudden teardrops were forming, I started getting angry, and sad.
I started crying.
"Juniper?" my dad's assistant, Joseph peaks into my bedroom. Joseph was basically our maid, he cleans up after us, prepares us food and babysits me when my parents are away; but my dad likes to call him our assistant. He wanted him to feel and sound more important than a "nanny" or a "maid".
I started balling my eyes out and ran towards the door Joseph was standing at, "I don't know why I'm crying! I need to get ready because Dylan's going to be here in about ten minutes and I messed up my makeup and now I look like this!"
This old man didn't know what to do. I could tell because he was stuttering and telling me that it will be okay. He even offered to help me wash my face.
"Okay," he points at me, "Wait here, I'll tell our neighbor Ms. Sandie to come here with her makeup stuff. Go wash your face."
I started sobbing again, in relief.
"Thankyou!" I called out to him as I went back into the bathroom.
"Dylan is here by the way!" Joseph calls back from downstairs.
Just then, Dylan walks in the room and looks around, confused.
"Honey, I thought you said you were going to be don-" he cuts off immediately as he sees my face.
He laughs amusingly, "Why are you crying?"
He seemed to be entertained by my rollercoaster of emotions.
Dylan puts his clothes on my bed and walks over with his arms wide open, "Why are you crying?" he asks again, his voice filled with baby talk.
"Because," I stuttered, "I tried to put on makeup and, and it looked good, but, but I smeared my mascara andicouldntgetititeojeofj," basically whatever I just said was inaudible because I started crying even more.
"Shh," Dylan laughs, "Okay, come."
He holds my hand and drags me to the sink, lighting pushing my head over the sink and washing my face with his own hands.
While I was sniffling, I pulled my hand back and held it in my hand as I was sobbing into his palms.
I could hear Dylan laughing his mind away, as he was washing my face.
Just then, Ms. Sandie bursts into my room with her briefcase filled with makeup, "Come Juniper," she sang as she welcomes herself to my bed.
Throughout the whole mental breakdown, and maybe twenty minutes of being late to the party, I started to feel good about myself again. Ms. Sandie was incredibly talented in cosmetology, and her career was the reason why she's happily rich and retired.
"How does it look dear?" she asks me, handing me a mirror.
I grinned happily, she even added a rhinestone underneath my eye for that extra cute "pop" as she would describe.
"I love it," I pouted happily.
Her eyes brightened up as she claps.
"Okay, you two better get going," Joseph points at the door, "It's a little late."
Joseph and Ms. Sandie laughs as I rushed to put on my boots.
Dylan grins and holds my hand as we quickly hurried ourselves to the driveway.
---
x apricitys