I wasn’t so sure I was in good hands, but I knew, at this point, there was no reason to argue with her. She had me cornered in the bathroom, my head wet with dye, so I might as well sit still and let her act like I was some doll she could practice on.
As I tried not to wince as she went to work on my face, I muttered, “Why are you doing this?”
Michelle hummed out, “You’ll see.”
You’ll see. What the hell did that mean? I really hoped she didn’t think I had any dates planned for tonight. She knew I wasn’t seeing Calum, but I hadn’t told her that I’d broken things off with Mason, too. Then again, I never even yelled at her for texting Mason and making him come over last night.
I just…I just want to move on, not think about it. Was that so bad?
After my eyebrows, it was time to bend over the tub and rinse my hair in cool water. Michelle bent over the tub, running her fingers through my hair as she worked the color out until the water ran clear. She grabbed a towel and helped me up, rubbing it along my messy hair before brushing it and drying it yet again. She did not, however, let me stand in front of the mirror.
Did I look that bad?
I stayed quiet, biting the inside of my cheek as I let her do whatever else it was she wanted to do to me. Once my hair was dry, she straightened it. No outrageous curls tonight, I guess, which was a good thing. I wasn’t sure I could handle a curly head on my own. My natural hair was kinky, but not straight-up curly.
Once my hair was done, Michelle grabbed my wrist and tugged me out of the bathroom and across the hall, into my room. She sat me down on my bed as she started going through my closet. It wasn’t too long before she pulled out a pair of leggings I wore more often than not and an oversized beige sweater.
“Put these on,” she said, a command I could not deny. Mostly because I wanted this, whatever the hell it was, to be over with, and going along with her was just the easiest way. Michelle turned her back to me, but she didn’t leave the room.
I took off the somewhat smelly clothes I wore and changed into the outfit she’d picked out. Not sure what she was doing now—if she wanted me to look like a Barbie doll, she kind of missed the mark. When she dolled me up for that blind date with Calum, I’d hardly looked like myself.
“Sit,” she said, gesturing to my bed once I was done, and I did so, running my palms on my leggings, wondering just what the hell this was about.
Michelle disappeared for only a few moments, retrieving a small makeup bag. She did not plaster my face with makeup as she did before; this time she only focused on my eyes—hiding the black circles beneath and lining them with waterproof eyeliner. Then mascara. No eyeshadow, no blending and contouring. At least she’d learned how to take a step back.
With my makeup done, she went to get my shoes. My normal black Vans. “Here,” Michelle said, “put these on, then go look in the mirror.”
I let out a huff. “Why?”
“Just do it.” Her tone told me she wasn’t going to take any shit from me, so I heaved a sigh and did as she said.
I slipped my shoes on, then moved to stand before the mirror on top of my dresser. When my eyes met the bright-eyed reflection staring back at me, my breath caught in my lungs. I looked…I looked good, with my hair newly-dyed and just the barest hints of makeup on my face. The concealer covered up any sign of tiredness on my face, and the black around my eyes made the green pop, along with my eyelashes look a hell of a lot longer than they normally were.
But, beyond that, I looked liked myself, if only a little extra done. I didn’t wear overly fancy clothes; my face wasn’t hidden behind two layers of makeup. I didn’t look like I was Instagram worthy, but I looked like me.
And, what was even weirder than that, was the thought I had—just for a split-second—as I met my reflection: I didn’t look bad.
I would never go so far as to say I looked pretty or anything, but…I guess, occasionally, I cleaned up okay.
I must’ve stared at myself for a while, because I didn’t notice that Michelle had left my room. Mom and Dad were still at work, so the house was quiet…until my sister stood beside me, her reflection checking mine out. She swung a set of keys in her hands. Mine?
What the hell did she think she was doing with my car? Granted, it was an old thing that Mom and Dad had bought me when I went to SCC, but still.
“Ready to go?” Michelle asked, and I had no idea what she was talking about. We were going somewhere? Where? Why? A thousand questions rang in my head, but I found I could ask none of them as she hooked her arm through mine and forced me along with her.
Down the steps we went, out the front door, to my car. Michelle got in the driver’s seat, which led me to sit in the passenger’s side, totally confused as to what was going on. Once she turned the engine on, she flipped through my radio as she buckled her seatbelt.
“Man,” she whined, “you got nothing good in here, huh?”
Finally, I found my voice, “What’s going on?”
She gave me a smile I did not fall for, saying, “You’ll see.”
I sighed. “Michelle, the last thing I want to do is go out tonight. I…I’m not seeing Mason anymore, either. I just—I just want to sit at home, okay? I don’t want to go out and do anything.” My hair looked good, but I would never give Michelle the satisfaction of knowing I liked her handiwork.
My little sister let out a chuckle. “Oh, you have no idea what’s about to happen, do you?” Michelle shot me a look, a small smile, as if she knew something I didn’t.
I might not know a lot of things, but I did know being kept in the dark on purpose was not something I appreciated. Michelle was tight-lipped the rest of the drive, and I stared out the window at the passing scenery with a frown. This sucked.
But then things started to look vaguely familiar, as if I’d been down these roads before. We drove for a solid twenty minutes, and it was then I wondered if Michelle was somehow taking me to Mason’s place. No, no way. No freaking way. How would she know where he lived? Why would she…I literally just told her that I wasn’t seeing him, didn’t I? What the hell was my sister’s problem?
It was when she turned into the parking lot of his apartment building that I truly felt like being sick. “Michelle, no. No, take me back home. I—” My voice halted the moment she pulled up along the sidewalk, near the front door. It was a fire lane, so no cars were allowed to park there.
More specifically, my voice stopped when I saw the cute guy standing with his hands shoved in his pockets near the front door, a small smile on his face, familiar dimples on his cheeks. Mason stood there, his light brown hair being blown by the cold wind, and he came up to the door, causing Michelle to hit the unlock button.
I threw her a look, my heart nearly beating out of my chest. No. No, no, no. This wasn’t fair. “Why would you bring me here?”
“Because,” Michelle said, leaning to unbuckle my seatbelt for me, since I made no moves to do it myself, “your boyfriends want to talk to you, and I’m not going to let you screw this up. You were happy before—I saw it. Mom and Dad saw it. You need to get out of this car and face your fears, Bree.”
I wanted to be sick. “What? No, I—”
Mason opened the door, offering me his hand, and I swallowed, both wanting to take it and wanting to somehow force Michelle to drive me back home. Shouldn’t Mason be working or in class or something? I mean…what the hell was this?