Page 18 of Her Pretty Things

She brushes something cool across my eyelid.

The door is still open. I can see a piece of it in the mirror. Suddenly I’m more interested in watching Heather decide which shade belongs in the crease of my eye.

“This color makes them look greener.”

“They’re gray.”

“They’re gray-green.”

“They’re gray.”

She leans closer and looks directly into them. “Gray-green.”

My face feels warm. Whatever she gave me is definitely working.

Heather turns back to the palette. “Close your eyes.”

I do.

The brush moves softly over my eyelid. “You have such pretty eyes, Jamie.”

Somewhere between one eye and the other, I stopped bracing for her touch.

Her fingers slide into my hair and tilt my head slightly. “Your nose is beautiful too.”

I laugh. “Nobody has a beautiful nose.”

“You do.”

“You’re insane.” I open my eyes, bracing for the ruler.

She’s smiling at me in the mirror. Just looking. Like there’s genuinely nothing else she’d rather be doing. She touches the little chip in my front tooth with the tip of her finger. “And I love this.”

My smile disappears. “The chip? Why?”

“Because it’s yours.”

I can’t find a single response.

Heather turns back to the makeup. “Close your eyes, sweetheart.”

This time, I don’t argue.

Heather finishes the other eye, then steps back. She studies me in the mirror.

She kept the eyeliner dark, but added something silver at the inner corners that catches when I turn my head. My cheekbones look sharper. My lips are darker without looking painted. It’s good. Really fucking good.

Heather moves a piece of hair over my shoulder. “There.”

“Done?”

“Done.”

“Good.” I turn around in the chair. “Now tell me what the fuck is happening.”

“We’re going to play.” She starts putting the makeup away.

“That’s not an explanation.”