Page 70 of Be Your Anything
My brow furrows, confusion warring with displeasure and irritation and infatuation and desire.
“What?”
“Can I see you tonight?”
“I don’t…” I look around, as if there’s something in this office that will help me answer his question. “I mean… I don’t…”
“Look, I just…I really need to see you.”
I close my eyes and let out a long breath, knowing I’m going to hate myself but unable to resist.
“Yeah, I guess. Yeah. Just, you know, tell me where to go.”
He lets out a sigh, something that sounds like relief but could just as easily be resignation.
“Does eight work? I’ll come to yours.”
I nod, then remember he can’t see me. “Yeah, that’ll work.”
There’s another pause…another break of silence that sits and settles between us like the last candle about to be snuffed out.
“I can’t wait to see you,” he says.
I know it’s true, or at least I know he believes it’s true. But if I’m completely honest, I don’t know that he’s ever really seen me.
Lucas: Be there in ten
I don’t know what to expect tonight, and I stare blankly at the text message from Lucas for a moment too long before I refocus my attention on myself in the mirror.
The plum-colored lipstick I normally wear needed a touchup after a long day, so I decided to shower and redo my hair and my full face of makeup.
Because that makes sense.
I let out a sigh, not really understanding what I’m doing or why, but just knowing the way Lucas makes me feel is something I don’t want to give up, even if it means I’m giving up my ability to really look at myself in the mirror without seeing something I don’t like.
He usually wants to meet at my place, though I try not to spend too much time thinking about why. If I think about it, I’ll have to acknowledge the fact that he wants to have sex here so he can leave afterwards and not feel guilty.
There’s a look on his face when we do something at his house. He walks me to the door, kisses me, and then there’s this little wave of discomfort that washes over him, just for a second. I don’t know what it means, but I do know it’s one of the reasons he prefers to stay at mine.
Putting the cap back on my lipstick, I grab some body mist and give myself a spritz then flick off the bedroom light and head downstairs, only stopping for a second to glance at my full reflection in the mirror at the top of the stairs.
I’m playing dirty tonight with a short skirt and a pair of black knee-high boots. Lucas loves when I wear boots. Or knee-high socks. I think he has aCluelessfetish. My hair is left down, my makeup giving me a bit of a smoky eye, my top low enough to hint at cleavage.
I look like a fucking snack.
“Alexa, turn on Sexy Time,” I say as I wander through the living room and to the kitchen to get out a bottle of wine and some whiskey for Lucas.
As commanded, Alexa lights the electric fire, dims the lights, and turns on a playlist full of my mood music.
Perfect.
Lucas might not be coming here for sex this time, but I’ll be damned if I don’t try to make him think about how good we are together before he throws in the towel.
I don’t know what tonight is going to entail, though a big part of me thinks he’s going to call things off. I just know that, whatever comes my way, I always feel better at managing my emotions if I have my face on. My mask.
That’s what my mother has always called it when you do a full face of makeup.
“Think of your makeup as a mask that lets you project what you want into the world,” she told me during my first professionally done makeover. I couldn’t have been older than eight at the time. “You get to choose what role you want to play. Innocent girl, strong bitch, sexy siren.” She took the lipstick away from the makeup artist and finished applying it herself. “The important thing, though, is thatyouget to choose.”
