Page 14 of The Fangirl Project
“Sorry, sir,” she wheezes, her pale cheeks flushed an almost iridescent shade of pink. She refuses to look at me for several minutes, until she’s sure she won’t laugh again. She ends up hissing out of the side of her mouth, “Cerys, you kill me. You’re hilarious.Obviouslythat’s not what I meant, but—” She throws her hand up in front of her face to block me out, even as her shoulders shake with barely contained laughter.
Oh thank God. She doesn’t think I’m a boring old prude! She just thought I was making a joke.
She thinks I’mhilarious!
I warm with pride, bottling it up to remember the next time I’m not sure if I fit in with this new group of friends, and only once the bell rings and we’re out of class does Daphne carry on our conversation. She follows me to the bathroom, where I hoist my bag up on to the sinks to rummage through for the makeup I brought with me. I want to glam myself up a little in case itismore of a date, and to send the right sort of signals to Jake, but obviously I can’t go overboard when we are, really, just hanging out to watch TV.
My hands brush over the T-shirt bundled up in my bag. Forest green, with a shimmery pattern and slogan printed on it. I thought the fandom T-shirt Jake gifted me would be perfect to wear tonight. He’d think it was a joke before he thought it was try-hard, but I’mreallyhoping it’ll drive home my dedication to this—tohim.
But Daphne is right there, and—
“Ooh, is that what you’re wearing?”
She’s pulling it out of my bag before I can protest, and my cheeks burn. Her face creases in confusion as she studies theBe YeA Rascal, Roach?motif, and I’m so mortified I want the ground to swallow me whole.
“Er,” she says, and I feel our tenuous friendship slipping away.
I blurt, “My friend—this guy, tonight—bought it for me. It’s, like, a gag gift, you know? Some weird in-joke…”
She gasps, enthralled. “Hegot it for you? Oh my gosh, youhaveto wear it! And the color issoperfect with your eyes.” She holds it up against me, grinning. “It really makes them pop! I bet he totally knew that when he bought it, too.Socute!”
She pushes me toward a toilet stall to go change, and I do, fussing with how the T-shirt sits as I emerge. Daphne helps direct me to tuck it in just so, giving my straight frame at least the illusion of a more defined waist. The boxy fit makes my chest look even flatter than usual, but I bite my tongue before humiliating myself further and asking Daphne if she thinks I should stuff my bra. (Are we still doing that?)
As I bundle my sweater into my bag and go back to touching up my makeup, Daphne’s already chattering away again.
“You have to just put out the right vibes, let him know you’re available and interested, that’s all! Not—” Daphne throws her legs wide and fans her long, elegant fingers around her crotch and throws in a few thrusts for good measure, making me laugh this time. “You know, angle your body toward him, draw attention to your mouth or your hair, mirror his body language, try keeping your hand there for him to hold butnotso it looks like that’s what you’re aiming for, if he isn’t going to.”
“Got it,” I say, a little relieved when these are all the sort of tips I’ve already accumulated from years of watching rom-coms.It’s nothing new, outlandish, or extreme. To hear more-experienced Daphne back up my fictional education is reassuring, too.
“Can I do your lips for you?” she asks.
“Do you—d’you mind?”
Excited, she nods and plonks her own bag down, rummaging through for lip liner and a thick, sticky gloss to paint my lips with.
Surely ifanythingis going to solidify a friendship, it’s this? Gossiping about maybe-dates, doing each other’s makeup. And Daphne’s makeup always looks so good.
I can’t wait for Jake to see my new and improved look.
“There! OMG, you lookstunning!” Daphne pops the lip gloss applicator back into the tube and I turn toward the mirror, bursting to see the transformation, how she’ll have accentuated my lips and made me look irresistible and…
Oh.
Hmm.
I must stare a beat too long, because I swear Daphne’s face falls a little in the reflection of the mirror. I say quickly, “I love it! Thank you! This is perfect!”
I’m not sure “perfect” is really the word, though…My mouth definitely looks bigger and poutier than normal, but it also looks more like I got stung by a bee and it got infected than the dramatic, pretty look it is on Daphne. She hasn’t done anything different or wrong as far as I can tell, but the color doesn’t seem quite right for my freckled skin and fair hair, and I’m forced to admit that my features just can’t carry off this kind of look.
I finish applying some fresh blush and highlighter to my cheeks, and then I’m ready to go, promising Daphne that I’ll texther as soon as I’m home later to let her know how everything went, and promising a second, in-person debrief at Costa tomorrow on the way to school.
I glance at my reflection in the bus window and lift my chin. I can be the kind of girl who carries this look; I can be bold and pretty and confident like them.
And, well, if nothing else—it’ll definitely draw Jake’s attention and hopefully, finally, get me a kiss.
7
When I step off thebus outside Jake’s house, my palms are sweating and I can’t stop fidgeting with my clothes. I’m questioning everything and I hate it.
