Page 62 of Slots & Sticks
“I’m not so sure about this,” Mira chirps from the makeup tray where she’s currently propped like a glorified lip gloss. “She’s never worn that much shimmer before without crying. Probability of meltdown: 22 percent and rising.”
“What the hell is that thing?” Viv recoils, curling iron still in hand.
“I’m Mira,” my AI says sweetly. “Dot’s assistant-slash-companion-slash-emotional insurance policy. You must be the one who thinks highlighter goes on like frosting.”
“I—” Viv blinks.
“She’s mostly harmless,” I hiss out. “Mostly.”
Mira glows, pulsing in and out. “I’m just saying, if she starts ugly crying, aim a fan at her lashes. Priorities.”
After what feels like an eternity, both of them step back. “I’m done,” Viv says. “What do you think?”
Knova gives a slow nod. Then she shakes her head and reaches for a pallet. “One last thing.” She brushes some sort of shimmery powder across my nose and cheeks. “There we go. Take a look, Dot.”
I rise slowly, half afraid I’ll ruin whatever magic they’ve worked by moving too fast. But when I turn toward the mirror, I freeze.
The woman staring back at me is someone I almost recognize. The curve of her cheek, the sparkle in her eyes—it’s me, but not the version who hides. Not the ghost of the girl who kept herself small. For the first time, I don’t look like mymother’s daughter or anyone’s project. I just look like Dot. And she’s… beautiful.
Before, having someone give me a “makeover” had meant that they tried to hide the parts of me they didn’t like. Hips too curvy? Hide them under a baggy dress. Cheeks too soft? Try to make it look like I have cheekbones. Are my glasses too frumpy? Hide ‘em under some permed-out hairdo. Knova and our friends have helped out before, but they’ve never given the full treatment like this, and I hope they took notes.
I love this look.
Instead of trying to hide anything, they’ve accentuated the parts of my face that I like best. My eyes, my lips, and my apple cheeks all pop. Vivian has braided part of my hair away from my face and curled the rest. Between the hairdo and the slight shimmer of the bronzer Knova added at the end, I look fantastic.
More importantly, I look like me.
“You guys…” I begin.
“No tears!” Knova scolds. “Ugh! That thing was right about the ugly cry! Hold ‘em back!”
“But you made me look so nice… I almost see a bit of my mom in there.”
Viv and Knova both dart forward. Knova blows on my cheeks while Viv fans the pages of a nearby novella. I tip my head up and swallow a few times until I’m no longer in danger of ruining my makeup with my emotional weeping.
I’m in the process of pulling on the shoes Viv selected when the doorbell rings. Skinbad and Bo, naturally, lose their damn minds.
“Wait a minute before you come down,” Knova tells me. “You’re making a grand entrance.”
“I’m going to fall down the stairs in these heels,” I mutter.
“No, you won’t.” Viv helps walk me to the landing. “Just watch him as you walk.”
“That seems counterintuitive to not falling,” I point out.
“Deep breaths. You’ve got this.” She releases my hand once I have a firm grip on the banister.
At first, I ignore her advice and watch my feet while holding on for dear life. Four steps or so down, though, I hear Camden’s intake of breath. The sound roots me in place. He’s looking at me like he’s never seen me before—like I’m not just the girl who falls asleep in the passenger seat or makes him laugh when he’s grumpy, but someone who could ruin him with a single smile.
His gaze tracks me as I descend, slow and deliberate. The air between us hums. My heart is a wild drumbeat in my throat.
I look up to see him kneeling next to the dogs, with a bouquet held aloft to keep Bo from having a nibble. He’s wearing a suit that I’ve seen before at Venom events, but this time, I allow myself to really look at him. Damn, those thighs. Those shoulders. Everything about him is a full-blown snack.
I do as Viv said and ogle him until I reach the ground floor.
“Wow.” Camden’s gob smacked. “Dot, you look wonderful.”
“So do you,” I tell him.
