inflame | provoke or intensify

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2/10/17

BETWEEN THE CLOTHES, the shoes, and the makeup, girls cover every inch of Francesca's humongous room. She invited girls from the cheer squad to get ready with us for Asher's party tonight. My best friend herself may not cheer herself, but every single girl on the squad knows that Francesca is the girl to befriend. The girl to stand beside at school to gain status.

My best friend's room is filled with girls just like her. Naturally beautiful, popular, rich. Girls I find I rarely have anything in common with, but I find myself trying more than in the past. Trying to engage in conversations, even if I fail, and I don't know if it's a change that's stemmed from Asher or myself. But I'm not mad about it.

One face is noticeably missing from the usual group of attendees I know Francesca parties with. I quietly walk over to her as she thumbs through a closet I swear is almost as big as my room.

"Hey," I say quietly, not trying to gain any attention though as my eyes cast around the room I realize it's not needed, as no one is even looking my way.

"Hi," she smiles back at me warmly.

"Where's Jessica?" I question asking about the girl most noticeably missing from the pack. Jessica is someone who always parties with Francesca. They even head over to state college some weekends to party at the bars and fraternities there.

Her eyes focus on the multitude of skirts in front of her. "She's not coming," she states simply.

"Oh," I breathe. "Why?" I ask not understanding why one of Francesca's friends and someone so popular wouldn't be in attendance when every other girl sits getting ready in her room.

My best friend's cat-like eyes meet mine. "Because she can be mean to you sometimes, and I know you don't feel super comfortable around her," she says with a small shrug as if her actions mean nothing. When they mean everything. Francesca is aware I don't get along great with her friends, but she always involves me when she can, sticks up for me if someone says something rude, and always puts me first.

"But she's your friend," I tell her. Letting my words allude to the fact that Francesca can invite anyone she likes to her house. It is her house.

She shakes her head lightly. "And you're my best friend," she states. "I love Jessica, but even she can get on my nerves sometimes and I wanted a fun night," my best friend tells me with a playful wink trying to brush off what she did as if it doesn't matter. As if she didn't look out for me to make sure I'm going to have a fun night, a night I was tagging along no matter what. But she doesn't just want me to be her sidekick; she wants me to enjoy the night with her.

My chest fills with a feeling only my mother and my best friend can produce, a feeling of complete and total love and acceptance. Then of course a dash of guilt strikes my chest at the fact that Francesca would do anything for me, and here I am messing around with her crush.

Is messing around the right word here? What does one call a kiss? A gift of donuts? I shake my head of all the confusing thoughts that want to attack me, and let my lips turn up in an earnest smile at my best friend.

"Love you," I speak truthfully.

"Love you more Mae," she responds before playfully smacking my hip. "Now go get some makeup on your damn face."

I chuckle but go over to her vanity and pull out my small makeup bag compared to the vast array of shades and types of makeup my best friend owns. I mess around and let myself put on a little more than usual. Let myself experiment with shades of eye shadow and eye liner.

"Do you need help?" a soft voice calls out from behind me.

I pull the liquid eyeliner away from my face and focus on the petite girl behind me. I pause before realizing it's Dalyn, a junior at our school. Someone who has always been nice to me in passing, though we have never really had an actual conversation.

"Sure," I shrug trying to step out of my comfort zone.

She walks over pulling her shoulder length black hair into a low ponytail. She leans over in front of me to inspect my eyes so far. I'm decent at doing eyeliner on my waterline with a simple black stick. But doing eyeliner with a liquid pencil on my lids is where I lose all hope.

My body tenses in slight fear when my eyes take in the state of her top. For such a small girl, her chest is rather large and now that she's bending over I'm scared that something may pop out at me.

Dalyn must catch my worried glance as a small chuckle escapes her darkly coated lips. "Don't worry, they're taped in," she informs me with a slight smile.

An embarrassed flush coats my neck that she caught me, but a smile lifts my lips that she was nice about it. That she's nice enough to offer help with my makeup. Her face is flawless, so I know I'm at least in good hands where she's concerned.

All these girls wear such tight, short, revealing clothing. But if I had their bodies I would also. They all have an air of confidence about them that makes them able to pull off clothing as such, and look damn good doing so.

"The art to the wing is honestly to just relax," she tells me. "Close your eyes," she instructs and I quickly follow.

I feel the wet felt tip lightly brush against the lid of my eye. Her touch faint and sure, as if she's been doing this for years, and she probably has. I was definitely late to the makeup train, though I've learned a few things here and there being friends with Francesca.

"Okay," she says quietly and though I can't see her I can picture her inspecting her work. "Open your eyes," follows after a few seconds of dutiful examination.

She tilts her head towards the mirror for me to check it out. And when my eyes meet my own in the mirror a gasp lodges itself in my throat. I'm surprised. It's subtle, the wing, but pulls together perfectly with the dusty gold eye shadow and rose blush that coats my cheeks. It's not over the top, though it's more makeup then I generally ever wear. But I feel pretty, I actually feel more than pretty. I feel sexy, and it's an odd feeling to embody myself when I've only ever felt that way around one person. One boy.

My skin flashes with heat thinking of having Asher see me this way tonight. Will he like it? Will he want to kiss me again?

"Do you like it?" Dalyn asks, unsure of my reaction.

I nod quickly. "Yes, it's perfect thank you," I gush so happy about the overall look.

"Franny are you finally going to make a move on Asher tonight?" A girl named Jaz asks, sitting on the edge of my best friend's bed, crossing her crazy long legs. My attention instantly moves away from my makeup. My shoulders stiffen as I await my best friend's answer. My chest aching with a hatred for how much I care about what my best friends next words will be.

Francesca pops her head out of the closet. "A lady doesn't make the first move," she tells Jaz with a raised brow.

"You're right," Jaz smirks. "A lady doesn't make a simple old move, she throws herself on top of the man she wants and rides him until he forgets his name," she teases.

The room erupts in giggles at Jaz's words. She's always been a more flamboyant personality, with a tendency for the crude. Though her wild words always come off more polished with her slight accent as she grew up in South Africa before moving to America at a young age.

"Jaz you are too much," I hear a girl from the corner laugh boisterously.

"So are you though?" Jaz pushes not dropping the topic.

"Am I what?" Francesca asks her voice echoing from inside the closet.

"Going to jump his bones," Jaz says as if it's obvious. "Asher is hot, like damn my panties are on fire hot," she explains as if Asher's attractiveness needed to be qualified any further.

"Jaz," Dalyn sighs while shaking her head. Though the room continues to giggle from behind me, my eyes watching the room through the reflection in the mirror.

"What?" she questions. "Everyone agrees, don't act like you don't," she shrugs. Her larger than life personality makes the room laugh loudly, though only making me more anxious as we await my best friend's answer.

"Jaz you make me laugh," Francesca's voice giggles lightheartedly. "But for your information Asher told me the most about this party, and kept saying how excited he is for me to come," she continues. Her words only make me feel nauseous. "So to answer your barbaric question I do think tonight will be the night that he makes the move," she tells the room, as she rounds the corner of her closet and places her hands on her hips.

The room cheers at her words. A distinct, "Hell yeah," comes from Jaz. Everyone knows Asher and Francesca are meant for each other. Everyone. But here I am letting myself fall in the flame that is Asher, and letting him make me think I belong. But I don't, and everyone knows it.

"Oh, Mae, you look amazing," Francesca exclaims as she approaches me from behind placing her hands on my shoulders. She's completely done up in a short leather skirt, an almost sheer wrap top, and knee high boots. She looks amazing, though she always does.

"Thanks Franny," I murmur quietly.

"Okay," she claps her hands together. "Everyone get dressed we are going to pregame some before heading over," she tells everyone and grabs my hand quickly to pull me from the vanity.

"I have the perfect dress for you," she tells me with confidence.

"I was just going to wear this," I shrug, pulling at the shirt clinging to my body. My best friend's eyes wash over me with disapproval.

"Mae," she states with a raised eyebrow. "Your makeup is amazing and you are not going to waste it on some mom jeans and an old tank," she says motioning to my outfit.

"I don't know..." I trail unsure about wearing something else. I feel comfortable in this, I'm not trying too hard, which means no one can say anything about me that can hurt me while wearing this.

"Please, at least try on the dress," she begs with puppy dog eyes.

I let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine," I grumble and let her lead me further into her endless closet.