Have you ever agreed to something and then about five seconds later questioned not only your own decision-making but all of your life choices? That was me as I stared at myself in the mirror sporting black high heels with a pair of cute bows on the back, white jeans that hugged my hips snuggly, and a bright red blouse under a short leather jacket.
The outfit itself was awesome and insanely comfortable, but it was half of what was going to be a "couple outfit," with the one Tate was currently putting on. We were about to get all cozy in front of a camera, pretending to be madly in love in VERY close proximity.
I groaned, pulling my eyes from the mirror. "I'm gonna look like some lovesick copycat freak with this matching outfit. It seemed like a good idea when I designed it..." But there's going to be photographic evidence of inevitable... I shuddered. ...snuggling today... and it will last forever...
As I left the changing room, I scoffed, pushing my black hair set out in loose curls, out of my face. It's just a photo shoot. Chill out. You do this all the time. Just dig deep and pretend he doesn't piss you off.
I walked into the curtained off makeup area and the moment I spotted Tate, I burst out laughing. His face was smeared with poorly applied foundation and eyeliner. He looked like a toddler had taken a marker and doodled on his face while he slept.
I doubled over laughing, unable to breathe. "OH MY GOSH! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?!?" I snorted in between gasping breaths. He tried to look irritated, his lips furrowed in a line, but after a moment he gave up and silently held up his arms as if to say "TA-DA!"
I waved my hands in front of my face, trying to keep myself from crying. Don't ruin your makeup, don't do it, don't do it. "Tate..." I managed after the hysterics passed. "What..." I started laughing again. I took a deep breath. "What did you do?"
He looked at me with a mock confused face. "What do you mean? Isn't this look all the rage these days? The 'someone came at me with an eye pencil thing and I fought back to save myself' look?
I placed my hands on my hips, trying to be serious. Trying to stop myself from laughing again, but he made it nearly impossible. My mouth quirked up into a grin. "Did you scare off the makeup girls with your incessant flailing?"
He shrugged. "They said something about getting me something to clean off my face so they could try again."
I scanned the counter and spotted makeup wipes. "Lean back," I ordered.
He raised a brow. "Are you going to try and stab me with an eye pencil?"
"Just trust me okay. I need you alive. No stabbing. For now..." I said with an amused smirk.
He swallowed, looking a little nervous. "Okay... now I really don't trust you."
I plucked up one of the makeup wipes. "Good. Trusting people you don't know is stupid." He leaned out of my reach as I moved to wipe off the makeup. "Come on Convertible Guy, just sit still."
A muscle worked in his jaw as he sized me up.
I waved around the makeup wipe. "Look, the faster you let me wipe off the makeup, the faster this whole thing is over." He sighed and leaned his head back, sitting still.
I slowly reached down and gripped his jaw to keep his face from moving. I brought my face close to get a good look as I worked. I felt him swallow under my touch, no doubt wondering when I was going to stab him with the eye pencil.
After wiping his face clean of the eyeliner, I wiped down his jaw, taking a selfish moment to enjoy how utterly, fantastically, perfectly, chiseled it was. How sharp his cheekbones were. How his mouth was still insanely beautiful. Nothing like a sexy view...
"Where'd you learn to do shoot makeup?" Tate asked, pulling me from my very private thoughts.
I cleared my throat and turned to grab the foundation, giving myself a moment to clear my head. Now is not the time to drool, Allie.
I began to apply a light layer of foundation to his face. He didn't need much. He had a lot to work with. "I went to night school for makeup and picked up a few things."
"What's something that makes you happy?" he asked.
The words caught me off guard, making me pause for a moment. "What, why?"
"Well I've pissed you off enough times... I'd like to earn some points here."
I took a step back and stared down at him in disbelief. "Wait, I'm the asshole who ruined your car, yelled at you, didn't apologize and you are trying to make nice?" I shook my head. "You have that backwards. I should be the one trying to fix things."
Tate raised a brow in a friendly challenge. "Are you going to?"
"I..." I have no clue how. "I... I'm not very good at the nice thing."
Tate leaned forward in his chair, eyes bright. "Well, I am... well I normally am. And I can't make you change the way you handle things. But I sure can change the way I do. So let me try. Maybe it will help you not want to jump out of the car EVERY time I drive you anywhere. And who knows, maybe I will rub off on you."
That'd be a freaking miracle.
I crossed my arms, feeling unsettled, off-balance, off-kilter with his green eyes so open, so sincere, and his words so incredibly honest. I should have seen it sooner. He wasn't hiding a thing. He was just... kind. Nothing like any guy I had dated, or been attracted to before. I was a douche magnet. A girl that seemed to attract everyone that would break or hurt me. How on earth did you get here Tate?
"What do you want to know?" I asked cautiously.
"Favorite food?"
"Anything baked." I motioned for him to lean back again. "I am a sucker for any and all baked goods." I smiled wistfully, thinking of all the late nights I had spent baking whenever I couldn't sleep. There was something so comforting about creating something delicious with your hands.
"But if I had to pick a favorite meal... and if a piece of chocolate cake can't count as a meal then..." I thought about it for a moment. "A grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup. It tastes like home. Cooking makes me feel like I am in potions class at Hogwartsâ" I stopped talking when I realized how much I had just sounded like a complete and total dork. Way to go Allie.
"I wish I could cook," Tate replied, unphased by my nerdy response.
"I love cooking. It was my job at my house." I didn't explain the why. How it became my job once my mom and dad were gone. How I tried my best to do the house chores while my older sister tried to provide for me and my younger sister. "I'm a very good cook."
"You'll have to teach me something then," Tate replied from under the foundation brush against his cheek. I looked away, focusing on the task, ignoring any potential invitation to spend time together outside of work.
I moved my foundation brush up to the area under his eyes, feeling him flinch under my touch. "Stay still... I won't hurt you."
"Liar," Tate murmured but remained perfectly still.
I chuckled and moved to grab the eyeliner. Tate shook his head. "No way. I'd rather wear clown makeup than have you use that on my face."
"Ten seconds and it's done," I promised, trying not to smile at the look of doubt on his face.
"Fine," he replied, looking anything but.
I slowly brought the pencil across his left lower eyelid, taking in his thick dusty lashes. I quickly moved on to the next, making sure to keep the makeup to a minimum. Then I took a step back. "See? You are alive. No eyes have been stabbed."
Tate sighed, melting into the makeup chair like he had just fought in a war and had no energy left to stand. "That was a near-death experience."
"Sure..." I replied dryly before adding several other things to highlight his cheekbones.
After a moment, I sighed, suddenly overwhelmed by his willingness to help me save my photoshoot. Overwhelmed by how he had taken to being dressed up with good humor. Overwhelmed by... well him. He was overwhelming. But it wasn't necessarily... bad.
And I had been incredibly unfair to him. And the more I worked, the more guilty I felt. "I'm sorry... for the car. For my always terrible word choices... for being a jerk." I put down the brush and brushed my fingers across his cheeks, removing several bits of loose makeup.
"I suck at socializing. Good with clothes... just bad with talking... and with people. So... I'm sorry." I wiped my hands on a towel as I took a step back to appraise my work. "And thank you for helping today. I know this isn't how you were planning on spending your day," I shoved my hands into my jean pockets. "So... thanks. Obviously we will pay for your time modeling today. And if there is anything I can do to help fix..." I waved my arm's in a vague flail. "...the mess I made of things, let me know."
Tate stood up and I finally got to see the clothes I designed in all their glory. He wore a pair of red shoes, skinny black jeans, a buttoned-down white shirt, and a leather jacket that matched mine. My gosh, I'm good, I thought as I gave him the once over. This was the first line of clothing I had designed for guys and he made me wonder why I hadn't been designing them all along. Because he'd look good in a brown paper bag. He makes everything look good.
"There is something I would like," Tate replied, taking a step towards me, his eyes unreadable.
I had to tilt my head back to look him in the eye. "Which is?"
"Actually I want several things," he amended.
I crossed my arms, "this isn't a hostage negotiation. You don't get an endless supply of demands."
The sides of his lips quirked up. "If that was the case, I would clearly be the hostage." He ran his fingers through his brown hair ruffling it. "It would be great if my cousin could shadow you at your next shoot."
"Oh..." I was surprised by his request. He hadn't asked for something for himself. "Okay. Sure, that's fine."
He held up two fingers, "Two, I would like for you to cook me something."
My mouth dropped open. "What?!"
He smiled, his eyes ablaze. "You said you were a good cook. I want proof and I want it in meal form."
I gritted my teeth, wishing I hadn't insisted on fixing things. Screw being the good guy. How long is his list?!? "Are you..." I scoffed and tried to form words again. "I'm... I'm not a restaurant!" I took in a deep breath, trying to calm down. "Anything else?" I managed.
He smiled wider, a hidden joke playing in his eyes. "Yes, but I'll save that one for later."
"Look, Convertible Guy, I'm not some freaking genie! You don't get three wishes! I meantâ"
Susan walked through the partition cutting off the start of my rant that would have no doubt lead to me turning into a She-Hulk.
"You both ready for the love bird couple shots?" she asked.
I swallowed down a combination of irritation andâwas it nausea or butterflies? Do both make you feel like you are going to throw up?
I offered Susan a weak smile. "As ready as I'll have to be..."
Tate laughed. "This is going to be fun."
No... no, it will not.
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Thank you for reading chapter five! I hope you are enjoying the story! Or are at least curious to see where it goes!
UPDATE DAYS - A NEW CHAPTER EVERY FRIDAY!
How do you think the fashion photoshoot will go?
What will Tate's last favor be?
Will Tate be a good model? Why do you think he was so nervous about the idea of being a model?
How will Allie do?
Will both of them work well together on camera, or will it be a total disaster?
CHAPTER QUESTION - How do you do with having your picture taken?