"Black looks good on you, Acacia"
My breath hitched as I gradually turned around only to see Damien leaning against the door, smirking at my lingerie-clad figure. His hands tucked deep inside his pockets, his shirt slightly unbuttoned. His thumb pl...
"Christie, it's too revealing, don't ya think?" I sceptically examined the lilac dress she gave me.
I doubt I'll be able to walk around in this, I mean it would ride up and show places I want to keep hidden.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Christie had paced around the room about a thousand times wondering which makeup, hair and heels would look bomb on me.
Her blonde hair looked like a pigeon's nest as she continued to anxiously pull on them. At this rate, she'll probably not have any left on the head. I think she is more nervous about the party than I am.
She instantly stopped in her tracks and turned to look at me. Geez, woman! She looked like she'd murder me for saying that.
"Listen here Acacia, you have curves, a wonderful figure and areas I don't wanna mention coz it's gonna be awkward but all I am saying is, show off whatever you have because babe, you're hot. Come on, this is your party!" Christie said, all in one breath making my jaw drop and a fit of laughter escaped my lips.
I grinned as she gestured me to go change.
After changing, she began to make my hair and do my makeup. I'd be lying if I said she was bad, she was magical, phenomenal indeed.
(The pictures below are for reference purposes, Acacia doesn't look like that)
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Be confident and bright Acacia, show Damien who he's marrying" She winked, prancing out of the room.
I let out a nervous laugh, Haha (notice the sarcasm)
I don't want people to see me in barely any clothes. It's not that I'm shy or scared, I'm unsure. There are faint marks on my upper arm and patches on my thighs. They are healing and are barely there but I know they are and that's the biggest reason I'm slightly cynical.
I ruefully traced my fingertips down my arm, glancing in the mirror.
Shaking my head, I let out a sigh.
Casey, man up! We can do this!
Yes, I can do this. What's done is done.
Waitttttttt! What if I trip over my heels, fall into a fruit punch bowl and die!?