The Makeover

The Makeover [7]

The Makeover
CHAPTER 7 (EDITED)

“Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: "What! You too? I thought I was the only one.” ― C.S. Lewis

 

                                           Rosalie Johnson

I took a deep breath and opened my closed eyes. This was it. There was no turning back.

My hair was pulled and tugged into loose curls that framed my face. My make-up felt like a mask to me, but in the mirror it looked almost natural, as if it was a part of me. I smiled gently and reached up to touch my face, but my hand was slapped away as one of the workers had shot me a warning glare. "Do not touch," she snapped in a heavy French accent. I simply nodded my head, and allowed her to do the last finishing touches.

"There," she grinned brightly, "now you do not look so ... How do you Americans ―"

"I'm Canadian," I cut in.

"― say it? Horrid?" She continued as if she hadn't heard me. She must not like me very much. However, I shrugged it off, and focused on the task at hand: being the best damn model they have ever seen ... or at least that was my goal.

I stood from my chair, and walked into the curtained off room known as my "change room". There, on several racks, sat my outfit for the first part of the shoot. It was cute. It was a mini silver metallic dress, paired with black heels, and spiky earrings. It was edgy, sleek, and definitely not something I had ever worn before.

Slowly, I slid the pieces of clothing on and admired myself in them. It made me look so skinny! Maybe a bit too skinny, like twig thin. I should start going to McDonald's more, gain a few more pounds.

"There's my little star!" My head snapped to see Robert striding into my room without so much as a warning. Playfully pouting, I shot Robert an amused glare.

"Don't you knock? What if I wasn't dressed?" I teased. He smiled before he shook his head.

"You've been in here for over fifteen minutes. If that was the case then I would have to wonder what you were doing in here," he joked as he wiggled his eyebrows.

I only smiled in return and patted Robert on his shoulder.

I felt strange, more confident. It was great; but how long would it last for?

"There is someone I would like you to meet," Robert stated, his grin growing even bigger.

"Ashton," he called.

My breath caught in my throught. All it took was his name andI felt all the confidence I had, drain away from me. I guess that answered my previous question.

A man I had seen several times, on the stands, on the TV, and even on Amber's wall stood right in front of me. He had straight black hair that framed his face, stunning grey eyes, and gosh, he was he tall. He was, in all honesty, the epitome of sexiness.

"Hello," a husky voice greeted me. Oh dear, somebody catch me because this guy is blowing me away.

"Hi," I responded back sheepishly and Robert shot me a knowing look, but I ignored him. This guy was too observant for his own good. 

Ashton shot me a grin and bobbed his head as he accepted my greeting. So far, so good. He didn't seem like the playboy type in person. Although Ashton did nice things, his relationships with women were quite notorious in the media. Then again, I had only known him for what? Less than five minutes.