LANA MASON
"Miss Lana?" Jane speaks softly and sweetly, which usually means she wants something from me.
"Yes?" I use her Mason Pearson brush to gently gather her full head of hair into a perfect bun at the crown of her head.
"What if I fall down?"
My heart sinks for her as I tilt my head with a quiet, sympathetic laugh. "You aren't going to fall down, silly. But if you do, everything will be okay."
Her eyes scan her dad's bathroom counter in thought before she asks, "Will people laugh at me?"
I shake my head more seriously, though I can imagine people would laugh only because ballerinas her age are adorable no matter what they do. Certainly, they wouldn't be laughing at her, but that's hard to explain to a kid.
"Nobody's going to laugh at you, babe," I secure her bun with an elastic and a decent amount of bobby pins, shielding her eyes to spray it so it stays intact from now until we get to the theater. "Let's do your makeup now."
She giggles as I wiggle my brows up and down in a teasing way, but Miss Rachel was very specific with the instructions for the girls' makeup look. They should have pink cheeks, pink lips, and mascara on their lashes. Personally, I thought that was all a little ridiculous for four-year-olds, but what could I have said? At least Jane is excited about it.
"Do I look pretty?" She smiles, per my instruction, as I stipple some liquid blush on her pale olive skin.
"You always look pretty," I remind her. "With or without makeup."
She purses her little lips so I can paint on the pink color next, but the mascara is a whole battle. Naturally, because she's four, she's not used to having anything so close to her eyes. The nice thing is that her lashes are so long that I can add a couple of coats to them with her eyes shut. All I have to do is swipe away the residue, and she's good to go.
"There," I cap the tube and drop it in my cosmetic bag. "You're all ready."
With a smile still, she runs to the mirror to see herself and she seems to be happy with the result. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," I stuff her costume for the recital into her bag while she steps into her velcro sneakers.
On our way out of Harry's apartment, I receive a text from Harry and Allison almost simultaneously. My heart skips a beat at the sight of both their names for completely different reasons.
Allison Franklin: Hi Lana! My parents and I are on our way to the theater so we'll meet you there!
Harry Styles: Hey, I'm just finishing at the restaurant and then I'll be on my way to the theater.
I respond to both of them once Jane and I are in our Uber on our way to the Upper West Side, and to say that I'm nervous about how this afternoon will go is an understatement. This will be the first time I've been in the same room as Allison and Harry together since the first time the three of us met. That was before I decided that I was obsessed with Harry and before I knew that she cheated on him. This will also be the first time I meet Allison's parents. I don't know why I'm so scared about that when I know nothing about them. They might be pleasant.
However, there's also the minor issue that things have definitely been strange between Harry and me since my birthday last weekend. Maybe strange isn't the right word, but I sincerely do not think I'm making it up when I say there's some kind of weird tension. It's not that things are awkward between us, but whatever lighthearted energy we had going for us before is nowhere to be found. Even though he said it was fine that I was drinking and being a total freak on stage that night, maybe he was just trying to make me feel better and now he's trying to establish real boundaries. Maybe that whole thing was too much for him. I wouldn't blame him if that were true.
