Spitfire

Chapter 9

I don't know how, but our group had managed to slip into the room without Paul waking up. Although the sleeping pills I had given him at supper would have worn off, he didn't even flinch when I opened his door to check on him.

"He is still breathing, right?" A raspy voice asked from beside me. I shut Paul's bedroom door.

"You won't be breathing if you wake him up with your loud talking!" I hissed, turning around and making my way toward the kitchen.

"I have a question." Louis interjected while he raised his hand above his head. "What are we going to tell him tomorrow morning when he sees the massive bruise on Hazza's face?" Louis's blue orbs widened to the size of softballs. "He's going to kill all of us when he finds out we got into a tiff at the club."

I rolled my eyes.

"Do you really think I wouldn't have already thought about that?" I asked, playing with the button on my leather jacket. "That's going to be an easy fix."

They all waited for me to explain further.

I turned to Harry, narrowing my eyes and smirking as I told him what was going to happen.

"How do you feel about wearing makeup?

*

*

Instead of waiting for Paul to wake us all up the next morning, I crept into Harry's room. My huge makeup bin rattled with the tools I was going to be using to cover Harry's face, so I had to be super careful not to wake Paul up.

"What do you even need all that for? Our stylist doesn't even have that much stuff." Harry greeted me as I came in, eyeballing the pink case apprehensively when I set it on the small desk next to his bed.

I shrugged and opened the cover. I dug through the compact case and found four different shades of concealer. As I tried to vary which color best matched with Harry's skin tone, he played with the multiple eyeliners I had laid out.

"Do you even wear this much makeup?" He asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled on us.

I shrugged, picking the beige colored skin tone and putting all the other choices back.

"Sometimes I like to switch it up. When I was growing up these things were never offered to me, so I guess I'm just compensating now."

Harry turned to me with a confused expression.

"Your mom didn't wear makeup or anything like that?"

My jaw clenched. I knew I should stop talking, but words kept leaving my mouth without my consent.

"My mom and dad didn't allow me to wear makeup. They didn't think it was necessary."

I guess Harry picked up on the shortness of my voice, because he immediately dropped the subject.

"Where did you grow up? I mean obviously in America, but what state?"

I motioned for him to sit on the edge of the bed as I unscrewed the top of the small jar of tan liquid.

"I lived in multiple places. I was born in Texas, and then when I was 17 I moved to Wisconsin with my best friend. He basically took care of me while my brother lived in Minneapolis. I was only visiting when Paul had found me at the gym.

Harry looked thoughtful, and I took the opportunity of his silence and began dabbing at his face with a sponge.

"Tell me about your brother. Is he older or younger?"

I glanced at Harry's green eyes and continued my work. I didn't like talking about my family, and that seemed as if that was the only thing he wanted to discuss.