You jumped off the couch, racing to the door and flung it open before the knocking stopped. Just as you predicted, there was Will, smiling at you from over an armful of grocery bags.
"Will!"
"Hey!"
After giving him a quick hug, you held the door open for him as he came in. He looked hot in his black leather jacket, and even more adorable as he looked around helplessly for a place to set the bags.
"Oh here, just put them here," you said, motioning to the small table beside the coat rack. "Thanks for picking those things up for me."
"No problem." Will wrestled with the bags, trying to set them on the table, jostling it in the process and knocking things over. "Oops, here, let me..."
You laughed, bending over to pick up a tube of mascara and loose sheets of paper. "Don't worry, I got it."
Will finally managed to get the bags to stay, and you shoved the paper onto the table, placing the tube of makeup on top of them.
"There, all good," you said, smiling up at him; then you noticed that he was staring at something, and realized that it was the bottle of mascara. "Will?"
"Huh?" he asked, as if snapping out of a deep thought.
"Are you okay?" you asked, stepping up to him and running your hands along the front of his leather jacket, feeling the cool teeth of the zipper track on either side.
"Uh, yeah," he said, a smile beginning to form on his lips as his attention slowly became more focused on you. He rested his hands lightly on your hips as you moved closer to him, gazing into his gorgeous-green eyes.
Will continued to look down at you, then his smile faded a bit as he stared into your face, glancing back and forth between your eyes, a crease forming between his slightly-furrowed brows.
"Will?" you asked, confused, "What is it?"
"I..." Now his eyes were flicking across your entire face, frowning slightly.
His lack of response was unsettling, as was the way he was intently examining your face.
"Will, what's wrong?"
"There's...there's something that I've been wanting to ask you." His voice was deep and his words slow.
"Okay, Will, ask me," you said quickly, desperately wishing for his smile to return. "Anything."
"I...I don't think you're going to like it, but...will you do something for me?"
There was a strangeness in the way that he spoke; unfamiliar to you, and it almost scared you. But you knew that you could trust him, and that he would never ask you to do anything that would hurt you.
"Yes..." you had meant for your response to be firm, but instead it came out more like a question.
Your mind raced, trying to think of what Will could possibly want of you. Something that you weren't going to like? What could it possibly be? And why did he keep staring at you like that? Was something wrong with your face? You had made sure to put on makeup that morning; you would have never dreamed of seeing Will without it. Did you not put enough on like you thought you had? Had you accidentally rubbed some off? Why wouldn't he stop staring!?
"Will?" you asked. "Tell me. Please. What do you want?"
"I want to see you without makeup."
His soft but sincere words hit you like a punch to the chest. You couldn't quite seem to catch your breath, and you felt the blood rush to your face—thankful that the makeup covered it. The makeup covered all of it. The foundation that hid away your imperfections, blemishes, and scars almost as if they were never there to begin with. The eyeliner that made your eyes bigger, better. The mascara that made your lashes darker, longer. The makeup that made you beautiful, or at least created the illusion of beauty. And now he wanted you to remove that.
