Phone Tag (Shidge/Klance)

Chapter 7

Author's Notes:

Here it is! The moment you've been waiting for! (Bonus points if you know what I'm referencing here.)

Before Katie entered her cubicle, wolf whistles and cat calls echoed throughout Altea Tech. And by the end of her shift, they were all stuck in her head.

"Why don't you dress like a girl more often?" Because it wasn't comfortable or convenient. It took too much time. She didn't deal with her customers in person. She could show up in pajamas and not give a rat's ass.

"Hey, I want to see that pretty smile." Katie grimaced out of spite. She would smile when she wanted to, not at the request of a sexist pig.

"So, who's the hot date tonight?" None of your damn business, she thought as she wrote up her third (and final) sexual harassment complaint of the day.

Katie remembered why she hated wearing dresses: the attention. Both wanted and unwanted. Her dress wasn't even all that fancy. Just the average mint green sundress and a white cardigan. Sure, it was disgustingly hot outside, but she hated exposing her shoulders. She didn't exacty tan. If she was outside for at least ten minutes without sunscreen, she was redder than an entire bottle of ketchup squirted onto a cherry-colored canvass.

She was impressed with Lance. He hadn't said anything gross or tried hitting on her. Although telling her she looked like a clown was mildly offensive. "Pidge, you need to lay off on the eyeshadow and blush. Purple? What are you, ten? You don't even need that much blush."

"Lance, if you know so much about make-up, why don't you just do it for me?"

Lance gasped. "Really? Can I do your hair, too?"

Is he not fluent in sarcasm? She ran a hand through her hair, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. It was so short—it wasn't like he could do much for it. Why not? She could always fix everything he would fuck up later. "Fine."

"Sweet! BRB." Indeed, Lance was right back with a handful of beauty products. He didn't notice (or pretended not to notice) Katie's confused yet judgmental expression. "Lucky for me and you, I'm off for the next couple hours." He handed her a wipe.

Again, Katie was lost.

"It removes all of the gunk off your face. Don't worry, it's gentle on skin and safe around your eyes. I use it to wash my face every morning and evening."

She mumbled an "okay" and wiped her face clean. The once-white cloth was now stained with a couple purple smudges and caked in a deep pink. Lance was right—she'd used more blush than she probably needed.

He dropped a bottle of primer in her hands. "Rub this in on your eyelids. One small dollop for both lids is enough. I'll take care of the rest."

While Katie applied primer, Lance selected a swatch of pale pink eyeshadow. "So, what's the special occasion?"

"It's none of your business," she snapped. Why was it so important for every person to know?

Lance wiggled a finger at her. "This is my business. This job helps me pay for my business. And since I want my business to do well, I need to know what sort of look my customer needs."

"I'm meeting with a friend. He wants me to meet his coworker." She mentally prayed Lance didn't interpret it as a date.

"Sounds like fun."

Katie closed her eyes. "Not really. It's not a good day for my friend."

"Mm-hm. Now, open your eyes." Lance whistled. "Pidge, you look gorgeous." He flipped his phone's camera to selfie mode.