❝Calm your tits, man. You got your fucking dark roast latte with an extra shot of fuckboy all over my arm!❞
During an evening in May, Tasha Aquino finally acquires her chance at an adventure. However, it comes at a deadly price and her seemingly un...
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twenty-two ◌ bow ties and promposals
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The knots in my stomach were twisting, pulling, grappling within the pits of my body, and the nerves had become physically painful. The yellow radiance of the bathroom's lighting fixtures casted a sickly glow upon my sweating face, and I grimaced at the the daunting reflection. Turning on both knobs, a blend of both water temperatures percolated from the faucet and I drenched my face.
This was utterly insane and I was an idiotic dingbat for delving into an errand that could possibly get us arrested, or killed. It was one thing to break into an empty bank once, and now I was about to do it again— with a celebration taking place on the other side of the walls no less. There was no need to constantly remind me of why I was risking my entire life, but the longer I stood in this lavish bathroom, fixing my hair and deciding what to do with my eye makeup, I couldn't help the scene of memory obliteration happening in my mind.
"You better be decent, I'm coming in here."
That was the only warning before the bathroom door opened and Harry sauntered in. Not even considerate enough to wait for a response, the curly-headed boy stopped his movements before the mirror to swipe a few fingers through his hair.
"What's the point of announcing yourself, if you're just going to waltz right in without regard of what could've been behind the door?" I criticized, eyeing Harry with displeasure.
"Baby girl, if you were really concerned about me catching glimpse of your naked body, you would've locked the door," Harry retorted, a smug look painted across his face. I scoffed at him, continuing dry my face off with a towel.
Digging my hands into my small pouch of makeup, I pulled out a spooly to fix my unruly brows. I leaned closer to the mirror, brushing out the hair till they were tame enough for me to fill in. As I did this, I noticed Harry attempting to fasten his black bowtie. It was an elegant touch to his midnight blue server's suit. The black suspenders clipped to his waist belt, hung at his sides, and the white button up shirt sleekly hugged his torso. For an asshat who normally kept it casual in jeans and a simple t-shirt, Harry looked ridiculously divine— that was one outfit I hoped to never spill anything on.
"Do you need help?" I asked, pausing my movements to gaze at Harry through the mirror. After watching him struggle to knot his bowtie for several minutes, I decided to step in.
"No, I can do this on my own," Harry seemed annoyed with my polite gesture, and continued to lace the fabric between his fingers.
I shrugged my shoulders in defeat, and I leaned towards the mirror again. With a steady hand, I carefully flicked the dark brown gel against the skin of where my brows were sparse. As I did this however, the frustrated grunts of Harry filled my ears. Finding his battle with formal wear to be thwarting to my diligence, I rested the make up off to the side. I grabbed both of Harry's hands and tugged them away from the fabric.
