It's That 'I Hate You' Kind of Love

Chapter Thirty Six

**When you see ITIHYKOL that stand for It's That I Hate You Kind of Love**

"Are you almost done?"

"No." Came the abrupt reply. I sighed, then winced as the practically needle-pointed brush tangled in my hair once again. My head was nearly throbbing from all the jerking around the brush and it's owner had done to my hair. 'The Black Mess' my mom had called it when I was younger and refused to let her anywhere near me with a comb or a hairdresser.

In the mirror I watched Bethany's nimble fingers as she smoothed out the tangled strands expertly and brushed through sudden silkiness. It was magic. Though I was much too old to believe in those kind of things, it actually seemed like Bethany was performing some sort of 'untangling spell' on my head.

I clasped my hands together, trying hard not to wipe my sweaty palms on the beautiful blue material of my party dress. Luna Joy had already snapped at me several times for 'ruining' the gauzy layer over the underlying soft-cotton.

Looking up in the bathroom mirror, I found myself almost smiling a little. Even after the painful hours of showering, plucking, dressing and painting me like some little girl's well-worn doll I had to admit that the end result might be, sort of, worth the time.

The eyelashes that brushed my pink cheeks were longer and darker. The zit that had hid on the side of my nose was drowned in acne cream and covered by foundation. My pale eyelids were dusted by silver eyeshadow that seemed to glint under the lights.

I believe Bethany said she was going with the 'natural look'. She applied everything very lightly and made sure to stay clear of the heavy stuff I eyed like they were poison. I never was very fond of wearing makeup. But, as I studied myself in the mirror, I decided Bethany's style was much better than my few, pitiful, past attempts.

I blinked my eyes feeling the dry mascara against my skin.

I liked this. I still looked like me.

Would Carson like it?

Butterflies flew in my stomach and I found myself smiling just a bit more, before my grin faltered a little.

I was so nervous. I felt nauseous. A headache seemed to have permanently settled above my eyebrows.

"You'll be fine." Bethany said, as if reading my thoughts. My eyes found her face in the mirror, but she wasn't looking at me.

I was so scared about meeting the pack, I barely recognized that she had stopped brushing my hair and was now fixing it properly over my shoulders. The black curls shined like ribbon.

I swallowed thickly. "How do you know?"

She looked at me and I noticed something odd in her eyes. After a moment Bethany smiled tiredly, "You're Charlotte Wayland." It was clear that statement was meant to reassure me somehow, but at the moment, it didn't. Bethany fiddled with a stray hair once more and then smiled more broadly. "Alright. You're all done."

Hesitantly sending her a smile in return, I heaved myself off the chair situated before the sink. To my horror, my legs and hands were shaking slightly. Bethany who seemed to avoid my look, walked into the bedroom; joining Bailey's and the Luna's voices.

"Pull yourself together." I whispered to myself, clenching my fists to try and stop the tremors. The nerves were still tingling inside, and I forced myself to take a deep breath. Wobbling slightly on my silver heels I followed the 'ooh-ing' and 'ah-ing' from beyond the bathroom door way.

Bailey was smiling happily in the full-length mirror propped up against the closest doors. She held on to the sides of her soft violet party dress swishing side to side. Bethany was sitting on the bed in her figure-hugging black dress, trying to fix her squealing daughter's hair. Gemma giggled as her mother half-heartedly scolded her.