I didn't realize how much I loved him until he wasn't mine to love anymore.
~*~
Mia is a girl oblivious to love. Emotionally broken.
Lucas is a boy who is somehow always happy.
This is a short story about Mia trying to regain Lucas's heart and atte...
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I smile so wide that it's almost painful. My cheeks hurt. My eyes sting. My heart crumples.
After our Show Choir concert was finished, I arranged for Evan—a guy in chorus—to ask Danielle to prom. Having never been asked by a guy before, she was desperate for the experience. I planned everything out and it was worth it to see her grin and her brown eyes light up. Her and Evan have been good friends since Freshman year, but I was determined to get them together, as much as Danielle insisted they were only friends.
If my love life was hopeless, I might as well give my best friend a push.
Now, I sit in a chair at the hair salon, watching as the lady wraps my golden-brownish hair around a curler for a few seconds, before the curl bounces as it falls. A perfect ringlet. Not a hair out of place. My eyelids droop with exhaustion. Her fingers are in my hair, massaging my scalp. The relaxation of my usually tense muscles lulls me to sleep for a brief moment before I jerk my head up, my eyes wide. I'm in a public place. I need to stay awake.
An hour later, my hair is pinned up into a bun at the back of my head, a few strands loosely curled to frame my face. A loose braid wraps around the right side of my head, tangling itself in the bun. I observe my makeup-free face in the mirror and frown. I don't usually wear my hair up, not appreciating how I look. But this bun is beautiful. The question is, am I beautiful enough for this bun?
I pay the lady, tipping her $5 before walking out to my car. I harmonize with my musical playlist as I drive home, careful not to lean back too much on my seat. Hopefully the bun will hold well until tonight is over. I exit my car and listen to my mom marvel over how gorgeous my hair is. I smile and nod, too exhausted to do anything else. She insists that she helps me with my eye makeup, so I oblige. Soon, my lids are covered in gray and brown eye shadow, giving me a Smokey eye look.
When she runs to the store for errands, I brush mascara over my eyelashes, watching as they turn from blonde to black. Then I line my eyes with brown eyeliner, but only a little. I step back and notice how my blue eyes pop, contrasting with my dark makeup and pale skin.
For a split second, I run my eyes over my complexion in the mirror, allowing myself to feel pretty. Then come the dark thoughts, always back again. Always overpowering hope. My shoulders sag and I look away, unable to look at myself any longer.
Kind of pretty, kind of ugly. My brain taunts me. I sigh. She's not wrong.
I snap out of my thoughts as I hear the garage door slam from downstairs. I scurry down the stairs, afraid that my mom might have fallen. Instead, my eyes lay upon piles of grocery sacks lying on the ground.
"Do you need any help?" I question.
She shoots me a soft smile. "A bit of help would be nice." She pauses to glance over my makeup covered face. Her smile turns to a grin. "You look beautiful, honey."
