Hennessey

7 - Sexy YN

Chapter 7

The next day, you were awoken by a loud knocking at the door. Kat, who was sleeping on your bedroom floor with a really bad hangover, groaned and moaned something that told you to get the door.

You yawned and tripped over the bags of clothing that had been lying on the floor near your bedroom door. You groaned and picked yourself up off the floor while the person at the door kept knocking.

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” you shouted. You opened the door, running your hand through your hair.

“Hello!” squeaked a spider-like woman. She was stick thin and extremely tall, needing to duck to enter. Her hair was curled and blue, and her eyes were a pale white. She had a golden star tattoo under her left eye, and her outfit was very professional. “I’m QD, and I’m your personal stylist, and these are Becky and Pearl.”

Behind QD was a short, round girl with frizzy red hair, and a tall man with a neck beard and glasses on the tip of his roman nose. You were just tired and wanting to go back to sleep.

Kat yawned loudly and came out of your room, making eye contact with QD, Becky, and Pearl. He shrugged and turned around to go to the bathroom. With a snap of QD’s fingers, all three began attacking you. You yelped as the guy went to the clothes bags near your room and grabbed a few clothes you didn’t recognize.

The short ginger girl attacked your face with mascara and makeup while the guy and QD were talking about the outfit.

“Yes, yes, yes. That’s very good, Becky. Grab the fur coat, too. Yes, this will look good.” You were extremely confused and wanting to scream. But you couldn’t. You didn’t want to cause a ruckus, especially for the people trying to make someone like you pretty. That in itself was a nearly impossible feat in your eyes.

Finally, you were done. Kat leaned against the doorway, coffee in hand and fully dressed.

“Damn, YN,” he said, sipping his coffee. “If you weren’t my sister-”

“Maybe then you’d know when to shut your mouth,” you hissed. He just chuckled into his coffee and walked away.

“Alright, everyone!” sang QD. “The young master will be arriving shortly to pick up the blushing bride! So it is best we make a break for it while we can. Pearl, Becky, out job here is done.”

The three beauticians left the apartment, leaving you sitting on the couch feeling like your face was four pounds to heavy. Your legs wore black lace nylons, your sleek red dress went down to your knees, your shiny black heels added another three inches to your height, and the softest white fur coat you had ever seen. The buttons were diamonds.

DIAMONDS, YN!

You didn’t dare move, as if a single sway of your shoulders could make the curls in your hair fall out and your makeup slide off your face like a slug. It was not good. So you didn’t move until you heard a distinct car horn outside. Grabbing your backpack and carrying it at your side, you exited the apartment building and saw Angel leaning against his car with sunglasses sitting at the tip of his nose.

“Hey, ugly,” he called. You grimaced, and this made him chuckle. “I’m kidding. You’re not that bad looking. With all that makeup, at least.” You tossed your backpack into the back seat.

“Just drive, asshole.” Angel sat in the driver seat while you sat in the passenger seat.

“You should be grateful. I brought you a gift.” You perked up. You always loved gifts. Except from self righteous assholes like your fiance. He handed you a white box with silver writing on the side.

As Angel began driving, you cautiously opened the box. You cast the lid to the side as your eyes landed on a sleek black screen, the screen of the brand new (newest phone). Your jaw dropped and your (e/c) eyes raced to Angel, who had a smug smirk on his face.

“Close your mouth or the flies will get out.” And just like that, all of your gratitude disappeared. You rolled your eyes and took the phone out of the box. Pressing the side button to turn it on, you realized that the lock screen was a picture of Angel, winking and blowing a kiss at the camera.

You glared at him as he began laughing, knowing exactly what was happening in your mind. You showed him the screen, but he didn’t even glance at it and kept his eyes on the road.

“What the hell, Angel,” you said, clearly unamused. He just smugly chuckled and continued driving. You unlocked the phone. There was no password. You were about to set a password, but a certain entitled fiance clicked his tongue at you.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he said, stopping you. “No password, YN.”

“But why?”

“Because no. Okay?” You rolled your eyes.

“Fine.” You humphed as the car came to a stop outside of your high school. You got out of the car and reached for your backpack in the back seat. Suddenly, Angel stopped you where you were.

“Nuh uh,” he said, reaching into the glove box. He pulled out a bag. You didn’t know the actual brand, but you knew it was name brand and expensive as all hell. “I’m not letting you go around embarrassing me with that stupid bag.”

“For your information, I like my bag.”

“Yeah? And I don’t care. You take this bag, and you go.” Rolling your eyes, but taking the bag, you left with the empty bag over your shoulder. You tried to blend in with the was really hard to do with the fur coat and the layers of makeup. “Hey, baby bear!’

All eyes around the entrance turned to the man standing in his white lambo, waving like a happy child to his guardian. Your face went red as you darted into the building. Angel triumphantly slid into his seat and started driving away.

Meanwhile, across the courtyard, Amanda leaned against the wall of the school. Popping the bright pink bubblegum in her mouth, she glared as you entered the building. A plan formed in her bleach soaked brain, a plan to take care of you and your sugar daddy.

You, of course, had no idea what was going to happen that day. As you weaved through the halls, you heard whispers fill the area around you.

“Who’s she?”

“Does she go here?”

“Have I seen her before?”

“Damn rich bitch.”

“Flaunting her money like that. No respect.”

“She’s kinda hot.”

“I’d tap that.”

You had half a mind to turn around and scream how it wasn’t yours, how you didn’t want this, to fall to your knees and cry and break.

But no, you couldn’t. And you didn’t. Because good girls don’t cry. Cover girls don’t cry when their face is made.

*****
DAAAAMMMMNNNN YN! You smoking hot, honey!

I'm super bored and lonely today, so... here's a second Chapter! Thank you! Also, thanks to Memelordo for help with the title!

Remember to comment and vote! Byyyyeee....