𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲 | roger taylor

XVIII

"You're sure about this?"

I inclined my body backwards, giving the blonde a visible glare, as if to say trust me. "It'll look great, I promise," I said with confidence, leaning towards him again to steady the corner of his jaw in my hand. We were currently crammed into our tiny bathroom, my roommate perched on the closed toilet seat and me crouched in front of him, my bag of cosmetics splayed out on the sink.

Obediently, Roger stayed quiet as I carefully drew the eyeliner around his already oversized blue eyes, lining them with the black pen, making them stand out against the planes of his face. I leaned back to admire my work, smiling pleasantly. "Lovely."

Roger's eyes fluttered open, and he nearly galloped to the mirror to view himself. "Not bad," he said generously, squinting at himself. "Are you done?"

I blew out a thoughtful breath. "I can always add a little cover-up. You know, brighten you up a little bit. Although I'm not sure we're the same shade..."

Eagerly, Roger sat back on the toilet seat, tilting his head back to give me full permission. "Go ahead. It'll be a long night, anyway, right? I'll wanna look... fresh, I guess."

Nodding, I fished around in my bag for my lightest concealer, dotting it carefully on the major points of his face. I took a small brush to blend it into his skin, which was already pretty clear by itself.

"When Freddie sees me, I'll never hear the end of it," he told me. "He's always trying to get us to use makeup more often."

"If I do a good job, he won't notice at all," I said, just as I was blending the last bit. "Done."

Roger didn't spring up from his seat this time- instead, his eyes narrowed as he observed me. Then, he gently reached up to take the crescent moon charm of my necklace in between fingers, watching it closely. He hummed. "You're wearing it."

"Of course."

"Looks good." Finally, he stood, and loped to the mirror once again. This time, I joined him, nitpicking the final touches to my outfit. I was wearing my favorite black dress- as usual- paired with skinny heels, black tights, and the necklace Roger had given me. I pulled at the neckline of my dress, hiking it up from where it had scooped a bit too low for my liking. "Are you ready?"

I paused, silently cursing myself that I hadn't told him earlier of my plans. "I don't need a ride, actually. I'm getting picked up."

"Oh? By who?"

I gave an expectant smile, flashing teeth. "Stephen."

Something brief flickered in his eyes, and then he visibly frowned, suddenly apathetic. "Again?"

"What do you mean, again?"

Roger shrugged, his expression impossible to read as he twirled on his heel and out into the hallway. I followed after him. "You hardly know him! He could be, I don't know, a murderer or something."

"I work with him."

He turned to face me, shaking his head with his nose tipped in superiority. "I'm gonna stop talking, now. Oh, and it looks like your ride is here." Sure enough, the grumble of a car was audible outside, and with a quick glance in the window I recognized it as Stephen's.

"I'm not done," I continued, my chest twisting, eager for an argument that was long overdue. "This isn't any different from the piles of girls you bring home. How come I'm not allowed to go out with a guy I like?"

"I didn't say you weren't allowed-"

"You're acting like it's some huge problem. First, the stunt with spilling the drinks, and now this. Why can't you be excited for me? Fuck, I help you pick up girls. Where's that attitude when it comes to me, huh?"