ROUGH DRAFT of Loser || WlW

Forty

  Her minty breath sends goosebumps up my neck. "Stop moving," she orders and places her hand on the back of my head to hold me there. "Jesus, Jordan. Have you ever worn makeup? Stop twitching." Brittany laughs.

"I don't like this... This thing you're doing with my eyes." I pull my head back and look at her. We're both sitting on the edge of my bed, my body facing forward, but she cups my face in her hand and turns my head to face her.

"It's called mascara and I'm already halfway done. I can't stop now. Come here." She pulls my face close to hers, her eyes focused on mine, my eyes level with her lips. Her lips purse into a sort of smile. "Stop thinking about it so much."

"What am I supposed to think about?" I'm not thinking about the makeup. I'm more focused on her proximity to my face, the smell of her perfume, sharp and professional but not overbearing, the way her cold hands feel against my skin, the way her blue eyes and full lips look this close.

I can't believe I ever thought she was average.

She nods toward the bathroom but continues working. "Is this the same house your mom tried to murder you in?"

"Mm, a very light topic."

She smiles but we're careful not to move too much.

"Yeah, this is it," I answer.

"Shit," she whispers. "And you shower in there?" Her cheeks flush pink. It's so minor, I wouldn't have noticed if I were an average distance away from her.

"Almost every day."

She pushes my shoulder with the hand that's still clutching the mascara brush. "You know what I mean. It doesn't bother you?" She continues doing my makeup.

"It used to." I almost shrug but remember a single movement could ruin Brittany's progress. "It was ten years ago, so I've mostly worked through my fear of water. Unless the power goes out." My tone drops with the last part.

"The power?" Brittany moves to my next eye.

"Yeah, that's how she did it. I was in the bath and then the lights went out and then I just felt her hands around my neck pushing me underwater."

"What stopped her from killing you?" she asks.

"I'm not sure," I admit. "It's all kind of fuzzy now."

"It was me," Zachary chimes from the doorway. "I can't believe you don't remember. I tried to run at her and she flipped me into the water next to you. Started drowning us both but I fought back enough that Dad heard. You can thank me anytime."

Brittany rests a hand on her chest. "So heroic."

She's joking but it goes over Zachary's head. He blushes, smiles at her, and ducks out of the hallway. "Poor guy," she says, turning to finish my mascara. "He likes me, huh?"

It's breaking every sibling code ever but I shrug, "Yeah, kinda."

"Let him down easy," she says. "Tell him I have untreatable STDs or something." She does one last touch to the makeup and says, "Okay, you're done," as she pulls a small mirror out of her makeup bag and holds it for me to examine her work.

"Damn, Brittany," I say, moving the mirror to see better. "I look like I've slept more than nine hours this week."

She rolls her eyes. "Go change. I want to see the finished product."

I grab a stack of clothes we decided might fit and make my way to the bathroom, staring at the bathtub for an extra second before I close the door behind me. Zachary's white button-up is a little snug on the hips but looks great tucked in. I tie his bow tie around my neck and flip the collar down before pulling some black pants on. The outfit looks formal enough besides the shoes. I'm stuck with my old Converse.