The Make-Up Artist: Part 2

Chapter Eighteen: Back to New York

You hardly sleep at all that night. After taking an hour to agonize over what to pack for one night away, showering, and then staying up well into the night worrying about whether you're making a mistake by going, you barely get in two hours of sleep. Finally giving up around 4:00 am, you drag yourself out of bed to get yourself ready; opting for a pair of skinny jeans, an oversized ivory flowy blouse and peep-toe booties. You notice that the bottom edge of the right heel has come apart at the corner from the main part. Time to get new shoes apparently, but they will do for now. Your outfit is a little dressier than your usual jeans and t-shirt look for work, but you always thought it was better to look nice when flying. You're not really sure why. Probably something to do with your mom feeling that way as well. It could also have something to do with whom you are flying with, but you ignore that detail. You apply a bit of light make-up, being sure to pay a little extra attention on the slightly darkened circles under your eyes, and pull your hair up into a stylish "messy" bun. You're all packed and ready to go by 4:45, so you decide to walk to the coffee shop that is just a block away, knowing that they open at 4:00 and that you will be needing an extra does of caffeine today.

It's eerily quiet in the dark and empty early morning streets. The sun hasn't even begun to rise and without a single car passing by, it's almost as if you're the only person left in the city. It's actually quite cathartic and you make a mental note to consider early morning jogs from now on. You immediately chuckle at yourself, knowing that the ONLY reason you would ever willingly get up this early is if Taron Egerton was coming to pick you up to whisk you away somewhere exciting. Thinking of Taron brings you back to memories of your time together yesterday and how it was almost ruined at the end. How could he even have thought about kissing you? What would've happened if you'd let him? The worst part is that you wanted him to. God, you really wanted him to. You shake that thought from your head as you enter the coffee shop, and the lone barista behind the counter looks up to smile sleepily at you. You order drinks with extra shots of espresso for yourself, then stand at the counter to wait. You pull your phone out to check the time and see that you have a text from Taron.

Taron: Good morning sunshine. Be there in 5.

Crap. That text was sent five minutes ago. Luckily the barista hands you the drink tray with the coffees so you take them, thank her, then head off quickly back in the direction of your apartment. You are slightly out of breath from your brisk walk and quick sprint up the stairs all while balancing the coffees, when you reach your door to find Taron leaning against it, looking down at his phone. He wears a troubled expression until he looks up when he hears you, and instantly the features of his face relax as he smiles shyly at you.

"Hey", you say, still catching your breath.

"Hey. I thought you...nevermind. Where were you?" He asks, eyeing the coffees.

"Woke up early so I thought I'd grab us coffee", you reply, pulling his out of the holder and handing it out to him.

"Oh, thank you", he says as he accepts it. "You ready?"

"Yes, just need to get my bags", you say, indicating the door. He steps aside to let you unlock the door and enter the apartment, then follows you inside. Your two bags are placed neatly beside the door, one overnight rolling bag and your make-up bag of course. His jacket is still draped across the sofa where you dropped it last night and he motions to it.

"Need this?" He asks, making a move to retrieve it.

"No, I have one in my bag", you answer, slinging your make-up bag over your shoulder.

"Oh, ok", he says, sounding slightly disappointed. "Here, I'll take that", he says, motioning toward the bag weighing down your arm.

"It's ok, I've got it. You can get that one", you reply, pointing to the rolling bag. He nods, then picks up the handle to carry it down the two flights of stairs. You lock your door and then follow him down.