Prompt Writing

Change in the Weather/Goosebumps

She was a troublemaker, no doubt about that. All the blue-noses and "Valedictorian prudes" as she dubbed them called her a harlot, said she had no self-respect and would be the cause of a broken generation.
Her skirt ended well above her knees, her lips were dark red and meticulously painted, she got her hair sheared just at her chin every second Friday. She flashed the kind of daring smiles that made anyone over the age of forty to grumble under their breath and anyone around her age to swoon.
They gathered in crowds which would soon become too much for her to gossip about her dancing, and how her singing voice was deep and sultry. In the beginning, she made eye contact with everyone watching her, but as time passed she gazed at the back wall and tried to ignore how the lights pressed down on her heart and made her throat close up.
When she walked down the streets with her friends, neither of them daring to cut their necklines as low as hers, boys grinned at her and hollered. She never gave a second thought to those kinds of men- she tilted her chin up a bit higher and brushed back her hair. Most of the girls waved and smiled at her; they only wished they could be as brave as her.

She thought nothing could unsettle her. And, until a certain someone, nothing could.

The girl's hair was long and dark; twisted into intricate braids at the nape of her neck. She wore no lipstick, her dress hung to her ankles, black and shimmery. Her perfume was strong and smelled of pomegranates. This girl was nothing she was used to, and she found that the girl's presence at her shows helped her shift her eyes away from the wall and towards the gazes which stared up at her.
She approached the girl after passing her cigarette to a boy trying to sweet-talk her, with her hips swaying and a glamorous smile on her face. When she walked up, all the girl said was,

"Try again when I see you as you are."

The girl took calculated steps away and she was left by the bar, bewildered, impressed, and remarkably attracted.

She searched every crowd, but the girl was not there for weeks. When she appeared again, it was at a smaller, more personal venue. The girl's hair was down, long and swinging, wildly curly. She felt the goosebumps run up and down her arms.
Once her set finished, she nearly sprinted off the stage and into her dressing room, changing as fast as she possibly could into the clothes she wore when no one was around. The skirt was periwinkle, the blouse purest white. She pulled the feathered headband off her golden head and brushed through her hair with her fingers, wiping off her dark lipstick with the back of her hand. She sped out, hoping the girl would still be there.

She was.

The girl looked elegant and poised as ever, holding her head almost royally- the way she never could. The girl turned slowly, a smirk pulling at her lips. The girl held out a hand, nails painted black as her dress. Her eyes lit up, and she thrust her hand out excitedly.

They were jubilant, the girl finally smiled, really smiled, and she ran her hands through the girl's long hair and across her face and placed her fingers over the girl's eyelids. The girl wrapped her arms around her and said that she could tell she wasn't as bright as she pretended, and the smile melted away, and so did the wall around her mind, and in the girl's arms she collapsed. The girl held her and caressed her cheek and whispered the sweetest things in her ear as she sobbed and it was such a big change from the endless isolation she knew-

And yet, it felt so perfect to her.