Falsies (The Makeup Series Book 1)

by Olive East

  “Since when are you such an expert on fake IDs?” I inspected it closely, trying to memorize Kayla Rashner’s information—because that’s what they always did on TV—while simultaneously keeping an eye on the house across the street. I couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing and if he had plans for the night. Was he dating anyone? Did he cook for her and make her fall for him without even trying?

  Because it wasn’t just a twenty-first birthday, we were required to wear black dresses and hot pink heels—both of which I had to buy new because I didn’t have acceptable ones. Sadie wanted us to match, as if all the penis paraphernalia wouldn’t do that, but mostly I think she wanted her silky white dress to stand out.

  And she did stand out. I tried to look good in my body-hugging—well, body-hugging to me—black dress and too-high-for-comfort heels. They turned out to be a necessity because of the fake ID, but I only felt out of place and unstable.

  The other maids sat on the bus with their legs tightly crossed, shiny rings on that important finger, and perfectly straightened hair. When I realized all the other girls on the bus were married or engaged besides me and Mariah, it gave me at least a little more insight into Sadie’s desire to rush into a wedding.

  I never considered myself a painfully shy person until I was sitting in a crowded and loud bar with a group of women I couldn’t find a thing to say to. As Sadie’s cousins and college friends prattled on about wedding colors and registries and flowers and tuxes and dresses and all the other things that should be discussed at a bachelorette party, I thought about going home and crawling into bed.

  They were all nice. Each of them was a lovely lady who went out of her way to try and include me in the conversation, but I couldn’t do it. It made me feel like a troll, sitting there in my too-tight dress and hands that couldn’t decide what they wanted to do. Small talk was always difficult for me, but with Mariah and the other girls it was impossible. I moved away from the group to be alone.

  When I was bored enough and I could hear my social insecurities asking to come out and play, I left our roped-off area of seclusion to find the bathroom. Sadie followed closely behind, because of course it was too much to ask to pee in freaking private.

  “Can you believe this is my bachelorette party?” she asked in my ear. While we were walking she was always scanning to see how many guys were checking her out.

  “No, I really can’t.” At least four that I saw. But to be fair, it was a club and that was the point, right?

  “Ya know, you really should be my maid of honor. I would never have met Aaron if it weren’t for you,” she yelled as we zigzagged through the crowd in the low light.

  There was a lot wrong with that sentence and it broke rule number one of our friendship: don’t talk about Aaron. I waited till the graffiti-covered bathroom door shut so I wouldn’t have to shout to answer her.

  “You only have one first cousin. It should be her,” I answered, ignoring everything else she said.

  “You don’t have any close female relatives, unless you count Karl’s daughters, and I know you don’t, so what’ll you do?”

  The grimy mirror and unforgiving florescent lights offered little help in retouching makeup, but Sadie still tried.

  “I probably won’t get married,” I said, securing my already secure lashes.

  “What?” She cackled. “Why not?”

  “I’m not even dating anyone.” I hovered by the door, ready to bolt.

  “That’s because you’re not even trying. If you’d try, you’d date like crazy.”

  “You make it sound so easy.” It wasn’t for me, anyway. What did trying even mean?

  “Ollie, it is.” She turned away from the mirror to stare at me blankly.

  “I don’t know. Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t.” Who would want me for life? Honestly, I couldn’t imagine that scenario. To me the chances of getting married were about the same as winning the lottery. Then add a happy marriage and the chances became the same as winning the lottery twice in one year.

  “Well, that’s stupid. Every girl wants to be married.”

  “Well, that’s sexist, and I just want to be happy,” I mumbled.

  She narrowed her sharp eyes and studied me for a long minute. “You’re really pretty, Ollie.” It was a total Mean Girls moment—was I supposed to say thank you? “You don’t have to be single right now.”

  “Thanks.” Like it was by my choice. There wasn’t a line of gentlemen callers outside my door, and with Aaron it was leave or be left. I did what I had to do. The idea of going out and meeting guys was so foreign.

  “Do you wish you were the one marrying Aaron? Is this where all your issues stem from?”

  The words floated around in the grimy air before finally settling in my ears and leaving me speechless. The breath was completely knocked out of my lungs like I’d just been sucker punched. I didn’t know she felt that way, because I always followed rule number one to the letter.

  Maybe if we had a healthy relationship we would’ve had the messy and emotional talk about giving her my boyfriend, but we didn’t. Maybe if we had a decent relationship we would’ve had at least one conversation when they got engaged, but we didn’t. Now, there we were, with the wedding quickly approaching, and she finally, finally wanted to ask me how I felt about it?

  With Herculean effort, I tried to keep all my emotions from darting across my face. I watched Sadie watching me, and before I could answer, she did.

  “Never mind. I know that’s not true. Ignore me. I’ve already had too much to drink.”

  “It’s all right.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  Sadie gave me a big, phony, teeth-displaying smile, then excused herself to a stall. “I think I have cold feet.”

  I wasn’t sure if she was drunk or not, but I wanted to believe she was. But even if she was, drunk words are sober thoughts, and Sadie had just given me a lot to think about.

  Ditching her in the bathroom, I headed back to the group through the somehow even more crowded corridor. When I got closer to our spot, I noticed our reserved area had grown considerably. It was easy to pick Aaron out of the group—it was like I could see his aura. Then I noticed Sadie’s and Aaron’s older brothers as well as their cousins. The complete bridal party had made it out for the night.

  Wonderful.

  With each step, the towering figure in back of the cluster looked more and more like Brooks. I told myself it couldn’t have been anything more than a slight resemblance, wishful thinking, and my overactive imagination. But I’d be damned, it was him.

  He stood right behind the far-off stool where I’d been sitting, making me wonder if he knew that was my seat or if we picked the same spot out of coincidence. He appeared to be more uncomfortable than I felt, but somehow still managed to be the most attractive person I’d ever seen.

  The force pulling me to him was strong, but all the family members got to me first, then Aaron. He looked drunk and tired and angry and perfect all at once with his faded t-shirt and messy black hair. We hugged briefly, horribly, awkwardly, while Sadie, who had made it back from the bathroom while her family greeted me, watched the whole time.

  I can’t hear anyone in this place, he signed, then pointed to his ear. It sounds like everything is underwater.

  Don’t worry, I signed back. No one’s saying anything important anyway. His lips curved up.

  What kind of music are they playing? he asked.

  I paused a second to listen. He knew it was a bad sign if I couldn’t immediately answer. Bad house music. Like a Top 40 remix done by a group of fourteen-year-old wannabe DJs. Actually, consider yourself lucky you don’t have to be subjected to it.

  He laughed a real laugh and so did I. Then, out of nowhere, he pulled me into another hug. The second one was much better and lasted until Sadie snaked her arm around Aaron’s back. After that he sort of pushed me aside, making me feel like we’d been doing something wrong.

  When I was free to make my way to Brooks,
I hustled to the back corner before anyone else could stop me.

  “Hey,” Brooks said as he put out a hand to steady me. “You look great.”

  “Thanks, so do you.” And he did. His going-out clothes were black pants, a gray button down, and of course his fancy shoes. It was adorable and nerdy and sexy all at once. Were the gray and black chosen for my benefit? They were working if so. “What’re you doing here?”

  “Sadie invited me.” He ran his thumb across his bottom lip and squinted his eyes like he was bracing himself for my response.

  “And you came?”

  “Yes. For two reasons.” He took a long swig of his drink, which was too dark to be his usual vodka, ultimately finishing it. “Can I get you a drink? Actually, how’d you get in here?” He looked me over from head to toe in a gesture that let me know, yes, he was checking me out. “Never mind that. I know how you got in here.”

  “Yeah, a fake ID,” I said in a whisper only loud enough for his ears.

  He laughed low and sensual and said, “I hope you didn’t pay for it. You’re a hot girl and they always let hot girls in.”

  I almost didn’t believe he was talking about me. He told me I looked nice, called me a hot girl, and offered to buy me a drink. It was like he was getting his lines from a What to Say on a Date checklist and it couldn’t have made me happier.

  All I could do was pray my face wasn’t MAC Red as I picked up the full tequila and ginger ale I already had sitting on the table. “No thanks, but I’d like those reasons for coming.”

  “Well, one reason is”—he held up one long finger—“I haven’t seen you in a while, and the other is I wanted to.”

  I smiled hugely and thanked the makeup gods I actually looked good. “I’m glad you’re here.” It wasn’t what I wanted to say but it did express my sentiments. A braver girl would’ve told him he was hot too or something forward and sexy.

  “I don’t think Aaron feels the same way.”

  I looked over at Aaron from the corner of my eye. He was inspecting us, or maybe just me, but he seemed happy enough. As happy as any young groom who was forced into a joint bachelorette/bachelor/birthday party where the guest list included mostly the bride’s relatives.

  Aaron always managed to be happy, though. It was probably what drew me to him the most. If it weren’t for his quick and reckless impending marriage, I’d completely envy his life. Mr. and Mrs. Kim are loving, supportive, wonderful, and all the things parents should be. Despite growing up with the obstacles of being biracial and hearing impaired, Aaron had the ideal childhood. And that was what made me the most envious.

  “You know, this is the first time we’ve been together outside of my neighborhood. Before I saw you with Sadie that night, I was starting to think I imagined you,” Brooks said, bringing me back to reality.

  “And you couldn’t come up with anything better?” The words left my mouth before I could tell them not to. I blamed the alcohol, but it was just in my nature to self-deprecate.

  Brooks slid his empty, condensation-laden glass on the uneven table and took a step closer to me. The heady cologne he was giving off, combined with his intent gaze, hit me right between my legs. He leaned in before he spoke, but only got closer to my face, not my ear.

  “No. I can’t imagine anyone better.”

  My breath caught.

  My heart clenched.

  My stomach tightened.

  My thighs burned.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” I said.

  “I can’t believe you are.”

  Brooks took the tip of his finger and flicked the plastic penis suctioned to my glass, causing it to wobble and fall. We both laughed as it landed at my feet, but neither of us made a move to pick it up.

  “You didn’t peg me for a partier?”

  He shook his head. “You’re not that kinda girl, Ollie Oxmend.”

  “Tell me what kinda girl I am, then.” I leaned in even closer, letting his presence envelope me completely.

  “You’re the kind of girl who would rather have an intimate one-on-one conversation than dance at a crowded club. You’re the kind of girl who will call a guy on his BS without worrying about the ramifications it will have on his male ego. You’re the kind of girl who will make an older, yet very attractive and totally into-her guy work for her attention rather than throwing it at him, leaving that same guy intrigued and dying to get to know her better.”

  My breathing became downright labored. Was I that kind of girl? God, I wanted to be. “Sounds about right,” I said before taking a sip of alcohol.

  “Do you wanna get out of here?”

  “Is that a line?” I almost spit out my drink at that, it was so unexpected. When did he get so smooth?

  He looked positively devilish when he said, “Absolutely.”

  I was about to chug my drink and bolt with him before he changed his mind when Sadie clamped her spindly hand on my shoulder.

  “Hey, hey, sexy people. We’re going to the karaoke bar. Down those drinks and let’s vamos.”

  I’d never wanted to poke someone in the eye with a high heel more. Which coincidently was exactly what I would rather do to myself than sit in the karaoke bar.

  “Sounds great,” Brooks told her to my horror.

  “Oh, William, I knew we got along for a reason.” Sadie playfully patted his chest with her manicured fingers, lingering on his pec longer than I deemed appropriate. There was something off-putting about her engagement ring being so near Brooks. It just wasn’t fair that she got to feel his chest before I did, and even worse, he didn’t shake her off.

  The group ambled outside after an eternity of bill-settling and drunk-wrangling. The whole process was made somewhat tolerable by the fact that Brooks kept letting his hand trail from my lower back to the top of my butt. His large hands made my ample ass seem almost small, and every time he dipped particularly low I would blush like a fourteen-year-old girl on her first date.

  It was too cold for my dress to be worn without a coat, but I didn’t care—the alcohol and Brooks’s hands were making me hot.

  The maids and men both climbed aboard the monstrous pink neon party bus. We stood at the back of the pack while we waited for our turn, but when I was about to take my first step up to my doom, Brooks yanked my wrist.

  “Run,” he whispered in my ear as he slid my palm in his.

  I did as I was told. He pulled me behind him at a brisk pace with the wind and smell of the night hounding me. It was hard to keep up with my heels, the uneven brick sidewalk, and his long legs, but I did. Determination and sexual desire go a long way in aiding physical performance.

  With every person we passed—and on the crowded night we passed plenty—I wondered what they thought of our hand-holding. I so desperately wanted to be his, and in those fleeting seconds in strangers’ eyes I was Brooks’s girl. She was pretty and intelligent and had her shit together and the company of a brilliant man.

  I hated how much I loved that feeling , but I’d beat myself up over it later.

  When we turned the block, he slowed down but still held my hand. “I parked over here,” he informed me.

  “You didn’t take a cab with the rest of the guys?”

  “No. I wanted to drive myself.”

  “Why?”

  He squeezed my hand, making it feel tiny in his. “In case I wanted to leave quickly.” We slowed to a stop in front of a sleek white Lincoln with darkly tinted windows. “This is mine.”

  I could’ve guessed it was his car—it fit his essence perfectly. The new model also explained why it must’ve always been kept in the garage.

  Brooks, always being the gentlemen, opened and closed the door for me. It was clean inside, without anything littering the floor or hanging from the mirror—no surprise there—and smelled intoxicatingly of new car.

  “I actually thought you wanted to go to karaoke,” I admitted once he sat down behind the wheel.

  “I don’t sing,” he told me in a throaty voice
.

  “But you do dance,” I said with a raised eyebrow, trying to mimic him.

  “Yes, and do you know what that means?”

  “No. What?

  “I know how to move.” With that, he threw the car into drive and pulled away from the curb.

  The seemingly innocent string of words was anything but. I brought my hand to my face to try and conceal the blushing, but Brooks was glancing over at me whenever he could spare a second from the road, which turned out to be often.

  Forget becoming a famous tattoo artist and being able to live completely independently of my mom, my new dream was to find out just how well Brooks could move.

  He fiddled with a few of the glowing knobs on the dash until the temperature was more comfortable, then turned on some music. The volume was low but the song was upbeat, sultry, and being sung in another language.

  “Where are we going?” I eventually thought to ask.

  “Home.”

  Chapter Eleven

  I never imagined a thirty minute drive out to the suburbs was going to be what killed me. Fortunately, Brooks seemed to feel the death by long wait approaching too and was doing his best to prevent that. He drove at supersonic speeds, and I fleetingly thought about what would happen if we got pulled over.

  Surely the officer would understand.

  My phone, demanding to be heard, became too distracting to ignore anymore. I sent a text to Aaron telling him I was fine, then turned the damn phone off. I could’ve taken his interest as just plain old concern because no one knew where I was—though it wasn’t any of his business anyway—but I knew it was more than that.

  One second Brooks’s strikingly sexy long-fingered hand was on the steering wheel and then the next it was on my knee. There was a moment, a tangible moment, when the atmosphere in the car shifted. The tightly wound spring that had always been in my chest slowly loosened and I felt every brick I ever piled in my wall move aside. But perhaps the best thing that happened in that moment was that my mind quieted.

  Nothing and no one was telling me Brooks didn’t want me.