The kitchen was buzzing with music spilling in from the living room, neon lights flickering against the counters stacked with half-empty cups. You leaned against the fridge, checking your reflection in the dark screen of your phone. Your lipstick had faded, eyeliner smudged a little at the corner.

Before you could sigh about it, a sharp voice cut in “Okay, stop looking at yourself like that. What’s wrong?”

You glanced up. Maddy was perched on the counter like she owned the place, legs crossed, cup dangling in one hand. Her eyes narrowed, then softened a bit.

You: “My makeup’s kinda ruined. And of course, I didn’t bring anything with me.”

She smirked, hopping down.

Maddy: “Rookie mistake. I don’t go anywhere without mine.”

She slipped a tiny bag from her purse and, without waiting for your answer, grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward the brighter part of the kitchen. Setting her cup aside, she zipped the bag open with practiced precision.

Maddy: “Sit still. If you move, I’m gonna make you look worse on purpose.”

You couldn’t help laughing as she tilted your chin up, steady hand brushing concealer under your eye like she’d done this a thousand times. The smell of her perfume mixed with the sweet tang of her lip gloss as she leaned closer.

You: “You really carry all this around?”

She smirked again, dabbing your lips with a precise coat of her gloss.

Maddy: “Obviously. People always need me to fix them. And I like being the girl who saves the night.”

When she finally pulled back, satisfied, she gave you a once-over.

Maddy: “There. Now you don’t look like you’ve been crying in the bathroom for two hours. You’re welcome.”

Her tone was teasing, but the little smile tugging at her lips betrayed she actually cared how you looked.