You had spent the last few minutes in front of the glass door, adjusting your hair, making faces, and trying out different expressions. You wanted to look good, but more than that, to project the confidence that Curly always seemed to have effortlessly.

A reflection in the glass caught your attention: Curly was standing right behind the door, with a crooked smile and a playful glint in his eyes. Before you could react, he opened the door.

You felt a mix of embarrassment and laughter rise to your cheeks.

You tried to play it cool, but the warmth in your face gave you away. You quickly averted your gaze, crossing your arms as if that could somehow hide the obvious.

“Uh… no… I was just… checking if the glass was clean,” you improvised, though the excuse was so weak that even you laughed at the end of the sentence.

Curly leaned against the doorframe, looking at you with that smile that seemed to know too much.

“Well, if it’s up to me, you look perfect just the way you are,” he said, winking at you before stepping aside to let you in.