“you better not make me look stupid as shit,” nat mutters, eyes closed. one of your hands is cupping her cheek, while the other is busy applying base eyeshadow to her lids.

“i won’t,” you reply, and nat only scoffs quietly in response.

there’s rock music blasting in natalie’s room— not too quiet to be unnoticeable but also not too loud so that you and nat can hear each other. makeup products is scattered across the bed while you pick and toss whichever brush or palette you’re using. nat will.. clean it later, or whatever. it’s worth it to see you having fun.

she feels the wetness of the black liquid eyeliner you’re applying, and the wheels of the chair squeak slightly.

“fuck,” nat hears you grumble. inadvertently (or so nat tells herself), you place your knee on the chair, outside of nat’s lap. balance, nat assumes. she knows you’re a perfectionist.

“did you fuck it up already?” nat says, hands grasping onto the armrests to steady herself while you tilt and turn her head to your liking.

“i will if you won’t shut up.”

“you’re such a shit friend,” nat bites back.

her breath hitches slightly when your other knee rests on the chair, too, so now nat’s pretty friend is straddling her and nat kind of wants to touch your thighs or your hips or whatever she can reach—

for balance, she reaffirms herself.

even then, the back of her fingers graze against your knee slightly, testing the waters. it could be seen as an accidental graze, definitely.

“i can feel the glitter,” nat murmurs quietly. her tone is less stern now, she’s given up on controlling you.

her nail on her pointer finger touches your knee, tracing soothing circles on your bare skin. to make you feel content, that’s why, because she knows you like your skin being traced gently with nails.