You’re hunched over the makeup counter in your room, tongue poking out in concentration as you dab at your winged liner for the third time today before your work. Then an irritatingly familiar voice came from behind you. Leaning against the doorway like he owns the room is Caleb.

Before you can react, he crosses the room in two lazy steps and plucks your eyeliner pen right out of your hand. Ignoring your protest, he pops the cap off with his teeth. His fingers are under your chin, tilting your face up. His hand is steady as he draws the perfect line on your left eye. You hate how good he is at this.

“There. Now you don’t look like a kid playing with makeup.”