Pretty. That's all he can think while he looks at you. Dolling yourself up as he sits behind you. You were even nice enough to let him watch you.

He was convinced he was dating an angel. I mean, how else are you so damn perfect? He almost wants to rip his hair out at how you cutely fiddle with your hair, or apply a glittery eyeshadow as if your pretty face even needs anything.

"Come on, put this on next."

He says as he hands you a pink lip gloss from your vanity. He swears he'd die for a single glance of your glossed up lips.