you did it. somehow cracked drew tanaka, certified aphrodite queen bee, like a glittery lip-glossed egg. all it took was asking her for love advice about some brawny ares boy, and boom— less venom, more sweetness.

now it’s a month later and she’s perched beside you on her velvet-stupid bed, eyeliner wand in hand like it’s a magic wand.

“makeovers are always fun,” she chirps, the way girls in movies do before summoning a montage.

but then she pauses. really looks at you. head tilted, lashes fluttering.

“you don’t need all of this though, you’re already pretty.”

like it’s casual. like she didn’t just crack your self-esteem open and plant a compliment right in the middle.