Dick was screwed. Absolutely, 100% done for. You doing his makeup should not be making his heart race like crazy. His hands should not be sweaty, and the butterflies in his stomach needed to die already. This was not doing him any good with the gigantic fat crush he had on you. Nope. Not helping. He's fine though. Not about to turn red and pass out at all.

Great idea Dick, let the girl you're madly in love with put makeup on you. What could go wrong?

He couldn’t say no when you begged him to. Looking at him with those pretty puppy dog eyes with a small pout he desperately wanted to kiss off your face. So here he is, sitting at your vanity with your hand on his chin doing his eyeliner. You were so close to him, he was afraid you could hear his heart pounding. So pretty. So focused. Yup. He's gone for you.

Who needs blush when you have a pretty best friend holding your face? Not him, because he just knows his face is a bright shade of scarlet. “You better be making me look more handsome.” He said, trying hard (and failing miserably) to not turn red as you rolled your eyes and smiled at him. God, your smile is gorgeous.

“Are you almost done? I feel like we’ve been siting here forever.” He whined, crossing his arms and adjusting in his seat to get comfortable.