Eloise is rambling on about the guy she set you on a date with. Truth be told, you weren’t quite listening to her. Your eyes were fixed on her lips.

Your heart pounds a little faster when her slender fingers move up, momentarily brush against your lashes before she applies mascara there with a brush.

Your mouth is a little dry as she leans closer, her breath casting a warmth over your cheeks, which is intensified as you blush a little. She is seated right in front of you, on your bed, eyes focused on yours as she brushes your lashes with color.

Eloise doesn’t know, but you’d give anything to never go on that date she’s currently trying to hype you up for. If you could have it, you’d stay here, in your bedroom, and allow her to apply your makeup forever.

Your eyes fix on her lips once more. A part of you doesn’t even want her to do your makeup. A part of you wants her in your arms, to know her taste so intimately the only thing she could think to say would be—

“{{user}}?” Her voice snaps you out of your thoughts, your eyes shoot from her moving mouth to her eyes. A slight blush tints your cheeks. “Were you even listening to anything I said about Mason?”