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Out of Your League

Page 22

by Portia MacIntosh

‘Great – I’ll explain when you get in,’ he tells me. ‘Thanks, Brooke.’

‘Great,’ I say. ‘See you soon.’

I hang up and, for a moment, I lie perfectly still. Oh, what I’d give to be able to fall back asleep. I booked myself in for two nights, to give myself a chance to sleep and to figure things out. I need this job, so I need to make myself get up and go, but I’m sure I look how I feel – like I stayed up most of the night crying. I’d love to try to sleep it off, but I need to make a move.

I practically throw off the duvet and pull myself to my feet. So, how am I going to make this work? Because I’m wearing yesterday’s clothes – ones that he saw me in – and the remnants of yesterday’s make-up which cannot possibly look good now. It looks like most of it is on the pillow.

I plod into the bathroom and flick on the light. I practically hiss like a vampire as the brightness makes my eyes sting. It’s no relief when I finally do see my reflection though, because I look rough. My curls are a little flatter on one side – presumably the side I slept on. Both sides of my hair look okay on their own, but they don’t match. My make-up is – there’s no other way to put it – a horror show. My first task is going to have to be buying face wipes to get rid of what little is clinging on, because I look like a member of Slipknot.

This is going to be fun, because everything I own is at Ron’s flat. I have a lipstick and a small concealer in my bag – nowhere near enough to make up a full face – but no clean clothes, no deodorant, no toothbrush. I had some minty chewing gum and some floss in my bag, so I used those before I went to bed, but it’s nowhere near the same as brushing my teeth.

I’ll have to pop to the shops, pick up some necessities, some clothes to change into – I’m not sure what to do make-up-wise though, because replacing every single item at once will almost certainly financially destroy me. I’ll never recover from it.

I definitely need new clothes because Bryan saw me in these a matter of hours ago. I know, some men probably wouldn’t notice, but I don’t want to take the risk.

My elbow is hurting but I’m trying not to think about it. It’s sore, but I can use it. I just need to try to get on with things.

Oh, I know what I’ll do. There’s a make-up bar in the shopping centre where you can get a full face. I know, it’s not exactly a special occasion, but I do want to make a good impression, and it’s much cheaper and quicker than buying it all again.

With little I can do here, it doesn’t take me long to head out. The first thing I do is get some clothes – a black skirt and a cream blouse – and then I grab basic toiletries before getting cleaned up and changing in the shopping centre loos.

I place last night’s clothes in the shopping bag I just took the new items from. Do you know what? I’ve scrubbed up okay. It’s just the make-up that needs sorting and then I’m good to go.

The shopping centre is busy, like it always is on a Saturday, so I’m relieved to arrive at the make-up bar and see a girl waiting for a customer to drop by.

She has the most gorgeous copper hair, perfectly applied make-up (which is a good sign) and nails so long I wonder how she functions. Her name badge says: Cassie.

‘Hello,’ I say as I approach her. ‘I spent a night in a hotel last night and forgot my make-up, and I’m starting a new job today, so I need to make a good first impression. I wondered if you could make me look a little more human, please.’

She laughs at my joke but her smile drops when her eyes meet mine.

‘Oh, honey,’ she says instantly. ‘Those are eyes that have been crying all night.’

It takes all my willpower to stop my bottom lip from wobbling. Why is that? Why does someone pointing out that you’ve been crying make you want to cry even more?

‘Oh, I’m fine,’ I say. ‘I just… My boyfriend and I broke up last night.’

Cassie raises a perfectly crafted eyebrow.

‘Sit down,’ she says softly.

She gets to work almost right away, cleansing my face so she can begin.

‘His fault or yours?’ she asks. ‘Although I can already tell from your face – his, right?’

I look at her in the mirror and nod.

‘I caught him cheating on me,’ I tell her – well, what more info does she need?

‘Bastard,’ she says. ‘I’ll never understand men who cheat – especially the ones with gorgeous girlfriends.’

I smile. She’s a pro at this, saying all the right things.

‘And you said you’re starting a new job today?’ she checks.

‘Yep. In an industry he works in, so… I guess I just want to make sure I look good,’ I reply.

‘Say no more,’ she insists. ‘I’m going to make you look a million bucks. He’s going to regret the day he blew it with you, sis, don’t you worry.’