Finding Life | Finders Keepers #2 ✔️

3. Sober

Blythe

Where are you? We're here.

              Placing my phone in my black purse, I take a last look of myself at the mirror. It's taken a while but I've finally achieved in letting my brunette hair fall past my shoulders without wanting to cut it off. I've had a pretty bad habit of cutting my hair off when I'm sad, and it took me a while to gain control of myself to not do it.

              I look good, I've got to admit. I was wearing a lipstick that has "Vamp Red" stamped into it, and I thank Chloe again, for teaching me on how do makeup because I finally was able to make my eyeshadow not look hideous on my second try. It was a smokey copper red with giving myself winged eyeliner that took too many tries. But, none of the mistakes are seen and it looked like I didn't do a lot of effort on it.

              Aces.

              My phone starts vibrating with texts and I immediately know that it's Dean. Getting impatient as always.

              With my heels secured around my feet, I use the elevator and walk out of the building, holding my hair immediately when the wind started going wild. Reaching the black civic hatchback car that was all too familiar for me, I open the back seat and slide in slowly, careful not to hike up my dress.

              "Hi, Blythe," Grace turns her head to me, letting me see her perfect makeup—shiny gold eyeshadow, with small cat wing, and a dark lipstick that suited her heart-shaped lips. She glances up at me and what I'm wearing before giving me a smirk, "You look... nice."

              When Grace says "nice" it usually means the opposite when it came to her.

              I cock a brow, watching her lean into her seat. Dean ignores her and continues to gaze at me through the rear-view mirror. "Go change, will you?"

              He doesn't approve. He thinks it's too revealing.

              "Dean," I warn him. "You know damn well how I feel about people telling me what to wear. I'm okay with following your orders sometimes since it suits me but with what I do with my body is my choice. Now, are we going to go to the party or do you want me to just call myself an Uber?"

              "Uber," Grace pipes up, grinning from ear to ear like Cheshire cat. "I vote for Uber."

              Dean shakes his head, not saying anything, and starts the car.

              It was too much of a quiet drive inside the car. Grace wanted to play some music and Dean let her without much protest, and she starts playing Taylor Swift in the car. I'm not really a fan of Taylor Swift, but I do like her music so I bob my head to the beat, sometimes mouthing the words. I knew that Dean wasn't really pleased that I wore a dress like this, he thinks that it's unlike me.

              But I disagree, I'd say it's me.

              The only time he saw me wear a dress was when it was our graduation. I wear a white dress that hugged around my chest and was flowy by my waist. It was comfortable to wear, and I decided to keep it. Shopping isn't really my style and since Chloe was a fashion designer, clothes were much accessible to get to. She'd let me keep something I would borrow.

              I like fashion and makeup and I also like dangerous stuff.

              People aren't black and white that men would say "most girls aren't like you." It's bullshit. Most girls are like some parts of me and some parts of me are like most girls.