It was okay when he did it in a music video. 

 

It was almost expected. After all, sells...and he was very y.

 

It was all right when he did it for the fans.

 

That was expected, too. After all, it was fan service. 

 

He was the king of it.

 

It was not okay when he did it while out with you. 

 

It was infuriating.

 

He would always tell you it was part of him, that he had to play the role. Sometimes you didn't even know if he could tell when he was doing it. 

 

You sat down heavily on your room chair, inching it closer to mirrored dresser. 

 

It was really risky to try this.

 

You ran the probability that bad things would erupt from this....what if he didn't care? What if he got so angry, he called you a ? Or...broke up with you?

 

You held your hand over your heart, the sudden painful twist of it surprising you. It would break you to be parted from him. As much as he annoyed you, you still loved the git. 

 

Your eyes slowly looked into the mirror, trying to determine if you had enough guts to do this. You saw your usual self, hair scraped back for a blank canvas, and no makeup touched your face. Your worried eyes stared back at you, wondering if you had enough guts. Wondering what to do. 

 

Setting your lips into a hard line, you nodded once to yourself. You had made your choice: No matter what the cost, you had to get your point across. 

 

There was no other way this was working. 

 

You looked along the top of the dresser, the products spread out on the surface. You had gathered everything you had thought you might need, even borrowing from some friends. In fact, nervously glancing at the closet, you surveyed the black dress hanging from a white hanger. 

 

You had obviously borrowed that from a friend. In one of your less awkward moments, you had gone out to a club with her. She had walked down the stairs into the dense club with it, and you swear you saw the boy's tongues hit the floor. 

 

She had been surrounded before she had reached the last step. 

 

You figured you would at least not be kicked out of the club...it was quite a number, though you didn't know how well you could pass it off.

 

It was a deep, deep V-neck, designed to go to your mid-stomach. It was supposed to pull in tight around your waist line. The fabric draped just slightly to hang in between your s, with only tiny little straps holding it up. You really wondered how they were going to stay in there...duct tape? It looked like someone could just nudge it aside... one slip, and they would be bare for the world to see. 

 

The waist band was a tiny silver chain that draped in the same fashion as the fabric. It looped twice and ended dangling from the right side. The skirt was short, the shortest you'd ever dared to wear; it would hit about mid-thigh, exposing almost everything. You would have to watch taking too large of steps – or bending over for that matter. It pleated like a school girl skirt, and had a lace overlay with silver accents. The overlay was just a smidge longer than the actual skirt, something you just knew you’d be fiddling with all night long. 

 

Forget his reaction! Would you have the courage to wear that out of the bathroom!?

 

The shoes were another story. You weren’t able to borrow a pair from anyone; your feet were a little different from all of your friends. But the same friend who had let you borrow the dress dragged you along to the mall for a “major overhaul”. 

 

If you had known what that meant before going, you would have locked yourself in the bathroom.

 

Six. Hours. Later. 

 

You had yourself a new pair of shoes. Not that you'd tell her, you did love the things. They were high heels, not as high as you would have expected her to go – only three inches – but she knew your history. They buckled at the sides with a small silver clasp, black with a tiny bit of lace folded over the top of the heels. 

 

Looking back on the dresser top, you went over in your head the things that you would need. 

 

The curling iron was there, along with the headbands, bobby pins, hair ties. You really hoped you wouldn't need all this, but just in case...

 

Mascara, multiple colors of eye shadow, black eyeliner, lip gloss, lip liner, lipstick, lip plumper... You pushed your fingers into your eyes. If you put all this on, you'd look like a ing clown. Blush and concealer... you knew you were not going to put either one of those on. Did your friends think you were ugly or something?!

 

Nail polish in black and silver, dozens of earrings, short and long, wide and narrow, necklaces that you were afraid would reach the floor and ones that would choke you. 

 

You had to shove everything tightly together to make sure it would all fit, neat and in order so you could select what you wanted. 

 

...Only you didn't have a clue what that was. 

 

 

About an hour later you had decided on at least a hair style: a gathered up-do, which let tendrils of your hair fall around your face. You gave up on taming the small pieces that curled behind your ears. It was just messy enough to look roll out of bed, but didn't look like you had really just done it. 

 

Your makeup had taken a bit more work. The smoky eyes look had taken three tries to get, maybe a breakdown or two. Finally you were satisfied with it, just glossing over your lips to not overload your face.

 

All this done after you had slipped on the dress.

 

Yet you had refused to look at it any farther than the top of your shoulders in the mirror for applying your makeup. In the bathroom you didn't have a full-length mirror; you didn't want to see it yet. You'd chicken out. You had figured out the secret behind keeping your s in place – a line of sticky tape edged the parts that attached to the s. You had felt odd about applying it to your skin... would it hurt like a band-aid coming off? After all that, you had found a place to put it, somewhere decent. After all that trouble, you had left it alone.

 

Now was the moment of truth. You had the shoes on, the long hose that came with them, brushing the edge of the skirt with thin lace. 

 

Take a deep breath, you half-wobbled, half-walked to the mirror, closing your eyes before it tightly. Throughout the whole process you had been cheering yourself on, hoping that you’d like what you saw. 

 

Opening them slowly you peered at yourself, biting your lip and surveying everything, readjusting where needed. Blowing breath out of your mouth, you slightly smiled at what you saw. 

 

It wasn't half-bad...it lay where it was supposed to, and even if you weren't as long and slender as your best friend, it still fit you. The longer necklace was the right idea; the thin silver chain dangled right between your s. You decided against earrings, knowing you'd just want to take them off moments later. 

 

All in all, it looked decent on you. You wouldn't turn all heads, but you'd get a few looks your way. Fluffing a bit of your hair out where it was supposed to be, you glanced up at the time. 

 

Your heart slammed against your chest.

 

You were supposed to be there...an hour ago.

 

 

Fuuuuuuccckkkkkk...