Paige
My makeup is gone after I leave the restroom. It couldn’t be saved. Five minutes ago, I looked like a panda and decided to remove it. I don’t know why, but sometimes when I’m sad, I shower or clean my face. It makes me feel less disgusting, as if the water can somehow wash away my shame, sadness, and depression.
But that isn’t the case today.
When Dallas looks up at me, his lips slowly part. He can definitely tell that I’ve been crying. My eyes are puffy, and my smile is wavering as I retake my seat.
“Haven’t they served us our food yet?”
“I told them to wait,” Dallas says without removing his eyes from mine. I’m already uncomfortable by how intently he is looking at me.
“Oh…thank you.”
We say nothing else, and soon the food arrives. My pasta is amazing, but Dallas’ steak loo
