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“I could watch you all day,” came the familiar voice from her bed, the one that nearly called her back to the rumpled sheets and the satin pillows.
Evie cocked her head, her loose blue-black curls spilling over her bare shoulders, as she sat at her vanity. The mirror – a friend, in a fashion, but also a nemesis on some rough mornings – offered her a glimpse of the boy who lay in the bed, his hand tucked under his chin as he observed her starting her daily routine of skin and beauty care. His own hair, overlong and in need of a haircut she would administer herself in the coming days, fell over his nape in a way that nearly made her bite her lip back in want.
Behave, she chided herself, even though she supposed Doug’s gaze – lingering over the near-transparent material of her loose chemise, its sister robe discarded on the back of her chair – did little to curtail his own thoughts on how he might feel if she just abandoned her regimen to retreat back to the bed. Just a few footsteps, and she could feel his fingertips brush her skin right before her lips found his under the morning sunlight seeping through the curtains…
This time she bit her lip to hide a smile.
“And who said I was valued for more than just my beauty?” she asked, making a humming noise as she perused her vanity table full of different jars and products.
She wasn’t the only one fighting a smile. “Oh, I wasn’t talking about your beauty. I’m talking about your process,” he said. “You’re so methodical, like you’re concocting an experiment of some kind.”
This time Evie did smile – but she saved it for the mirror instead.
“It can’t be that much fun to watch a girl put on her make-up,” she said as she began to apply her moisturizer as a way to distract herself from the sight of the young man who seemed perfectly content just to watch her from a distance.
“I would say I’m jealous of the mirror too, for good measure,” he said, “but I don’t want you to think I’m getting sappy.”
Her lips curved further as she blended the moisturizer into her skin. “Dopey’s son, sappy? I’ve never heard such an absurd thing.”
Doug waited only a beat before saying, “Don’t make me come over there, Evelyn, and show you how I can be so much more than a sap.”
Ooh. Tempting. Evie moved on to concealer, ever so gently dabbing it on with a make-up blender because she didn’t want to cause any wrinkles – heaven forbid. But she moved through her regimen quickly because she had been doing this for years, even before she had the high-quality products in Auradon that the Isle never could have had. She moved on to her contouring, her eyes dashing ever so discreetly every so often to Doug, who had stolen his gaze from her and stretched languidly, at ease, so sure she was too focused on her make-up that she wouldn’t drink up the sight of his body, his muscles just defined enough to ripple under his skin as he moved.
Good thing she had always been a multi-tasker.
Next were the eyes – her defining feature, after her lips – and she figured she would go for a smoky look because she had a meeting with investors today. Even though she had the backing of the castle as well as King Ben’s ringing endorsement, her garment and alteration business was still on its first legs – and that required more cash-flow. Good thing she already had a dedicated following as far as repeat customers who were, amazingly, always satisfied with her work. But one could never be too careful. Or confident. Evie had learned that too well on the Isle.
When she gave her eyes their last finishing touch, Evie glanced back at Doug to see that he lay on his back, a battered paperback in his hand, the tousle of his hair just brushing the pillow. A fond smile dusted her lips while she moved next to her eyebrows, which thankfully did not need much work in the way of plucking, and then her cheeks with a blush which helped to bring out the spark in her eyes. Then her lips, her last project – she decided to dash a tint of pale red across them instead of her usual fire-alarm red. She wanted to impress in her meeting, but she didn’t want to scare the poor people away either with her lush and sumptuous smile.
“You are magic,” said Doug, and Evie’s eyes moved with a start to find that he stood behind her, hands brushing her shoulders. She offered him a coquettish grin and breathed out a soft laugh.
“Don’t startle me like that,” she said, teasing, as she set down the compact of rouge tint she had just used. “What if I had had lipstick near my face? I would have been a clown ready to be the king’s private jester.”
“You would be my clown, though,” Doug said, his lips brushing across her temple in a way that made her tingle inside.
Another giddy hint of laughter escaped her lips. “Did you go to Charm School while I wasn’t looking?” she asked. “You’ve got quite the knack for the sweet talk, mister.”
“Sweet talk, massages, beauty tips, fashion advice,” Doug said as if he were running off an invisible list, “I’m a man of many talents.”
Then his mouth traveled from her hair to her cheek, and she craned her neck as a soft and satisfied sigh trembled out of her. It was so easy, almost too easy, being with Doug. But that was the fun of it, the joy of it.
“Oh, yes,” she agreed, when his lips were at her neck, “you are indeed a man of many talents.”
Before she could talk herself out of it, she pulled his head to hers, their mouths meeting softly as a whisper shared under moonlight, and she easily could have lost herself in him, the feel of him against her hands, their kiss bringing a renewed fervor to her senses.
She could have spent all day there, just mouths moving without the need for words, until his mouth whispered against hers, “Don’t you have an appointment at ten?”
Her eyes flashed open, and she broke the kiss. “Oh, crap, I need to get dressed!”
Doug tugged at a lock of her hair. “Relax, Evie. You have almost an hour.”
Her baser instincts might have said, ”Then let’s continue that kiss,” but she was still fretting over what to wear to her meeting. Doug just shook his head at her before returning to the bed and his book.
Then Evie glanced in the mirror, at her swollen lips, at the smear of red across her lips.
“Oh,” she said, almost as an after-thought, “I ruined my make-up.”