“Do you trust me?”
Jessi leaned in closer to Georgia’s face, so close that Georgia could feel Jessi’s warm breath brushing against her lips. Even on the air-conditioned train, the proximity of their bodies made their shoulders and necks glisten with sweat. Their cheeks glowed pink.
“Yes,” replied Georgia, softly, barely exhaling.
Then, quick as a striking snake, Jessi jabbed the end of the eyeliner directly into Georgia’s iris.
“Ow! What the hell?!”
“Sorry, you moved.”
“Well yeah I moved. If you’re going to be a professional make-up artist, you’re going to have to move a little more slowly.”
Jessi glowered. “Cosmetologist. Not a make-up artist.”
“Oh, come on. It’s not a goddamn science.”
“Like hell it isn’t! I have to know so much shit about people’s coloring. I have to know how to combat dry skin, oily skin, combination skin. I need to know which products best cover up acne, I need to know about allergies, I need to stay on top of industry trends like BB cream and CC cream and—”
“Okay, okay. I get it. I’m sorry. You’re a cosmetologist.” Georgia flashed Jessi what was meant to be an apologetic and reassuring smile, but Jessi’s face simply morphed from angry to depressed.
“I’m not a cosmetologist yet. I still have to pass my exams. I’m really freaking nervous. I have so much trouble with eyeliner.”
Georgia picked up Jessi’s right hand, which was still holding the coal-black pencil. She raised it to her eye.
“It’s okay. Try again. I trust you.”
Last writing group tonight. Well, I mean, the last one I can host. I really hope it continues after I move to Vegas. It's my baby! I've put so much effort into it. I hope people have learned as much from it as I have.