Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
It was upside down.
Most people put on lipstick the normal way, where you went in and pressed the tip against your upper lip, facing the lower part downward. She did it the opposite way, and her reasoning made no sense. Weirdly enough, the tip of that lipstick never fell off; it just existed in this weird mold of a thin tower pointing at the bottom of her lip.
“Honey,” she’d said one day after sharing some of her Estee Lauder with me while I watched her do her makeup in her powder room as she sat on her light blue stool, looking in her small mirror. “One day, you’ll understand that it doesn’t matter how you put on lipstick or eyeshadow or if you wear any makeup at all. You do it for you first, always first.” She smiled at herself as she rubbed her lips together. “And second? Oh, honey, you do it for your partner. For that person in your life. You want to know why I put on lipstick this way?”
I nodded, in complete awe of her strawberry-red lips and perfect pink blush. Even the blond curls on her head didn’t move as she brushed through them.
“You put on lipstick the way you want to live life, against others, upside down, in chaos. You live life because it’s meant to be lived and experienced. You don’t go with the norm—there’s no fun in that. You wear your heels proudly, your sneakers with honor, and you put on lipstick however the heck you please.
“At the end of the day, you become a person who goes against the grain, someone who can flip her lipstick upside down, put it on, and smile. Life is short. Chaos is welcome because it brings in so many factors. And, honey, my only goal for you is to know that no matter what path it takes you on—you can pave your own way and do it with authority. My lipstick proves that time and time again.”
She smiled down at the lipstick with its thin, upside-down tip. “Do you know I’ve never had a lipstick wear out or break by putting it on this way?” She showed me the small black container, her pink nails shining against it. “I think it’s the universe telling me that maybe all of us can do things our own way. It’s just sometimes so much easier to follow the crowd. Be your own crowd.” She looked down at me and pinched my cheek. “Wear lipstick however you want. Now, put it on.”
I grabbed the lipstick and, with shaking hands, twisted it across my lips. Then I turned it upside down just like she did and smacked my lips together because, if anyone had it right...
It was Great-Grandma Nadine.
I dropped the crown to the floor and stood. “How dare you?”
He wasn’t there to hear me, but I heard the lawnmower so, with my pajamas still on—little pink Hello Kitty shorts and a mismatched green shirt—I ran outside, my fluffy orange Garfield slippers in place. Maybe later I’d realize that the Garfield on my left foot was missing an eye, and the one on the right had no tail, but whatever.
I marched next door, sleep mask pulled up and all—that one was slightly more embarrassing since it said: I dream of tacos, but I had no time to think.
August didn’t even notice me, so the only thing I could think to do was throw a Garfield slipper at his face and say, “Sorry.” And to be clear, I felt bad for one-eyed Garfield, not August.
Never. August.
The slipper hit him in the back of the head. He slowly stopped mowing and turned. Why the hell was he so good-looking, even while sweaty? It was like he’d just oiled himself up and was like, “Oh, might go to a body-building competition but can’t decide if I did enough on leg day or carb loaded yet.”
His golden abs seriously had the worst timing as the sun rose and decided to bless him like baby Jesus or Simba from The Lion King, just shining down across all freaking fifteen of them. Okay, there weren’t fifteen, but again, I didn’t care. It was glorious, and I hated him even more for the crown in that moment. It was sinister, like he knew.
“You.” I pointed with my finger.
He held up his hands. “Is lawn care illegal?”
No, but abs like that should be, you asshole.
“NO!” I roared, then reached for the other slipper and held it high. “I’ll use it, don’t make me use it, August.”
He raised his toned, muscular, god-like golden right arm and ran his fingertips through his thick, sweaty hair, pulling it away from his green eyes. “Are you threatening me with Garfield?”
“If I must, Odie.”
He dropped his arm and burst out laughing. His dimples were on full display. “I’m the dumb dog, but aren’t you the one obsessed with carbs? Should I bring a lasagna next time?”