“You don’t need that shit anyways,” he grumbles, almost to himself more than anything. “Makeup?” I laugh. “I definitely do.” “No,” he says seriously, his eyes ensnaring me as he speaks. “You don’t.” Something inside of me twists at his words, and I find it difficult to swallow for a moment before I nod. “So, what’s wrong?” “Hm?” I ask. “You were crying, obviously. Why?”
