Lizzy stares into the vanity mirror as she brings the pencil to her waterline. She draws a perfect line of espresso. "See? Easy."

Uh…

The makeup artist doing our lesson looks to me. "What do you think, Kat? Are you ready to try it again?"

How can drawing on your face be this hard? I'm not exactly Picasso, but I'm well above average when it comes to pen to paper.

Lizzy hands over the pencil.

I cross and uncross my legs. I stare at my reflection in the vanity mirror as I bring the pencil to my eye.

I trace the line along my lashes. The top. Then the bottom. It's not too bad. A little messy. But close.

"All we need to do is clean it up a little." The makeup artist picks up a brush with an angled tip. "Close your eyes."

I do.

She runs the brush along the line I drew. "Okay. Open."

I stare back at my reflection. That looks better. A lot better. More smudged and sexy than smudged and amateur. "Can I try?"

"Of course." She smiles.

I line my other eye then I pick up the brush and trace my work. My blending isn't quite as expert as hers, but it looks alright.

"I like it," Lizzy says. "It's sexy."

"Yeah?" I ask.

"Like you're walking home from your one-night stand." Lizzy picks up a tube of red lipstick. "Try it with this. Screams sex appeal."

"It's too red," I say.

"Guys like red." Lizzy looks to the makeup artist. "Right?"

"Yes, but honestly, guys don't know anything about makeup. My boyfriend is always telling me how pretty I look without makeup when I have a natural look going. It doesn't matter how many times I tell him I'm caked in product. He keeps insisting." The makeup artist scans the rows and rows of lipstick. She grabs something in a deep berry. "Let's try this. It's a little cooler. Not quite as bright. I think it will suit you."

I take the lipstick, pout, apply two coats. It's dark and rich, like a glass of red wine. Or a raspberry. Between the lipstick and the smoky eye, I look like an adult. Like a sexpot, actually. Like I'll be the one driving Blake out of his mind.

"Oh. I'm going to find one." Lizzy smiles at the makeup artist. "Do you think you have any palettes in purple? Shimmery or matte."

"I'll check." She moves to another row.

Lizzy turns to me. "Are you going to fess up?"

"To?" I play dumb. The berry lipstick really is working for me. I can see it smudged on Blake's lips. Or his neck. Or his collar. Or just below his belly button.

"Since when do you care about makeup?"

"This is fun, isn't it? The lesson."

"Yeah." Lizzy looks back at her reflection, checking her shimmery purple eyeshadow. "It's awesome. For me. But you… no offense, Kat, but you look sorta confused and frustrated."

"It's not my skillset."

"Don't you work on Tuesday nights?"

"I quit."

"What?" She stares back at me. "Can we—"

"Yeah. I arranged something. I can't explain. But trust me, it's good."

"And it has something to do with your sudden interest in makeup? And the limo that was waiting the other day? Why was there a limo?"

"I'm dating someone with money."

"Oh."

"What do you mean 'oh'?"

My sister stares back at me with a knowing expression. "You have a sugar daddy. Right on. It's about time, Kat. You deserve a break."

"No. It's not like that." Okay, it's not unlike that. "We're serious." About getting married. Not about loving each other.

"Okay, sure. That's why you didn't come home the other night. And why you had that satisfied, just fucked expression when I got home from school the next day."

"I plead the fifth."

"Who's Mr. Rich Guy?"

"A guy I met at work."

"Oh my God, that's so Pretty Woman."

"She's a prostitute!"

"Whatever. It's still romantic. You have a picture?"

No. We should have pictures. Everyone takes selfies nowadays. Or at least vacation photos. "You know what he looks like."

"He's famous?"

"Sort of. He's…" I fold my arms. "Don't freak out, okay?"

"I never freak out."

That's true. But still… this news is weird. Ridiculous. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. "He's Blake Sterling."

Lizzy's eyes go wide. "Sterling Tech Blake Sterling?"

"Yeah."

"Oh my God. He's a legend. He's amazing. Have you seen any of his code? Have you been to the office? Tell me you'll take me to the office!!!"

"I can probably arrange that."

Lizzy grabs my wrists. She squeals. "You're amazing. Oh my God." Her eyes go to my neck. "That hickey. That's from Blake Sterling."

"It's…" I adjust my hair so it's covering said hickey. "It's nothing."

Lizzy laughs. "I'm glad you're finally dating. You've been different the last week. Happier."

"Yeah?"

"Satisfied." She laughs. "Is there some reason why he bought you all those new clothes?"

"Sorta."

"You know I could have helped pick stuff out."

"We went during the day. You have school."

"I have a life too. And I'm a senior. This semester doesn't even count."

"Still. You should be learning."

"I learn all the time."

"I have to say this. I'm your legal guardian."

She nods fair enough.

"You can help today."

"Yeah?" Her eyes light up.

"I have an appointment booked at a salon. For my hair. But I don't really know what I want to do."

"What are you trying to do?"

"Look like I belong with Blake Sterling, I guess."

"Like a fancy, rich slut?"

"Not exactly."

"More classy?" She laughs.

It makes me warm all over. Lizzy is always bright. She's the sun in my sky. She's been through so much, but she's still hopeful.

Don't get me wrong. My little sister is cynical as all hell. She can be grumpy or prickly or flat-out anti-social. But she always makes me laugh. She's just… fun.

And she's doing well. With that scholarship, she'll be able to go to any college she wants. She'll have the kind of bright future she deserves.

"I have an idea," Lizzy says. "It's very rich, classy, artsy broad. Perfect for you."

"I trust you."

* * *

Two hours later, I'm staring back at a new me. It's not a radical change. Lowlights. Layers with a soft wave.

With my hair done and my makeup perfect, I actually look the part of the rich guy's girlfriend.

Lizzy squees as she takes in my new do. "It's perfect. And it's so you. Classy and pretty."

"I'm bright?"

"Yeah. You're really positive. Like compulsively."

Maybe. I'm glad I convince her of that. "You don't think it's too dark?"

"No. It's good."

The buzz of my purse makes me jump.

"Oooh. Is that loverboy?"

Probably. I don't text with anyone besides Lizzy and Blake. I used to have a handful of friends, but I haven't had the time or energy to stay in touch. For the last three years, I've been hanging out with Lizzy. Just Lizzy.

I pull my cell from my purse.

Sure enough, it's a text from Blake.

Blake: I need to talk to you. Come by my office tonight. I'll be here until midnight.

"Booty call?" Lizzy waggles her brows.

I play-swat her. "No. Just a regular call."

"Let me see then."

I do.

She smiles as she reads the text. "That's absolutely a booty call."

I don't think so. Even if it is— "So what?"

"So nothing. I'm glad you're finally getting some."

"Where did you learn to talk like that?"

"Books."

"No offense, but you don't read."

She laughs. "Okay. TV." She takes a step backwards. "You need to go now?"

"No. After dinner. My treat. Whatever you want."

"Greasy noodles?"

"Sure."

"But not here. We need to go to Chinatown and get the good stuff."

I nod. "Wherever you want."

* * *

After a long, greasy, MSG-filled dinner, Lizzy and I part ways. I take the subway downtown.

It's empty. Again. I guess it's always empty this time of night.

I take a minute to admire the beauty of the city, then I go straight to Blake's office.

Once again, it's empty except for him. I go straight to his open door and knock.

"Kat. Come in."

"How did you know it was me?"

"Who else would it be?"

"The janitor."

"His shoes don't squeak."

My cheeks flush. "I guess I should get new shoes. Better ones."

"If you'd like." He steps out from behind his desk. His eyes pass over me. They start at my hair, linger over my chest, stop at my cheap boots. "Those suit you."

"Cheap and not as waterproof as advertised?"

"Artsy."

"How do you know I'm artsy?"

"You stop and stare at beautiful things every few minutes."

"Oh." I guess I do.

"I can arrange lessons if you'd like."

That would be awesome. But— "I can handle it."

He motions to the couch. "Would you like a drink?"

"Sure." I drop my bags—my purse and the department store bag packed with four hundred dollars of makeup—in the corner and take a seat on the couch. It's strange, the way Blake offers to take care of everything. I'm tempted to take him up on all his offers.

But then where will I be when this is over?

Will I even exist or will I be some amalgamation of Blake's desires?

He fixes our drinks and brings them to the couch.

The brush of his hands still lights up my body. It's funny. We had crazy, rough, animalistic sex a few nights ago, but I still feel like we're strangers.

He's still treating me like a colleague.

"Thank you." I take a long sip of my gin and tonic. It's just as crisp and clear as last time. "Is everything alright?"

"Not exactly." He takes a long sip of his whiskey. His gaze moves to the window that looks out on the city. The silver moon peeks out from behind a skyscraper. "There's a party on Friday."

"One we're attending together?"

"Yes. A company event. But my family will be there as well."

"You have a family?"

He looks at me like he's not sure if I'm joking. "Of course."

"No, I only meant… you haven't really mentioned them."

His hand brushes the outside of my thigh. "I want to announce our relationship at the party."

"Oh. Okay."

"And to ask you to marry me."

"Already?" It's only been a week. Not even.

He nods. "Things are moving faster than I'd hoped."

"What things?"

His gaze goes back to the window. "We'll need to move up our timeline. Get married next month."

"Next month as in April?"

He nods. "That is the month after March."

I think he's teasing me. Maybe. "Is that really plausible?"

"If we tell everyone we've been dating in secret." He looks me in the eyes. There's something in his expression. A sadness. "I hate rushing this, but it's the only way."

"What do you need from me?"

"I made a document. More of my history. A fake history for us. I need you to make one for yourself. Tomorrow. Email it to me. I'll have it memorized."

"We could just hang out. Get to know each other. That kind of thing."

His smile is sad. "There isn't time." He leans in to press his lips to mine. "This is faster. Easier." He finishes his last sip of whiskey, stands, brings the glass back to the bar. "I'm going to be busy the rest of the week. I'll send a car for you Friday."

"Okay."

He turns so his back is to me. "You're welcome to hang out in the office, but I need to get back to work."

"Oh. Sure." He's kicking me out of here too. And this time all he got from me was a kiss.

"I'll email the document to you."

I nod. "Sure. I'll see you Friday."

"Goodnight, Kat."

"Goodnight." I turn and leave and spend the subway ride thinking about the sadness in his eyes.

It's something bad.

But what?