Easy, Right?

“You seriously think you could do what I do?” Emma’s voice had an edge, sharper than usual, as she stared across the living room at Jake.

He shrugged, leaning back on the couch. “How hard can it be? It’s just makeup. Watch a couple of YouTube tutorials, practice for a bit, and boom—you’ve got a ‘career,’ right?” His air quotes made her jaw tighten.

Emma had taken his little jabs about her profession before. Usually, she let them slide. She figured Jake just didn’t understand how much work went into being a makeup artist. But after weeks of him being moody and irritable about losing his job—and taking it out on her—she’d had enough.

Her lips curled into a slow smile, one that made Jake’s cocky confidence falter.

“Alright,” she said, standing and grabbing her makeup kit. “Let’s see if you’re as good as you think. Here’s your chance to prove me wrong. You’re going to do my makeup, Jake.”

“What?” He blinked, suddenly less sure. “I didn’t mean—”

“Nope! You said it’s easy. So, prove it.” She plopped her kit on the table and slid him her brushes, palette, and foundation. “Go ahead, Picasso. Show me what you’ve got.”

An hour later, Jake sat in frustrated silence, holding a blending sponge like it was a foreign object. The foundation was streaky, the eyeshadow uneven, and the eyeliner? A disaster. He had tried to follow a tutorial on her phone, but it quickly became clear that makeup wasn’t as simple as he thought.

When he finally set the brush down, Emma inspected his work with a barely-contained giggle. “Oh, wow,” she said, trying to sound serious but failing. “This is... something. Is that supposed to be a smokey eye? Because it looks more like a bruised raccoon.”

“Alright, fine!” Jake groaned, throwing his hands up. “Maybe it’s harder than it looks.”

“Maybe?” She raised a brow, crossing her arms. “No, Jake. It is. Now, it’s my turn.”

“Your turn? What does that mean?” His voice rose with suspicion.

“You tried to prove how easy my job is. Now, I’m going to show you how good I actually am.”

Before Jake could protest, Emma was already pulling out a chair. “Sit.” Her tone left no room for argument.

The next few hours were a whirlwind. Emma worked with laser focus, brushing and blending with an expertise Jake could only dream of. His protests were met with a sharp “Hold still!” or her teasing reminder: “You said this was easy, remember?” First came the foundation, layered with precision until his skin looked smooth and flawless. She contoured his face to soften his jawline and brought out his cheekbones with just the right touch of bronzer and highlighter. His brows were shaped and filled in with a delicate hand, creating an elegant arch that completely transformed his expression.

She took her time with his eyes, explaining every step as she worked. “This is how you blend properly,” she quipped as she shaded his lids with shimmering purples and silvers, the colors popping against his pale skin. A dramatic wing of eyeliner followed, bold and sharp, before she finished with thick, fluttery lashes that made his eyes look wide and unmistakably feminine. And, of course, she didn’t stop there. His lips were painted in a glittering, jewel-toned purple, the edges lined to perfection before she added a glossy topcoat for that extra pop. She even dragged him to the bathroom at one point, where she dyed his hair a shimmering lavender, assuring him it was temporary and would wash out later. To top it all off, she applied soft pink, almond-shaped press-on nails, giving his hands an elegant, feminine touch that completed the transformation.

When it was finally over, Jake found himself staring at the mirror, unable to recognize the person staring back. His face was a masterpiece, every detail perfectly harmonized. The shimmering hues of his eye makeup made his lavender hair seem even brighter, while his lips—full, glossy, and bold—drew his attention with every movement. The soft glow of his complexion gave him a doll-like radiance, and the nails only added to the illusion. He turned his head slightly, catching how the highlighter shimmered under the light, and he couldn't deny it—Emma had erased every trace of the man he used to see.

Emma leaned against the counter, arms crossed, her smirk practically glowing. “You know, looking like this, maybe you should start applying for modeling gigs. Might finally get you hired somewhere.”

With that, she turned and sauntered off, leaving Jake to stare at the stranger in the mirror—and wonder if she might actually be right.