A/N: Holy cheese balls! Ireland Maslow is probably the sweetest person EVER. I am so so so so happy that someone likes this story! I was beginning to not like it, and thought about just deleting it all together. But then you reviewed such amazing reviews and I knew I had to continue it! Thank you so so so much. I'm now dedicating the rest of this story to you, because you're the reason I'm deciding to continue the story. Thanks again. (:

Also, if you have any questions about a part of the story you're confused with, I'd be happy to answer them in the next chapter. Aaannd, if you want something to happen in the story, I'm completely up for suggestions. Especially if you're the most amazing person ever! Ireland Maslow, if you have a suggestion, I'd love to hear it and squeeze it into this story. Thank you so much once again for the AMAZING reviews.

This is for you (:


Tiffany and Reagan climb into my car, bickering reasons of why they should get the front seat. I eventually just tell them both to sit in the back seat if they aren't willing to cooperate.

"She started it," Reagan says as a five-year old would to her mother.

"I don't care who started it, I want you both to end it," I say as a mother would to her children who were acting up. Yeah, this is our friendship for you.

I drive the ten minute drive to Tiffany's house. Our plan is to hang out there tonight and go to do something tomorrow. We aren't even sure what we're going to do tomorrow. All we know is that it'll Sunday. In other words, there won't be much to do considering most places are usually closed on Sundays (how dumb is that?). So we're probably going to end up just hanging out at Tiffany's house. That is, if her parents let her.

I finally drive up to Tiffany's front yard shifting the car into park.

"Don't kill the engine yet. I still need to ask my mom if it's okay that you guys are here," Tiffany says opening the door and climbing out. "I'll be right back," she says, slamming the door shut.

"I'm really worried about her," I tell Reagan. She climbs over the seat and sits in the passenger's seat.

"Me, too. Her mom and dad are rarely home, and she's been... doing it again," she says looking down at her thumbs.

"She told me she was gonna stop. She promised me she would quit," I reply.

"Well, Ashley, she's going through a rough time with her family. I know you probably know more than I do, but it's still just as heartbreaking for me. She's been practically living with Chris since what happened."

"I know. But she still promised me she would stop. How did you know she did it again?"

"I saw her wrist yesterday after school. Brett, her, Chris and I were at Sonic and she was picking at something at her wrist. I pulled her aside so Brett and Chris wouldn't hear and I made her show me her wrist. Every cut looked new, too."

Sigh. Oh, Tiffany, you're ruining yourself. Why would you do this?

Suddenly, the back door opens and slams shut. Tiffany isn't saying a word and her arms are crossed.

"Well?" Reagan asks.

"They're hung over. Again. Please just go somewhere else. Just drive," Tiffany says, clearly sad and angry at the same time. For lack of a better term, she's disappointed.

"Tiff, don't you want to talk about it?" I ask.

"I said drive. Get me the hell out of here, please," she replies. I can practically hear the tears rolling down her cheeks. I don't question her any further and shift the car into drive.

Reagan tells me to go to my house, since she's apparently tired of hers, so I comply.

The car ride stays completely silent the whole way to my house. No one says a word, and the only sound you can hear is a few sniffles here and there from the backseat. God, I just want to hug her. Not say anything, just hug her. I know I'll never feel the same way she constantly feels, so I wouldn't know what to say. I just want to at least whisper comforting and soothing words and let her cry on my shoulder. I just love Tiffany so much, and it kills me to see her this way.

After about fifteen minutes, we arrive at my house and I turn off the engine, open the garage door and we all get out of the car and into the house. We all take showers and get into different clothes.

"God, I'm starved," Reagan says, heading for the pantry. I look over at Tiffany who had already thrown herself on the living room couch. I frown and start to walk over to her when I notice there's three new voicemail on my home phone. I click the receiver button.

"You have three unheard messages. First message: 'Hello honey, we were just checking in on you. We wanted to let you know we love you and we'll be home before you know it. Bye, baby. We love you. Call us back when you can.' Next message: 'Hey... um, Ashley,'" I hear Evan's voice say. I smile at the sound of him stuttering. "I was, uh. I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come over to my house later to help me take care of Lucy. She misses you. I don't blame her. Anyway, I know you're with your girls, so I can wait until tomorrow. Bye."

"Sounds like someone's got it bad," I hear Tiffany say from the couch. By the sound of her voice, I can tell she's got a smile on her face. I walk over to her.

"I do not have it bad."

"I was talking about Evan. He couldn't keep his eyes off of you earlier. He's totally smitten."

Reagan walks in with a bag of chips. "Dude, he's more than got it bad. He's in love."

"Guys, stop. He's not in love with me. You guys are being so unrealistic," I say sitting down beside Tiffany.

"Ashley, Ashley, Ashley."

"Don't you triple 'Ashley' me!"

"You're just too afraid to admit she's right," Tiffany says playfully pinching my side. I giggle.

"I'm not afraid of I anything," I say. "I just know he's not in love with me."

"Alright, maybe not. But you're in love with him," Reagan says tossing a chip into her mouth. I can feel my cheeks beginning to burn. "See? You're blushing. That says it all."

"I'm not blushing." I turn my head away from the two of them. "You guys are idiots."

They laugh.

"Ashley, we know how to understand you. We know when you're in love. Remember Jeremy?" Tiffany asks.

I turn back to them. "No. I hate him."

"Oh, we know. But we also could tell when you fell in love with him," she continued. "It was the way you looked at him. There was this different kind of look in your eye. We weren't sure what it was at first, but we could tell eventually that you'd fallen in love."

"Yes, and because of that, I vowed to myself that I would never fall in love again. He hated me after I told him. So, I'm not in love, and I'll never fall in love again."

"Quit lying to yourself," Reagan said turning on the television. The next few minutes are silent and I begin to think about Jeremy again.

Jeremy was an amazing guy. I dated him last year when he was a senior at my school. he promised me that when he graduated, he would wait for my graduation to actually start college. I told him he didn't have to, but he wouldn't take no front answer. Finally, I decided to let him go with it. I still didn't like the idea of him missing out on college only for me, but I was trying to be supportive. After he graduated and he stayed committed to not going to college yet, I told him I loved him. I thought I really did, too. He was the most amazing man ever and I was completely smitten. I thought he had loved me back, only because he seemed so committed to our relationship. But when I told him, he freaked out and broke up with me. I had a horrible summer and I didn't go a day without crying. But then I met Evan.

His dark eyes and wide smile made me forget about Jeremy. The way his hair falls perfectly into place. How he sticks his hands in his pockets when he's nervous. I know about his birthmark that happens to be right below his naval, a little to the left (Brett told me about it). I know his favorite place to go during the summer is the beach, and I know he'd much rather go alone than with anyone, even his family. I know that when he smiles, there's a tiny dimple in his left cheek. I know that he plans to be a musician as a drummer when he gets older. I even know his favorite candy: Laffy Taffy.

Wow.

I guess I know a lot more about Evan than I thought I did. Brett's the one who usually tells me these things. But there were a couple that I figured out on my own. Like his dimple. And his hopes to be a drummer.

I wonder if Brett ever told Evan any of my favorite things, or about my birthmark on my lower back.

Yes, Brett knows about my birthmark. He's only seen it, what? A thousand times? We've been friends since the fourth grade. His aunt has a pool. Enough said.

"Ashley?" Reagan interrupts my thoughts. "Does that sound good?"

"Does what sound good?" I ask.

"We've only been talking to you for ten minutes of what to do," Tiffany says.

"Bowling. Does bowling sound good?" Reagan asks, I'm guessing for the fifth time or so.

"I don't know. I kinda just want to hang out here."

Tiffany rolls her eyes and gets up. "I'm bored," she says making her way to the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, I'm just a bit tired."

"Then let's go do something to perk you up!" Reagan says putting her arm around my shoulder and squeezing me closer.

"Like what?"

She gives me a sly smile. "How long has it been since you've worn makeup?"

I shrug. "I don't know. Yesterday I wore mascara."

"You always wear mascara."

"What's your point?"

Tiffany trots back into the room carrying a different bag of chips. "Makeover!"

"No way," I pry myself from Reagan. "The only makeup I have is mascara anyways."

Reagan help up her purse. "I always have mine with me."

She grabs my wrist and drags me to the half bathroom that was under the staircase, kind of like Harry Potter's bedroom. Only difference, it's a bathroom. Tiffany follows us.

"I don't want to -"

"We need to see how you'd look so that we could do it before the fair. It's good practice," Tiffany says sitting the bag of chips on the marble countertop and rinsing her hands off with water.

"Plus, you'll love it. You'll be so surprised with the outcome," Reagan reassures me. "You'll love it," she repeats herself when I try to argue again. "Trust us."

I sigh. "Fine. But please don't go overboard. I still want to look as natural as possible."

"We promise not to make you look..." Tiffany can't seem to think of the right word.

"Trampy," Reagan bluntly says. "You'll look beautiful. And completely natural."

I sigh and sit on the toilet which is the only chair available. They step in front of me so I'm not able to see the mirror and so it will be a surprise. Plus, I think if I could see what they were doing to me, I would probably stop them and tell them to wipe something off because I wouldn't like the way it looked.

A few minutes pass (even though it felt more like a few hours, because they told me to close my eyes the whole time just in case I tried to steal a peek), they finally finish.

"Okay, open your eyes," Reagan says. They both are still standing in front of me.

"Holy shit," Tiffany says smiling.

"What did I tell you? She looks beyond stunning," Reagan says, steeping to the side and grabbing my wrist to stand me up.

I don't dare to look at the mirror right away. I lower my head before Tiffany steps aside and nudges me to the mirror.

I slowly look up.

Oh. My. God.

I did look... beyond stunning. I've never looked or felt so gorgeous in my life.

I study my now made-up face. I've got it all on. The whole shazam. There's eyeshadow, lipstick, blush, and even bronzer. I knew I had cheekbones, but now I can actually see them. My blue eyes now look even more blue with the rust colored eyeshadow that outlines them. And the mascara, my favorite, helps my long eyelashes to make my eyes pop even more. My rosy lips look totally kissable.

I turn my head a bit to the side. Even the foundation looks natural. Not a smudge or a visible line. It's all completely smooth and looks real.

"Holy crap," I finally say.

"Well? What do you think?" Reagan asks with a hopeful tone.

"I think I might have to pay you guys to do this every day," I say turning to them. "God I look beautiful. I love it!"

Tiffany gives me a hug. "You've always been beautiful. We just want to show you that it's possible to enhance your beauty."

Reagan gives me a hug as well. "And we all know Evan will just love it," she jokes. We all laugh.

Reagan packs up her makeup and we head back to the living room.

"We need to show you off now," Tiffany says.

"What do you mean?" I act oblivious.

"Let's go out somewhere. It's only five. The night is young and there's plenty to do," Reagan tells us. She's already headed out the door.

"Oh, great. Wonder what she has in mind," Tiffany jokes.

I slightly laugh and grab my dad's car keys before following her out the door.

We get into the car, Tiffany in the front seat this time since Reagan took advantage of it last time (they're so childish).

"Where to?" I ask Reagan. I'm suddenly excited to get out and show people my new improved look. And I feel my heart skip a beat when I realize Evan's home. Maybe he'll notice I left and head out to find me. That would be so romantic! Okay, that's a bit too far...

"Let's go walk around the mall. There's always a lot of people there," Reagan says.

"Even on Sundays?" Tiffany asks in a sarcastic tone.

"Oh yeah, it's Sunday. Oh, look who's come to join the party," Reagan said nodding her chin to Evan's house. He was walking out with Lucy on a leash.

"He's giving Lucy a walk," I say to them.

"Then he'll realize you're leaving and he'll tell Lucy 'oh, sorry. Maybe next time,' and he'll find an excuse to hang out with you instead," Reagan says.

"You're so stupid," I tell her smiling. I look back over to Evan. He's wearing a wife-beater shirt and running shorts and tennis shoes. He's actually taking Lucy for a jog. "He loves Lucy, and he wouldn't ditch her for me," I say smiling at him. He looks over and sees us in the car. He smiles and waves. I happily wave back. I can see the other girls wave out of the corner of my eye.

"To the mall!" Reagan shouts.


That was fun to write! Sorry it took a while. I've been busy with school so, yeah. You know how that goes. I'll try better, though. Thank again Ireland Maslow for you AH-mazing reviews. Any questions? Leave them in the reviews. Any suggestions? Read the last sentence.

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