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59. The One Where I Toast

"Ready?" Nisha wriggled her eyebrows behind. Chuckling, I shut the eyeshadow palette and turned to look at her. "I knew this black dress was a killer. And damn, your new room." She let her gaze wander around the new room of mine. It was the opposite of my old room, much more stylish, and the books of shelves were behind my bed, rather than being on the opposite.

Kabir had argued what if an earthquake came and they fell on my head. The creative mind of his.

"Your dad has a good taste," She commented.

Bending down, I caught hold of my wedges and tied them to my feet. "Thanks for helping with makeup."

"Never mind." She waved her hand in the air. "I love dolling you up. You say nothing while I do it. Apart from my brother warning me to not cake your face."

"What?"

She giggled. "When I was leaving, he warned me if I caked your face with makeup, he will steal my canvases. He loves his natural bookworm too much."

"Oh." Too warm. Too hot.

"What natural things are you both doing?" She smirked.
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