Up All Night

Marlene fingered the hem of her dress nervously as Isobel fluttered around, putting on the final touches to her cousin’s make up. She hadn’t let Marlene look in the mirror since Marlene had got dressed nearly two hours ago.

She had no idea how she looked, and Niall would be at the door in fifteen minutes. Suffices to say, Marlene was quietly panicking. She didn’t know why she was so nervous – she didn’t even like Niall in that way, and could count on one hand the number of time she had met him.

Isobel was convinced that it was because Marlene thought Niall was cute; Marlene thought it was because she’d only ever been on one date before, and it had been a complete disaster. The Australian had been too embarrassed to go to that cinema complex for three months afterwards.

The memory still brought a flush to her cheeks.

Marlene was desperately trying to not think about that date – which was like being asked not to think about pink elephants – and attempting to cool her heated cheeks, when Isobel let out a triumphant “done!”

The dark-haired cousin spun the chair around, and Marlene, despite herself, let out a gasp.

She looked beautiful. Isobel had dyed Marlene’s hair the day before, and it was a vibrant, eye-popping shade of fire-truck red, tied back into a pretty bun with a pink faux flower for decoration. Isobel had gone for a 50s screen-siren inspired look when doing Marlene’s make up, and her hazel eyes were rimmed in black kohl liner with large ‘cat’s eyes’ flicks at the end. Her lips were a vivacious shade of red, and Marlene nearly had a heart attack when she saw them. Never would she have envisioned herself wearing red lipstick.

Her dress was a soft, girly three-tiered pale pink dress, offset by opaque black leggings and killer red heels.

Marlene had had a fit when she had seen the shoes.

“No, Isobel,” she’d protested. “No way in goddamn hell. It’s a date not a fucking…” she trailed off. “Point is, I’m not wearing them. I’ll look like a whore or something. It’s too much! I wanted simple! Not over-the-top-so-elegent-it’s-now-trashy!”

But Isobel hadn’t given in, and eventually Marlene had. Still, she thought sourly, if it were up to me, I’d be wearing a simple black dress and coloured heels – but not these fucking monsters.

She had to hand it to her young cousin, though – Isobel really knew fashion, and was amazing with make up.

“You should go work for my mum,” Marlene mumbled, still looking at her reflection. “Christ, ‘Bels, you’re a miracle worker. I actually look… beautiful. And I don’t look like a high-class whore, either.”

Isobel laughed, just as the doorbell rang. “Quick!” She handed Marlene a pair of black leather gloves, and scrambled to her wardrobe, pulling out a pink-satin lined jacket in an obnoxious shade of royal purple. Marlene baulked. Surely adding that to her outfit would be what took her from elegant-beauty to high-class prostitute.

But once again, Isobel was oblivious to her cousin’s protests, and shoved her into the jacket before throwing the door wide open.

Both Niall and Marlene’s jaws dropped at the same time. “You look amazing,” they said in unison.

Niall grinned, and Marlene blushed. “Thanks,” she murmured.

“Just tellin’ the truth!” he replied. “’Bels, I’ll have her back before midnight,” he promised, as Marlene slid into the car.

“You’d better, Horan, or I’ll hunt you down!” The young girl warned, winking at her cousin.

Niall slid into the driver’s seat and glanced over at Marlene again. She felt a blush rise to her cheeks. “You look gorgeous,” he whispered hoarsely.

Marlene’s cheeks burned, and she thought about what her cousin had said earlier. Maybe Marlene was wrong – maybe she was interested in Niall.

But if that were the case, why had Louis suddenly popped into her head?

Well, she thought quietly as Niall started the car and they drove off down the street, here goes nothing.