I WALKED INTO MY APARTMENT and met the three musketeers on my poor bed, watching a movie. As soon as I stepped in, their gazes swung in my direction.

"You two didn't go to your place?" I asked as I stared at the numerous empty junk packaging littered all over the floor.

Those were part of my stash for the week. The snacks I bought with my hard-earned money were being consumed by everyone except the owner; me!

"And leave me all alone?" Samantha whined.

I walked over to my wardrobe, pulling off my clothes, "You could have gone along with them."

I turned to face my audience after changing into black pants and held two tops up in either of my hands, "Grey or black?"

"You can't wear black and black, Wendy," Samantha said, "Nobody died."

"But grey's not a great idea, though," Scarlett added, even as she looked like her mind was in a totally different world.

"Sweat?" I asked.

"Sweat," she nodded.

I sighed and set the tops down.

"Are you heading somewhere?" Annabelle asked as she got up from the bed and approached me.

"Kind of."

"Is that guy here?" Samantha inquired, sitting up on the bed and resting her thighs across Scarlett's ass as they shared a bag of chips.

Annabelle shuffled through my wardrobe, "What guy?"

"Scott," I said.

She stared in confusion, "Who?"

I glanced at Samantha for a quick second, then drew closer to Annabelle to whisper, "The guy that was with me in the alley on the night Thomas broke up with me."

She stared for a while, then drew even closer to me and whispered in response, "Sure but why are we whispering?"

"Samantha's going to make me cut off my friendship with him if you two don't know him."

She handed me a brown top, "Right."

"Ohh, Scott!" Annabelle forced out a loud laugh and turned to face the rest of the group, trying to play it cool, "You remember him, don't you, Scar?"

"I'm not stupid," Samantha said at once.

"Got it," Annabelle nodded and headed back to the bed.

"So, you two have never met him?" Samantha inquired.

"We have, actually. Scar swung her bag on him, thinking he was a kidnapper," Annabelle laughed.

"Oh, so that's his name," Scarlett added, "We don't know him that well but for him to sit on the floor with her because she was crying, I think it's okay for her to know him. He could be useful for when next she wants to cry."

I laughed, wondering how she could say that with a straight face.

"I'm leaving, y'all," I finally said, "Don't eat all my snacks. Samantha, you owe at least a thousand dollars for what you ate. You're not a fucking hippo, can you not munch on something for a second?"

She crunched the chip in her mouth loudly to annoy me, "We're still going to talk about this your friend when you get back. Take a jacket, it's going to be cold outside."

I rolled my eyes and walked out. My top looked so nice against my skin. Why in the high heavens would I cover it up with a boring jacket?

I got out of my apartment building and just as he had promised, he stood at the same spot waiting for me. The second his gaze landed on me was when I realised how exposed my body was. My chubby arms were out and my protruding belly bounced every which way.

"Are you alright?" He asked as I approached him.

"I'm fine," I forced out a laugh.

"Then, shall we?"

I trailed behind him, staring at the deft manner in which he walked. The tip of his dark hair poked out from underneath his face cap and danced along with the gentle breeze; his shoulders were firm and his hands were in his black coat pocket as he walked. For a second, he looked like he could bring out a gun with a swift turn and aim for my head. Really, could this man not be a serial killer?

Like he knew I was analyzing his features, he turned around and stared at me. I halted in my steps in fright and stared into his eyes, slowly breathing to calm myself down. His magnificent irises glowed— courtesy of the street light— and his gaze was calm, gradually relieving me of any thought that he could be dangerous.

"Are you too timid to walk beside me?" He inquired.

I thinned my lips in embarrassment; he caught me.

He walked over to where I stood and took his right hand out of his pocket, offering it towards me, "I don't bite."

I smiled in amusement and placed my left hand on his, "I never said you do."

He wrapped his hand around mine and we walked down the alley together. His hand was warm, probably because they had been in his coat pocket all the while. It felt soothing, as the atmosphere had gotten a little chilly and his hand was my only source of warmth.

A starry sky, an artificially illuminated scenery and a busy road. Those were the elements that made up this night. It was the same as always but it felt peaceful.

As a vehicle sped past us on the road, the cold breeze washed against my skin and sprung little goosebumps on my arms but I couldn't dare shiver. Samantha had advised me exactly seven minutes ago to take a jacket and I ignored her because I wanted to show off my cute short-sleeved top. Was this the consequence of my action? Well, I hated it.

I looked up ahead and realized that we had long walked past the road and gotten to the town park. In contrast to how the street was, the park was solemn and quiet. It was peaceful- the serenity only being perturbed by the soft creaks of crickets. Only a few lamp posts were lit and they illuminated the area with dim yellow lights, setting the park like a nice romantic dinner date.

I ran over to the bench with a lamppost by its right, letting go of Scott's hand. I never realized that we were still holding hands all the while until I let go.

I tapped the bench space beside me as I sat down, "Take a seat."

"The stars are so beautiful, aren't they?" I asked, staring at the sky as Scott sat down beside me on the bench.

"Your cheek," He suddenly said.

I turned to look at him and met him pointing at my left cheek.

I touched my face. "What is it?"

"Your make-up is a little smudged."

I drew out my phone from my purse and stared at myself through the front camera. I must have smudged it while I was getting changed. What was the use of a setting spray if it was not going to last me all day? And why did it have to be my left cheek?

I gently touched my cheek, trying to adjust the makeup with my fingertips but it was no use. It had started to look patchy.

"Do you want to wipe it off?" Scott questioned as I pulled out a small pack of facial wipes from my purse.

I took off my glasses, going a little blind, "Yes."

"May I be of help?"

I popped open the seal of the pack of wipes, "Less work for me."

He laughed, "I can use these on my hands, right?"

He pulled out a wipe and cleaned his hand before picking another wipe. He rested his arm on the backrest and I turned my torso forty-five degrees to face him before closing my eyes.

The slightly cold wet wipe gently touched my face and swiped across my forehead. Focusing on the quietness of my surroundings and the mild inexplicable scent from the wipes, I toyed with the pack in my hand.

"Have you decided if you want to go on with your new design?"

I gently squeezed the edge of the makeup wipes pack, "You remembered?"

"You thought I'd forget?" He questioned my question.

I laughed, "I just didn't expect you to remember the sketch in the little paper I squeezed into a ball."

I could feel the wipes move from my forehead to the right side of my face.

"Do you like that design?" I asked, "Would you like to see a dress like that in real-time?"

"I would. It's new, a design that would make you step out of your comfort zone for you to achieve it."

Most importantly, would I look good in that dress? I didn't want to waste days working on a project that would cause me to fall victim to that monster's shenanigans again.

"Will you be making the dress?" Scott asked again.

I squeezed the pack in my hands again, "Yes."

That design deserved a chance of existence, whether or not I believed it was made for me.

"Then, can you promise me one thing?" I heard Scott ask.

"What is that?"

"That I'd get to see you in your dress," I heard him say.

I thinned my lips, "Annabelle can do that. She's a model."

"And you're a designer."

"A designer doesn't have to wear her clothes," I laughed, "But I agree with you. There's no value attached to the dress if I don't appreciate it, so I promise. I'll model my dress before your very eyes."

The wet wipes slid down my left cheek and I just knew the question was coming. I had had to hear and reply to this question for almost twenty-one years that I had been alive.

"Is this a scar?" Scott asked, drawing a third wipe out of the pack.

"It's my birthmark."

"Does it hurt sometimes?"

"No," I replied.

I heard that some birthmarks itched a lot but I never experienced such; It felt like my normal skin. I could remember trying to bleach it off my skin but nothing seemed to work and even back then, I never felt a sting while I poured those bleaching chemicals on my cheek. Maybe my birthmark was dead.

"It looks like I got beat up, doesn't it?" I inquired, softly laughing with my eyes still closed.

"It's unique. I can easily spot you in a crowd."

I squeezed the pack again, "So I'm different from everyone."

"Is that supposed to be a terrible thing?"

I finally opened my eyes as he stopped wiping my face and I stared at him. Really, was being different supposed to be a bad thing?

"I'm done," he announced.

"You're now a part of the first few to see my bare face. Welcome to my close friends' list," I chuckled, "How do I look? Different, right?"

Scott slowly reached out and held his palm against my cheek, brushing his thumb over my birthmark. He scanned my face down to my lips and blinked, then looked into my eyes again.

"You're pretty," he admitted.

With those words, the scenery of the park and our position began to register in my head. The cold weather, my blurry vision, his left arm resting on the backrest of the bench, his right hand cuddling my face, my fidgeting hands and our locking gazes. We definitely looked like we were about to kiss.

Wait, kiss?

I coughed through my closed mouth as I stared at him and I heard him softly laugh, slightly squinting his eyes.

He took his hand off my cheek and sat properly, "The concert date has been moved to next week Friday."

I folded the used wipes and put my glasses back on, "Why? Is it about the concert arena? Because the last time, it was so packed. But is this rescheduled date not going to affect his tour?"

"I don't think it will. There's a four-day gap between the new date for the concert and the following concert. But I will admit that he was a bit reckless."

I hit Scott on his arm, "Don't badmouth him."

Watching as Scott laughed with slightly squinted eyes, I smiled. What a good-looking man.

The cold breeze blew against my skin and thousands of goosebumps surfaced once again. I rubbed my palms against their opposing arms as I shivered under my breath, bowing my head.

Samantha, I promise to always listen to what you tell me. I'll never underestimate your knowledge again.

Scott's coat suddenly plopped on my shoulders, covering me up in a cosy atmosphere.

"Keep it," he said, looking the other way as he folded his arms.

Stripped of his coat, he was now in a black round neck. His cross-pendant necklace was on him and reflected the light from the vintage lamppost beside the bench. This was my first time seeing him in an outfit other than a coat; He still looked good, though. He always looked good.

"Thank you," I smiled and held onto the hem of the coat.
...
..
.

-------------
Tip: The only people who have seen Wendy's bare face are her family, her two friends, Thomas, and now, Scott.