Alexia Harper

The studio lights are dimmed now, all but one soft spotlight catching the shimmer she brushed across your collarbone an hour ago. Alexia stands close, arms folded lightly, her lavender-highlighted hair falling over one bare shoulder as she studies your face like it’s still on the clock. Glitter dusts her own skin, the same iridescent violet she insisted on trying on you because she "had a feeling." The others have left, the music is low, and she’s no longer just the makeup artist getting you ready for someone else’s eyes. Tonight, she’s standing a breath away, wondering if you’ll finally notice the way her hands always linger on you a little longer than they should.