(Third Person POV)
Dressed in her silky nighties, Lorraine sat before a large ornate mirror in her lavish room—far too spacious for one girl. She gathered her soft, red hair into a loose ponytail, the strands slipping like threads through her fingers.
Her eyes met her reflection, and she touched her plush lips, sighing.
What the hell happened to me today at school? Why did my heart beat so fast when I stared at him?
The thoughts wouldn't stop spiraling in her mind. She reached for her moisturizer, massaging it gently into her face, followed by a soothing layer of night gel. Then, as always, she applied her mosquito repellent.
Lorraine was the kind of girl who couldn't stand filth. Even the mere landing of a fly on her smooth skin felt like an insult. That's why she never bothered with boys. The thought of getting close—really close—to one repulsed her. The idea of lips locking in a kiss, of all things, made her stomach churn.
