Diana's P. O. V
Makela dropped by to visit but ended up sleeping over, sharing my old onesies. Her mind was also occupied with something as well, she was distant at practice earlier on.
"Do you know what you're doing?." She asked me, I offered to give her a make over, and for some reason she agreed to it.
"I apply my own make up myself." I announced with confidence in my voice. "That's what worries me." She muttered loud enough to be heard.
"I noticed you weren't giving your all at practice." I pointed out, making conversation with her. Being Makela she ignored me, and continued typing into her phone, as though I didn't ask her anything important.
"Am just concerned over you." I sincerely said, hoping that things with her dad didn't go south all of a sudden.
"It's Michael." She voiced out, as though Michael was just some ordinary person in my life. The brush fell from my hand, on top of the blue onesie.