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Cherri plops down on the sofa, hands filled with her bag of loose nail supplies. She breathes through a wave of nausea as she unpacks the nail polishes, file, and the cuticle pusher that she still isn’t sure does anything, but Angel insists it does so she keeps using it. The coffee table in front of her is now cluttered with her at home nail salon.
She grabs the bottle of white polish, gives it a good shake, and uncaps the lid. She brushes off the access polish on the lip of the bottle before bringing it to the nail of her thumb and drags it across. Her fingers tremble and leave behind a shaky swipe of color on her nail, but she miraculously manages to keep it off of her skin.
On the next pass, however, Cherri isn’t so lucky. Her hand shakes too much that by the time the brush meets her finger, it smears up the side of her thumb and hits more skin than nail. She groans and drops the applicator on the table to grab one of the napkins from the holder that Pentious kept in the middle of the coffee table.
“Fuckin’ Charlie,” Cherri grumbles to herself as she wipes at the quickly drying polish on her skin. She knows deep down that she has nobody else, really, to blame but herself for her current predicament. But her sour stomach and shaky hands warrant a little projection, she thinks. “‘Just give it a week’, bet you couldn’t last this long, princess.”
Cherri tosses the soiled napkin to the side and picks the applicator back up. She takes a deep, centering breath and takes another swipe at her nail. When just a little bit ends up on her skin, she ignores it and continues to put the first coat on the rest of her nails.
The problem comes whenever Cherri switches hands. She's never really been that good at painting her nails with her non-dominant hand to begin with, but she has always made it work. Now, however, her hand trembles so much that she can barely get her fingers to coordinate correctly to even get remotely close to her nail.
“Goddammit!” Cherri yells and throws the applicator onto the table. It skitters across the wood, leaving white specks in its wake. She rubs her hands roughly across her face and swallows through another wave of nausea. She should have never agreed to this shit. She looks for her phone, fingers itching to text the guy her and Angel most frequently bought from. What harm could it do, really?
Pentious pokes his head into their living room with a look of concern on his face. “Is everything okay?”
Cherri's stomach sours even further with guilt as she remembers the entire reason she decided to get clean in the first place. Pentious.
Too many times he had to clean her up or clean up after her. After a long bender that left her feeling worse than she had in a while, she finally saw just how exhausted Pentious looked. The bags under his eyes as he wiped dried vomit off her face and their sheets haunted her.
One day at a time
, Charlie’s voice echoes in Cherri’s mind and she tries to ignore that gnawing need to use. She instead deflates back into the sofa and gestures to the mess on the table. “Can’t paint my fuckin’ nails.”
Pentious relaxes and makes his way over to take a seat next to her on their sofa. He surveys the bottles and pointedly ignores the specks of white polish on the table that any other day he may have mentioned.
“Could I try?”
Cherri’s eye widens in surprise. “S-sure.”
Pentious hums in approval as he grabs the applicator off of the table top, dips it back into the bottle, brushes off the access and holds out his hand for Cherri’s. Her fingers tremble, but he says nothing as he swipes the brush over her nail in perfect strokes.
Cherri silently watches as he puts down the first coat, each stroke perfect and not getting on the skin once. Softly, she praises, “You’re good at this.”
“Am I?” Pentious asks shyly. A hint of blush creeps into his cheeks as he sets her hand down in her lap to dry. “This is my first time.”
A smirk creeps across Cherri’s face. “Not the first thing you were good at first time, huh babe?”
Pentious sputters as he picks up her other hand and surveys it. His eyes scrutinize the work she did on her own nails before glancing up to look at her cautiously. “This looks a bit uneven. Should I do another coat?”
“Is it dry?”
Pentious passes a thumb over each of Cherri’s nails carefully, checking the pad of it after each one to see if any polish transferred onto it. When Cherri sees that his finger is clear, she gestures to the applicator in his other hand. “Another pass wouldn’t hurt.”
Cherri watches again in awe as Pentious perfectly paints each nail with ease and care. When he’s done, he sets the other hand down carefully in her lap to dry with the other. When he puts the applicator back in the bottle and sets it on the table, Cherri gets another wave of nausea that she breathes through slowly.
“Would you like me to get you some crackers?” Pentious is already on the edge of his seat, body tense in a way that tells her that he’s seconds from getting up to scurry off to the kitchen.
“Nah, I’m good.” Cherri waves it off like detoxing is nothing and not the worst experience she’s ever had ever.
Pentious eyes her suspiciously, but ends up relaxing into the sofa with her as they wait for her nails to dry. The back of his hand brushes gently against her arm absentmindedly as he looks at all of the tools still on the table.
“What does this do?” Pentious points to a brush that looks more like a pen than the applicator they had been using. He leans forward and picks it up to inspect it and Cherri mourns the loss of skin-to-skin contact.
“It’s a detailing brush,” Cherri points to the thin, small brush tip. “Angie got it for me to do designs or some shit. I haven’t used it yet.”
“Hm.” Pentious examines it closer and then looks back at the bottles and tools on the table. He picks up a bottle of red and stares at it for a long moment before he asks, “Could I try designing something?”
Cherri snorts and she holds out her shaky hand again. “Be my guest.” When Pentious starts to uncap the bottle of red polish, she motions and says, “Shake it first.”
“Shake it? What does that do?” Pentious asks as he shakes the bottle in the same motion she had done.
“No fuckin’ clue. I’ve just always done it because others do.” Cherri shrugs and Pentious chuckles before he uncaps the bottle and sets it aside in favor of using the detailing brush.
Pentious dips the new brush into the polish and follows the same routine as before of wiping the excess off on the lip of the bottle. He worries at his lip before his eyes spark and he’s bringing the detail brush to Cherri’s now dry nails.
“Whatcha designing?”
“You’ll see.”
“What if I don’t like it?”
“You will.”
Cherri huffs before she relaxes and lets Pentious paint to his heart’s content. She can feel the warm puff of his breath against her fingers with how closely he holds them to his face. It’s a nice sensation that by the time he starts working on her other hand, she’s fighting to keep her eye open.
“How do you like it?” Pentious asks while setting the detail brush carefully next to the bottle on the table. He looks a bit nervous, but more excited than anything. It’s the same thrum of energy that possesses him whenever he shows her new blueprints.
Cherri doesn’t bother biting back the smile at his antics. He’s too cute to pretend otherwise.
Instead, she brings her nails up to her face and her breath catches. On each nail, Pentious has drawn tiny red bombs and loops that mimic the tattoo sleeve on her arm. Each nail is different, but he’s painted it in a way that it all flows together.
Before Cherri says anything, she leans over to plant a kiss on his cheek. “I love it!”
“You do?”
Cherri admires her nails and nods. “This is better than anything I could ever do. Shaky ass hands or not.”
A grin splits Pentious’s face and that same hint of blush creeps up in his cheeks again. He brings one of Cherri’s hands back up to his face, makes a show of inspecting his design, and then plants small kisses along her knuckles.
“Thank you, sweetheart, for letting me help. I enjoyed this more than I thought I would.”
Cherri’s face heats as he keeps kissing her hand, minding the polish as he goes. “Y-you should paint them from now on.”
Pentious smiles against her skin. “I’m not opposed to that.”