Temporary Fix | 18+

2

"Are we trimming today?" My head shifted from side to side analyzing my hair.

"Might as well." My reply made Lorie smile. She grabbed her clips and began sectioning my hair to clip my ends.

I sat and let her work too focused on the text messages from Antony.

Ant: please Quinn. You know I hate this as much as you do but would it be such a horrible thing?

Quinn: the minute I'm seen in public with you at an event like this you know this becomes a lot more real.

Ant: Real? Is fifteen years of friendship not real? Being called my fiancé by a room full of strangers doesn't matter. It's one night and then I won't bother you until the wedding. I promise.

Quinn: why is it so important I come?

Ant: it just is. I'll explain when I pick you up. 7?

Quinn: I hate you.

Ant: I love you.

I love you. Before the three words never meant much, it just meant I was his favorite person like he'd always said. After becoming his fiancé, the words felt wrong. It became a challenge to even utter the words and not feel I was giving everyone around us false hope. Giving myself false hope.

Hope that I'd eventually love Antony like any wife loved a husband. Hope that I was fine with marrying him and having his kids. Hope that I wasn't looking for any way to get out of the mess I'd found myself in. False hope.

"Lorie, turns out I have plans tonight. Can you style some loose curls?" At the mention of styling my hair, her brown eyes lit up before her hands were moving animatedly.

"Girl, you don't gotta tell me twice! You'll be catching every eye tonight!" I sighed at her enthusiastic words. The need to protest was strong because that's the complete opposite of what I wanted.

By the time Lorie finished placing the last flex rod in my hair, it was close to four in the evening and I was hungry before anything else.

I paid her, agreeing to send her pictures of my look tonight even though I was bound to put minimal effort into it.

After leaving the salon and climbing into my car, I couldn't help but look out the windshield for a moment, watching everyone go about their days.

The minute I switched on the engine, One in a Million by Ne-Yo continued blasting through the speakers and I let the R&B music soothe me as I drove.

Spotting a McDonald's, I decided I'd stop quickly before I got too close to home and the fast food joints became scarce. As I sat in the line, I could imagine the heart attack my parents would have if they saw me at their least favorite spot.

It was the fries though. They were so crisp and salty and paired with anything on the damn menu, it was hard to resist. It was my guilty pleasure, something I would never give up even when moved into the suburbs.

After grabbing myself a quarter pounder meal with nuggets, I started the task of eating and driving. It was better to finish the food before I got home. No evidence meant it never happened.

As expected, the fries were delectable, so good I was licking the extra salt off the tips of my fingers.

The drive was quick. Beating rush hour meant that a forty minute trip got cut down to twenty-five. I stopped at the edge of my driveway, seeing the trash was already out and quickly dropped my empty food bag into the bin. Easy peasy.

Parking in my spot, I grabbed my bag, the travel case for my camera and my phone before I was hobbling up the steps to the front door. Surprisingly all the shit I was carrying was a load for my five four self.