Foolish One

like you were in this room

I made a hair appointment. It's the only thing i've done in four days. I've ordered takeout six times, taken eight showers for the hell of it, and most of all- watched "The Nanny" for the millionth time.

See I want what Fran has. She just has the perfect guy fall in love with her no problem. Where is mine?

Today is Wednesday, my date is Friday. I plan on fully preparing for this thing. I need to get back out there. In the ocean. Of fish.

I have a full body wax at 10, a hair appointment at 1 and nails Friday morning. Everything is planned and perfect.

The wax goes well, I come out feeling smoother than silk sheets. As I walk into my hair appointment I feel a level of adrenaline that I haven't felt since I was a runaway bride looking for myself in every mirror but finding nothing. So I dyed my hair blonde.

"I want bleach blonde hair." I say in full confidence.

I sit there for six hours until I look like Taylor Swift in 2016. Except I kept my long hair this time.

My hair is thicker than hers so it's blunter, and my bangs are thinner. In London, my hair was short and my bangs were thick, very European of me.

I look like a whole different person. I even feel different. It's like finding your old self, I see it as exploring new parts of yourself. Experimenting.

I pay, throw on my sunglasses and strut out of that salon. It was a really nice day out. No paparazzi in sight. I guess they only appear when I meet super hot guys. Funny how that works.

One thing about being blonde is no one knows who the hell I am. It's quite refreshing.

I just look like a normal girl, I feel like a normal girl. As I shove my airpods in my ears I have a little pep to my step.

"You Need To Calm Down"

People hate this song. For absolutely no reason. They hate joy. I avoid the cracks in the sidewalk for the sake of my mother- which reminds me that I need to stop believing superstitions.

"Can you stop?" I sing quietly.

There's no one around me. I'm in Greenwich. The perfect environment for this shit.

When I make my way back to my apartment, I notice a silver porsche in the street parked. If only he would've called first I would've stocked my fridge for him.

I smile. He always comes crawling back every couple months. I'm practically his therapist.

I make my way up my stairs to turn into my hallway, I find Sawyer sitting on the ground facing my door.

It's a pathetic site to see.

"Whatcha doing here?" I say not looking at him but digging for my key.

I catch him off guard, he jumps to his feet and scrambles over to me embracing me in one of his famous hugs. They're warm and cozy and he always smells good.

I pull out my key and open my apartment to the both of us, as we step inside I take my purse off and set my keys down.

"I wanted to check up on you." He says closing my door behind him and helping himself to my kitchen.

I look at him in confusion for a few seconds. Until I realise he's talking about Rhodes. His engagement. It kinda pisses me off that people think I need checking up on.

"Oh, yeah I'm all good." I say as I wave it off.

He looks like he doesn't buy it at all. Sawyer always had a special way of telling my mood. He was always like a brother to me. Until our little falling out. When we were little, he used to follow me around my house nagging me to tell him what was the matter with me that day.