"I guess that's how it's gonna be in Florida,"
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Saylor Mcray hasn't been in a stable condition or relationship since she ended things with her girlfriend of two years. She kisses person after person, but her body continues to crave the one thing th...
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- Saylor -
She never was a heavy sleeper, but Florida had awoken something inside of her... or maybe it was simply the hangover. Saylor groaned as the light peaked through her paper-thin blinds, and buried her head under her pillow. The air was warm and muggy, probably because she left the heating on before she stumbled into bed.
Today was the reset day; the day she'd been waiting her whole life for. Today Saylor was to be reborn as someone who's never drank just to forget the way their ex-girlfriend laughed, or someone who's never driven their car into a ditch because they were listening to This Is Me Trying too loud... or someone who has never heard of anyone named Audrey Evelyn. Goodbye, past Saylor. Hello, Florida.
"Maisie?" Saylor whispered, stepping into her living room. Maisie was sprawled out across the sofa, a towel draped across her face. She made a sleepy little noise. "Mhm, what?" she grumbled. "Why are you on my sofa?" at that, Maisie pulled the towel off her face and sat up. "Too tired last night and Dan was being annoying," she said, as though she was remembering it as the words left her mouth. She held her arm up, checking the time. "You're supposed to be at work," she stated, matter-of-factly, before flopping back down on the couch.
Saylor felt her stomach sour, and she grabbed her phone off the kitchen island. Oh shit. 10.07am. "Shit!" she hissed, grabbing her shoes from by the door. Guess she was showing up in sweats and a tank top, how classy. "Lock up when you leave," she called to Maisie, dashing out the door before her brain could catch up with her actions.
It took her a moment to work out why her Uber driver had looked at her funny. Printed in big, bold writing across Saylor's tank top was 'I eat bath bombs when the Bath & Body Works employees aren't looking'. It had been a present from her sister, Liv, gifted along with a rose-smelling lotion and of course, a bath bomb. "It was, uh, a-a present from my sister- I don't actually eat bath bombs...!" she tried to explain, starting to attempt at fixing her hair. The Uber driver just smiled sympathetically, not his first time experiencing the 'I'm late!' rambling.
If she wasn't hungover, and wasn't flapping around like a headless chicken, Florida would've been the most beautiful place Saylor had ever seen. But unfortunately, she spent the drive desperately trying to curl her lashes using her fingers, and straighten out her hair, all while humming Gracie Abrams under her breath in hopes of self-soothing.
As the Uber came to a stop at the photography studio, it really hit her. She was about to walk into her dream job wearing a stupid tank top, smelling like booze and morning, and looking like she just rolled out of a birds nest; which in some ways she had. Maybe new Saylor wouldn't care about this sort of thing, but unfortunately, she hadn't arrived yet. Old Saylor was still there, and she wanted to rip off the stupid tank top and stamp on it.
"Thank you," she muttered to the driver, who simply chucked in response. Saylor rolled her eyes and transferred the money for the ride in her Uber app. $45 dollars for a 20 minute car ride... maybe new Saylor would be able to afford this, but she was running later than old Saylor.
The studio was nothing special. Saylor had imagined a chorus of joyous voices sounding out in her mind the second she'd step through the doors, but instead she was hit by the intense smell of wet paint. She gagged and pinched her noise.
"Name," the desk lady grunted, looking up. Her face brightened when she took in Saylor's face. "Oh! It's you, Sasha Mcray!" "Saylor," Saylor corrected, chuckling. The old lady shook her head. "Deary me, I told the team Sasha... I hope they didn't personalise anything and whatnot."
Small talk hated Saylor, but she seemed to attract it even so. She was so bad at it. Every reply was stuttery, like she was only just now learning how to use her tongue. But this old lady seemed to love it, as every time Saylor tried to step away with her new ID card towards the elevator, she was reeled back in by the lady's poor attempts at conversation. She spent an extra 15 minutes discussing hydrangeas, which apparently are incredibly beautiful and should be treasured.
Once she was finally out of the evil grasps of awkward conversation, she rode the elevator to the 4th floor, and mentally prepared herself to meet the team. Makeup artist, stylist, hair dresser, creative director, and the photographer. It wasn't that she didn't like meeting new people, she was just a little introverted. That's why modelling was good. She could be the centre of attention without having to say a single word.
The photographer and the creative director were running late, but according to Saylor's makeup artist, Caitlyn, they were carpooling and stuck it traffic. Saylor listened to her bitch about the creative director for what felt like a year, as her face was brutally powdered and pasted into a picture perfect pout. Apparently he had a thing for newbies, and that she should keep her distance when out of the cameras view. She wasn't the only newbie on the set though, the photographer was new, and the hair dresser was an intern. That reassured her; she could make mistakes today.
"Oh! You must be my new beautiful face! I'm Todd,"he had to be the creative director. Saylor could just tell. Skinny jeans and a too tight shirt, and slippers. Guess this was a laid back set, (she'd been promised no one would judge her tank top). It didn't matter though when she'd be getting changed now.
The dress had many layers, but it was a little revealing, and really flattering. Saylor felt like a princess. She couldn't believe she got to wear this on the cover of a magazine for everyone to see. New Saylor was peaking out from behind the clouds, she getting ready to make an appearance. Following her stylist back out to the set, she felt butterflies in her stomach. This was it.
She blinked hard, staring at the girl behind the camera. The girl laughed. But Saylor knew that laugh. It belonged to the face she tried desperately to drink out of her brain.
Audrey fucking Evelyn.
A/N Hope y'all enjoyed that chapter! If you can't already tell I hate slow burns and I just wanna get into the good stuff haha. Don't forget to comment and vote! Tullie xx
