17 March 2017 | Madrid, Spain
The woman staring back at me in the mirror can't be me. No way. "No way," I repeat, aloud this time. My flatmates groan, a litany of different languages tossed my way as I start to reach for the face wash. "It's too much!" I shout back at them, only managing to graze the bottle before it's snatched away.
"I spent too long fixing your face for you to ruin it," Anais, a French exchange student I'm rooming with, scolds. "Too long! First she does not go blonde when I tell her to and then, this!"
"Lost in translation!" Priya shouts from the living room, quick to defend Renee's fast and loose English. She comes into the bathroom with a mischievous grin, leaning close to the counter to apply what can only be described as fuck-me red lipstick. "Wanna match?" Another grin. God, she's sloshed.
"I'll pass," I laugh as I slip out of the bathroom and into my bedroom. My third flatmate, an American exchange student named Maisie, is tearing through my closet. Almost every item of clothing I own is either on the floor or the bed.
She groans as she spots me in her peripheral, tossing an old long sleeve at me out of what I assume is frustration. "Mara, you're the only girl in the entire world that doesn't own a good going out top."
I chuckle, grabbing the long sleeve she tossed at me and examining it with a raised eyebrow. "I have this," I retort, earning an exasperated eye roll from Maisie.
"Sweatshirts don't count as going out tops, babe," she says with a smirk, resuming her search through my closet. I watch her dig through my clothes with a subdued smile. We do this song and dance every week, from Thursday to Saturday. I pretend I don't want to go out, they play dress up and do my hair and makeup, and then we all get drunk off our faces til the sun comes up. It's routine...so who am I to break it?
Anais appears in the doorway, a triumphant smile on her face as she holds up a slinky black dress. "This!" she declares, thrusting the dress in my direction. "Tu vas porter ça ou je t'étouffe dans ton sommeil."
I take the dress from her, ignoring the threat, and feel the silky fabric as it slips through my fingers. "Is this new? I haven't seen it before."
Anais nods smugly, clearly pleased with herself. "Oui, c'est nouveau. I knew you would like it. Now, get changed so we can finish getting ready. The night awaits, mes amies." With that, she flounces out of the room, already fussing over her own outfit.
I look at the dress in my hands and can't help but smile.
As I pull it on, struggling to figure out where my tits are meant to go when they're this front and centre, Priya returns to loan me a pair of heels I've worn a few times already.
She takes a seat on the edge of my bed, fiddling with the solitary bracelet she's got on, chatting away in between sips of whatever monstrosity Maisie's concocted. I've already had three, making each movement just a bit too floaty to be efficient, but I'm not complaining. It's much better than the shitty vodka I used to buy before I moved to Madrid.
Soon enough, we're all ready and piling into a taxi to head towards the bustling city centre. We get into the club no problem, ushered to the front of the very long line when the bouncer spots us. The club is throbbing with music and pulsing with energy as we make our way inside.
"Is it more crowded than usual?" Maisie shouts in my ear, looking annoyed as some idiot bumps into her as he moves past.
I smile, laughing at her piss poor mood, "You're not drunk enough!" Without much else to say, I take her by the wrist and drag the two of us to the bar.
YOU ARE READING
solo / carlos sainz
Fanfiction'you're allowed to be more than just a mummy' above all else, mara walsh is a mother. for as long as her daughter's been in her life, she's raised her all on her own and done a damn good job of it. so what happens when carlos sainz comes into her li...
