aesthetic

one

Australia is hot. Like, sweaty armpit stains hot. Don't get me wrong, I like warm weather, but Australia is some crazy, next-level, hotter-than-the-sun type shįt. And wearing black skinny jeans and mostly black shirts doesn't do me any favors.

Last week, my parents decided they wanted a fresh start, but not in the States, and so they decided to pack everything up out of the blue and bring their children to some random country far from the "corrupt ways of America."

Today is Saturday, two days before I start school, and I'm at the downtown mall, picking out some new outfits.

I hum along to Tally It Up, Let's Settle The Score by Sleeping With Sirens and peruse the band shirts folded neatly against the wall in Hot Topic. I pick up a Green Day shirt and hang it over my arm. I grab a few more shirts, with bands like The All-American Rejects and Fall Out Boy on them, then move on to my favorite brand of skinny jeans: lovesick. I pick out three pairs of black, two pairs of dark blue acid wash, and one pair of light denim skinny jeans. While going through the rubber bracelets rack, someone taps me on the shoulder and I turn around, knocking a bunch of bracelets off the rack with my armload of clothes.

"Ugh fuçk," I mutter, at both the person standing in front of me and the bracelets on the floor. I pull my earbuds out. This person is a guy. A very hot guy. With short, wavyish brown hair that has a streak of blonde in it, a pair of warm chocolate eyes and a plump set of lips, a nice shade of dark pink. He looks kind of Asian.

"Dirty mouth," the guy comments. I sort of melt at his accent, which is obviously Australian. I sink to the floor, lazily gather the bracelets, and hang them back on the rack.

"So my friend, Michael, he's over there," the guy gestures to the corner of the store, where a cute guy with wild galaxy hair was milling around, "was wondering what color your hair is. He's been looking for a new color." He has a lisp. That's adorable.

"Lilac," I answer. The guy's lips raise into a smile. I feel self conscious, which I knew when I dyed my hair was a feeling I'd have to get used to because of the bright color. But nonetheless, I liked the color, and dyed it anyway. That was seven weeks ago, which means I need more dye. Ugh. That shįt is expensive. Great, now -

"You aren't from here are you," he says, derailing my train of thought. It wasn't really a question, but I nod.

"I'm Calum."

"Kylie," I reply. His smile widens into a grin.

"Pretty name. Fits a pretty girl like you."

I blush and look down at my black combat boots. Calum walks back over to Michael, but not before winking at me, and I grab five batman bracelets before checking out.

The mall here in Australia isn't as big as the malls back in Jacksonville, Florida. Those malls were easy to get lost in. This mall is easy to get bored in. It has a Hot Topic, Forever 21, American Eagle, Macy's, Justice, Vans, Journey's, Tops, small food court, and a hair salon called Hair Style. Not too many options.

Instead of leaving, I visit the food court. It was around lunchtime, and the food back at the house wasn't unloaded yet, so why not? I scan the food shops until I spot a Chinese place near the bathrooms, and proceed to order orange and bourbon chicken with white rice and a large coke. I decide to eat here and pick a nice booth not too close, but not too far away from the large black TV hanging on the ceiling. Radioactive by Imagine Dragons is playing, so I don't put my earbuds back in.

So maybe Australia has some upsides: hot guys with hot accents. And I'm not like, shallow or anything, but honestly, who doesn't love a hot guy? With a hot accent? I mean, I'm only a girl.