Fashion Disaster

Chapter 4

"Oh. My. Gosh!" 

A dark-skinned girl bounced excitedly around me, violet eyes glittering with excitement as she tittered with enthusiastic questions and remarks.  

"Like, has anyone told you how pretty you are? Because to be honest? Would kill for your brows. Ooo, and I love your nose! So perky! So cute!" 

I flushed and stumbled for words; unsure as to how to respond. She was stunning, with irises a deep purple, and her full lips colored to match. She was definitely interesting: her words held a heavy British accent, something I'd heard only in the movies and TV shows.  

Just as I was sure the girl was going to ask another question, Grandmother came to my rescue. 

"Lola, we just got off an 8 hour flight and arrived earlier than expected. I'm sure Alice would appreciate some time... without your loud quirkiness." 

She slouched with a visible, overdramatic sigh. "Nannnnaaaaa!" Lola whined, eyes wide and pleading.  

But it didn't work on Grandmother. She turned away from Lola and instead to me, exasperated. "You will be sharing a room with Lola for the summer. Though she may be a bit—" Grandmother paused, as if searching for the right word, "—much at times, I'm sure the two of you will get along. Be ready soon!"  

Lola beamed, choosing to take that as a compliment. "So I guess I'll show you to our room then, huh?" 

I yawned, unable to muster much more than a small—albeit genuine—smile. Taking that as compliance, she took my hand in hers and led me through room after room, each expertly decorated and most with elaborate windows overlooking the Parisian sights. Land and busy streets and lights stretched out beyond them; seemingly never-ending. 

As if noticing my wandering gaze, Lola grinned. "I promise to try and take you out on a tour sometime. I remember when I first got here Nana hardly had any time to take me anywhere; I had to figure it all out on my own." Her lips pursed and eyes squinted, looking at something I couldn't see—perhaps recalling a memory? "But lucky for you, I'm here! I know when you first get here everything's pretty overwhelming." 

She turned the knob to the last door in the condo: which came to life with bright posters and glitter adorning every inch. It swung open with ease to reveal a room overflowing with exaggerated colors: vibrant yellows, brilliant blues, lovely shades of lavender... but mostly yellows. 

I noticeably winced at the sight. Grandma was right. It—she, even—was a little... much. 

Oblivious to my appalling glances, Lola threw herself down on a golden bean bag chair, which had begun to steadily swallow her figure. "Home sweet home." 

I looked around. Nothing about this felt even remotely like home. Home was back in Florida: with the hard cushions and peeling paint. Home definitely did not include radiantly pink bunk-beds with blankets so thick and plush it was like the snow I'd always wished to have. 

My luggage wheeled sadly behind me, and I placed a hand on the large sheet of glass that was to be my window. My breath fogged it up—just as the tears did my vision. 

Because home did not have a view of the Eiffel Tower in the distance or lights of buildings or busy cars winking at me in greeting. It did not have the sweet smell of perfume or a bubbly new roommate sitting in the corner.   

My hand fell back to my side in defeat. I suppose all of that was for a reason. Because this was not—and never would be—my home. 

*** 

(Adrian's P.O.V.) 

The world passed by me in a blur of colors, too quickly for me to make out any definite shapes. Despite the fact that I would be doing a shoot with one of my favorite people and the modeling business—and meeting their granddaughter—I still couldn't shake the heavy feeling weighting my chest.