Bullet Proof Chest (Sonny Moore/ Andy Biersack/ Kellin Quinn)

Seven: Cahil

"You're sure about this?" Rachael asks, staring at the pair of latex gloves that I have in my hand. I shove them at her and she puts them on. The truth is that I've never dyed my hair before. I've always wanted to--I'm sick of my dull brown hair. My mom thinks that dying it will ruin it. I'm always jealous of how shiny everyone else's hair looks after they color it. I can't see why that wouldn't be true for me.

"I'm positive," I nod. The concert is in only a few hours. I want to look sexy, if possible. I'm halfway unrealistic, day dreaming about meeting Pete Wentz.

Once my hair is dark brown, I take a scissors to it and chop at it every which way. I'd be concerned if I had never done this before, but since I was little, I've always wanted to be a beautician. This is most likely because I'd like to make other women feel beautiful because I can't make myself feel that way. I have boxes upon boxes of dolls and Barbies somewhere that I made over--each one progressively looking better than the one before. Once I was experienced enough with the dolls, I tried my hand at real hair. When I was good enough, I tried my own hair. The natural wave to my hair complicated things for a little bit, but I eventually got the hang of it.

I stand in front of my mirror, styling my hair so that it looks perfect. "Cay, your hair looks fine. Let's go eat," Rachael whines as I finish. I look over at her. She's laying on my bed, flipping through a magazine she had brought with her when she came over.

"We just did," I retort, brushing through my masterpiece. I push it up into a faux ponytail to give it some volume before dropping it back down. The ends tickle my collarbones.

"Well...I'm still hungry." She groans, picking up her purse. Rachael always seems to be hungry, though. It's probably why she isn't in the same shape that she used to be in. I don't try to notice her few extra pounds, but I can't help it, as I'm so conscious about my own weight.

"Rae..." I sigh, turning to face her.

"C'mon," she smiles. "I'm starving. And you hardly touched your fruit salad."

I shrug. There really isn't much that I can do. When Rachael wants something, she carries on about it until she gets it.

"Fine."

We walk out to my Black Honda Fit that's parked in the garage. It shines as though it's still brand new. I guess that's a plus for not being home ever. I love this car so much, it's not even funny. It's my baby and I miss it so much when I'm away at school. It's nothing fancy, but it's exactly what I want. The shape of it is still as impeccable as the day that my parents bought it for me.

Rachael wants a burger. No surprise there. I take her to the closest place with a drive-thru-- McDonald's. She places her order over me, then I pull up to the first window as directed by the cashier. Inside the window stands an awkward boy with his dirty blonde hair gelled into a faux-hawk. "Oh, he's cuuuute," Rachael whispers.

As we exchange money for food, and food for money, we catch each other's eyes, and I smile politely. He smiles back--proving himself to be even better looking than I had originally thought him to be.

"Thank you, Addison," I say smoothly, examining the name tag pinned to his chest. One of those lame Dyno labels is stuck on it.

"Do I know you?" Addison looks at me curiously, bearing his coffee bean eyes into me.I shift in my seat, uncomfortable.

"Nope," I laugh and wipe my hair away from my face. I'm already anticipating a question attack from the nosy Nelly in the passenger seat. It's inevitable. As soon as I drive away, she'll pounce.

"Then..." He looks somewhat dumbfounded. It takes every bit of self control I have to not roll my eyes. "How did you..." He trails off--cat got his tongue.