oxygen (e.d.)

chapter eighteen

•sloane•

a/n: pay attention to pov changes. it's SLOANE rn.

"you can't be serious." wyatt gapes.

"i wouldn't have said the idea if i weren't serious," i roll my eyes.

riley really wants ethan back.

and what my best friend wants, she gets.

"so, uh," he scratches his head, "how do we pull this off?"

"call grayson. tell him to meet us in the parking lot of the hair salon on main."

"sloane. this is... cruel."

"do you want your sister to be happy?"

"well yeah but-"

"then shut up and do as i say."

he quickly nods and folds up the paper where the plan is written and mapped out.

i'm not gonna lie, this is even too far for me.

20 minutes later i stand in the parking lot, anxiously biting my nails as grayson and wyatt go over the plan multiple times.

"ethan isn't going to break up with her only because of this, you know?" grayson says to me.

"it's step one."

"well played," he smirks.

we sneak around to the back entrance of dianne's hair salon and i knock on the door 7 times.

my friend from middle school opens the door and i slip her a 20.

"get in before you get me fired," she whispers urgently.

i see wyatt shoot a nervous glance to grayson in the corner of my eye, but ignore it.

i have a task on hand today.

"when's her appointment?" i ask.

"she just got seated in a chair. i told her that an employee would be out to get her started shortly."

i grab an apron off the hooks in the break room, and look at the name tag.

looks like i'm jenny today.

"you guys got the plan?" i ask grayson and wyatt as i tie it behind my back.

"yes." wyatt nods.

"i'm counting on you."

i disappear into the work floor and put on a big smile.

i spot her sickening red hair and walk over to her, trying to be as graceful as possible.

"rowen, dear?" i ask in an elegant voice, totally different from my own.

she looks up from her phone and spots me behind her in the mirror.

"you're not becca," she frowns.

i swivel her chair to face me and put on my best smile.

"becca is, erm- sick today."

"okay," she says slowly, serving me a side eye, "do you know my appointment orders?"

"just a redye?" i fight the urge to ask in a bland tone.

"yes please. make it look as natural as possible."

"you know it, honey. wouldn't want people to think it's not your natural color, am i right?" i say, dripping with sarcasm.

"oh god," she laughs, "that'd be embarrassing."

i lean her head back under the sink and rinse her hair with shampoo and conditioner.