Page 124 of Small Town Firsts

She flounces into my room not even two seconds later, her arms loaded down with shopping bags. “Get out of bed. We have plans.”

I sink deeper into my plush bedding. “Do we have to?”

She scrunches up her nose as she takes in my rumpled appearance. “Yes. We very much do. Seriously, get up. I booked us at the salon.”

At this I perk up—after all, a little pampering certainly can’t hurt. In fact, I’d say it’s just what the doctor ordered.

I amble into my closet and come back out dressed in cropped yoga leggings and an oversized T-shirt. “Ready.”

“Great. Let’s go.” She starts for the door, but then stops and turns back to me. “Oh! Give me your phone. Today’s about us.” Begrudgingly, I do as she says.

Stacia drives us across town to Color Me Crazy—our salon of choice. “Any idea whatcha want done?” she asks me as she whips her little coupe into a spot in front of the shop.

“I dunno yet. I’ve been toying with the idea of adding some purple. We’ll see. What about you?”

With a waggle of her brows, she says, “As blonde as possible. Maybe even silver.”

“Ooh!” I clap my hands together. “Yes! Do that!”

We enter the funky little salon, which is housed in two pink-painted shipping containers that have been welded together. Music is pumping through the speakers, loud enough to be heard over the whirring of the hair dryers. So loud, in fact, the receptionist has to raise her voice to speak to us.

Once we enter the main area, it’s a little quieter, but I’m not complaining either way. “Hey girl!” Alessia, my stylist, greets me. “Long time no see!”

I plop down into her chair, eager for her to work her magic. “The perks of being a natural blonde. But…I want to change it up today.”

“Okay. Tired of the pink?”

“No. I just…it’s time for a change.” I twist my fingers together. “New hair, new me, right?”

“Girl. You are fabulous as is. So, why are you looking for a ‘new you?’?”

I heave out a deep sigh. “Just a lot going on, and I need a pick me up.”

“I can get behind that. Let’s talk—whatcha wanna do?”

“I’d show you a picture, but Stacia’s confiscated my phone.”

Alessia fishes her phone out of her apron pocket and asks me what to search for. A few taps and swipes later, she’s gushing about my proposed new look. “Girl! No lie, I pinned thisexactpic last night. Oh-em-gee! I’m so excited!”

Four hours later, Stacia and I are all finished—me with a root-y ombre that fades from a dark purple to shades of pink, giving way to almost translucent white ends, and Stacia with a pretty silvery hue.

“What next?” I ask, because knowing her, our day is just beginning.

“Mani and pedis. Duh.”

By the timewe make it back to my apartment, I’ve been waxed, plucked, scrubbed, masked, and moisturized within an inch of my life. I swear to God, I could put a gold-medal-winning show dog to shame in the primping department right about now.

“Now we can relax?” I ask with a hopeful tone. “Maybe eat some ice cream, watch somePLL?”

“No can do, bit-chacho.” I give her a toddler-worthy whine and shoulder shimmy, but Stacia ignores my antics. “We have plans tonight and going is non-negotiable. Sorry, not sorry.”

All I offer her in return is a blank stare. But she’s in no mood to deal with my shit. “C’mon, AJ. Time to get you lookin’ extra pretty.”

“Do I have to dress up?” I really don’t want to dress up. As stupid and immature as it is, the last time I got all gussied up, I found out that the love of my life viewed me as nothing more than a hot little premarital rebellion.

“You absolutely do. And I get to pick your outfit.”

“And let me guess…you also get to do my makeup?”

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