Mia Hill. College bound with an athletic scholarship. A go-getter with big dreams and a fully thought out plan to make sure they come true.
But with her father's release from prison looming and the inevitable stresses of adulting, everything she wa...
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There's nothing like a fresh haircut to kick off the start of summer. It's up there on the same level as that perfectly chosen outfit for the first day of school. You know the outfit. You know the hype.
Only, the flare of new clothes eventually goes away. It did for me, anyway. I've always been able to turn heads when I put the effort in, but at some point during sophomore year, comfort won over style. I got busier with football, started working a couple shifts at my dad's construction company after school, and classes became more challenging.
One day, I showed up at school in sweatpants and my whole life changed, especially when I began to notice, quickly, that girls tend to be huge fans of the sweatpants look.
Now, I haven't committed fully to the loungewear lifestyle, but it's awfully tempting sometimes. Particularly when you're the kind of person whose outward appearance has never had to compete with all the wonderful things your personality has to offer.
Like being fucking hilarious, naturally irresistable, athletic, and charming.
The haircut though? Nah. The hype of a good haircut has never gone away. And the benefits stretch far beyond what people see. It's the mood it puts you in, the vibe. That clean feeling afterwards, the smooth brush of a perfectly done fade, the unmatched softness from whatever magical product they spray on your hair before you leave the barbershop. There's nothing better.
Too bad I'm not actually experiencing any of that right now, though. Because Vito was fucking booked and no one touches my hair but him.
When it comes to certain things in life, I live by one very important rule. When you find someone who knows what the hell they're doing, never go to anyone else. Haircuts are at the top of that list. Followed closely by tattoos.
I run a hand through the overgrown jungle on my head, frustrated. And hot. Being hungover from the bonfire last night isn't helping matters.
I'm so fucking uncomfortable. Add the fact that the community center is the last place I want to be, and it's turning out to be a really shitty start to my last summer break. I'd rather be doing drywall at Adler Construction, and that's really saying a lot because I hate doing drywall. Which only made my parents' punishment all the more calculated when they condemned me here.
June comes out of nowhere, appearing right in my face with a crinkled brow as she takes me in with all the judgment. "Your hair needs cut."
"Shut up, June."
"Shut up, June," she mocks me, cackling. The sound grates on my pounding head. To her credit, though, she seems to notice my sour face and lightens up a touch, giving me a sympathetic smile. "I'm just messing with you."
