34. Soft Boy

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oh, my fuck. i graduated high school 3 days ago, and i'm so emo. i already miss my friends so much, it's kind of unreal. to see just how sappy i am, go on my Instagram to see my emo posts :-( my user's summerrnawazz ((make sure you realize there are 2 r's and 2 z's.)

((THE PIC I HAVE WITH THE BOY IS THE DUDE I'VE LIKED FOR 3939 YEARS JUST SO YOU KNOW))

tomorrow, i leave for Pakistan and don't come back until August 1st. it's highly unlikely that i will post for the month that i'm gone, just a warning. i'll try to write, but i'm on vacation and seeing my grandparents, uncles, aunts, & cousins after two years.

it's gonna be wild.

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Chapter 34—Soft Boy

Klara's POV:

Waking up in New York was like a dream.

Every time I did, I would sit up in bed and stretch, before leisurely making my way over to the large windows that hid behind the heavy drapes. With a grin, I would pull them apart, the rings on top of the curtain rod zinging as they went and sunshine filtered into the room, brightening it up.

Buildings would be surrounding me, but that didn't stop daylight from flooding in, and I looked down to see the busy streets of the city, everyone hustling and bustling to get to where they needed to be. There was something about the city life that spoke to me; how no one paid too much attention to you—unless you were the Naked Cowboy—and everyone minded their own business and kept to themselves.

I enjoyed that so much. When nobody recognized me, I could shamelessly walk the streets, camouflaged by the several hundreds of people surrounding me.

My eyes narrowed, thoughts lingering on the fact that I loved being unrecognized. Suddenly, a brilliant thought crossed my mind, and I grabbed my phone to call my hair stylist for whenever I was in New York, scheduling a quick appointment up here in my room and asking her to get here as soon as she could. Vin was still asleep, so I could get what I needed to get done fairly quickly. Besides, it was extremely early in the morning, and I was sure jet lag had done its job on Vin.

Thankfully, my hair stylist, Genevieve, arrived at my hotel room door within fifteen minutes, a grin on her face and a bag of hair dying supplies. She immediately brought me to the large bathroom, where I sat on chair that was inside as she wore the plastic gloves and began working on my hair.

"You know this would've been a lot easier if you just came to the salon, right?" she inquired in her American accent, a light laugh escaping her lips as I felt her carefully pull at my hair.

I wrinkled my nose at the strong smell of hair dye invading my senses. "Yeah, but I didn't want to leave the hotel just yet. You know, paps and all."

"Understandable," she hummed, before going back to working on my hair.

The part where Genevieve had to dye my hair was over with soon enough, but then I had to wait a certain time until I could wash off the dye to get the color I wanted. We waited in the bathroom, with myself sitting on the chair and Genevieve sitting on the closed toilet seat.

"What's with the joint door being open?" she questioned, referring to the door that connected mine and Vin's rooms. "Is Leah here too?"

I cleared my throat lightly, glancing up from my phone that had Twitter open. "No," I responded, catching her curious gaze. "I brought a friend with me, from back home. Never been out of England, so I decided to show him New York."

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