Saturday. At the salon for our hair appointment... Eight days before midterm.
Sloane and I were seated side by side at Soleil Luxe, a high-end salon nestled along the Wilshire strip, draped in matching black capes and sipping on cucumber-infused water like it was champagne. The place smelled like coconut oil and honey.
“I swear,” Sloane muttered, scrolling through her phone, “if I see one more group project pop up in my email before midterms, I’m going to fake an emotional breakdown. I’ll cry. Ugly cry.”
I laughed, adjusting the cape around my neck. “You already cried over that macroeconomics quiz.”
“Because that was a betrayal,” she said dramatically. “But seriously, after midterms. I’m doing nothing but sleeping, brunch, and bad decisions. In that order.”
I smirked, letting my
