HAZEL
Yazmyn’s salon always smelled the same, like peppermint and acrylics.
Weirdly, I loved it. It brought a certain calm to my raging nervous system and the woman working on my nails, Lalita, was my favorite staff because she always did a great job on my hair and nails.
I mean, I could stop grinning at my freshly straightened hair in the mirror. But that smile died out the second I saw her walking into the salon in the mirror’s reflection.
Levita.
I groaned inwardly as the meaning of her presence dawned on me. It meant that the wonderful day I’d been having was about to be ruined, and that pissed me off because I’ve had very few good days lately.
The spoiled brat waltzed in like she owned the place, which wasn’t surprising. If privilege had a face, it wore six-inch heels and a
