Page 5 of Sparks Fly
I go to open my mouth but don’t have a chance to get the words out.
“So, you’re going to get yourself ready, go to your booked laser appointment, and get some cute nails, because whether you like it or not, you’re getting on that plane tomorrow to Monaco.”
My hand comes up to my face as I drop into my palm.
“But—"
“Goodbye,” she cuts me off.
I slump on the bed then let myself fall back, eyes pinned to the ceiling.
I had two choices, stay here and self-wallow about my ex-boyfriend, or go to Monaco and find myself again.
After a moment or two of flitting back between a list of pros and cons, I settle on the latter.
Walkinginto the sleek clinic in Chelsea, I document my trip and vlog as I go. No editing here today, just the raw footage of me about to get my final session of hair removal. I smile at the camera and make sure to tag the clinic before I stop the video. Pressing save before I upload it to all social media platforms and within minutes, the notifications are tumbling in.
“Hey Anaïs, how are you?” Lorna says from behind the desk as I pass her an iced vanilla matcha.
“I’ve been better.” I lift my glasses from my eyes and place them on my head.
“We’re sorry,” Brontë says as she slips around the corner, and I hold my hand out for to take her chai latte.
“It’s fine,” I say, my bottom lip wobbling and she goes to come in for a hug, but I step back. Because I know if I cuddle her, I’ll cry. Again.
“I don’t want any more tears over him,” I say softly but with a firm tone.
Brontë gives me a knowing nod and turns her back, walking towards the treatment room. I give Lorna an apologetic look and scarper behind Brontë.
She closes the door behind me as I place my coffee down and hang my bag up but not before deep diving for my phone.
“Okay for me to film?” She never says no but I always like to ask.
“Of course.” She holds her hand out for me to tuck myself behind the curtain and get undressed.
“So, totally cool if you don’t want to…”
I pop my head around the curtain.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I give her a weak smile, and she dips her head in agreement.
Silence bounces against the walls and before I slip back outside, I take a selfie and post it to my stories with some of my favourite hashtags.
#nomorehair #laserforthewin #tidy
“Is this still going to hurt?” I ask as I tiptoe back into the room and take my seat on the bed.
“Not as much…” She trails off and looks up at me through her lashes. “Maybe, a little.” She shrugs a shoulder up and takes a mouthful of her drink before placing it behind her.
“I’m going to Monaco tomorrow,” I say breezily, and I wish I was convincing but the tremble in my voice gave me away.
“Yeah?” Brontë says as she slips her glasses on then scoots herself forward on her stool.
“Yeah, it was Nora’s idea,” I rush out as she passes me my own glasses.
“Might be good for you to get away, given everything that is going on.” She pushes from her seat and drags the tripod over. After I set it onto time lapse, she takes the phone and places it in the cradle.
“Yeah, that’s what she said,” I mumble, looking at my camera before I am focused on Brontë who is sitting at the bottom of the bed.
