Wanting Winter(39)

“Winter, are you okay?” Drake asks me with a concerned voice.

I face him, seeing sadness in his eyes for me. “I need to move on fast; I can’t stand feeling like this. I am so angry. Hitting her felt so good and all I want to do is hit her again. I know he is your best friend, but I want to cut his dick off with a pair of kid’s scissors,” I huff.

“You and cutting men’s bits off,” Drake laughs, and it makes me laugh also.

“So I take it she mentions cutting men’s things off often,” Joshua says smiling at me.

“Holy shit man, I have lost count how many times she was going to cut a man’s dick off; I am sure she has mentioned cutting yours off, too.”

Joshua looks at me with wide eyes.

“Don’t worry. That was when you were an ass, but if it weren’t for you guys, I would be so alone right now.” I smile to each of them.

“You have us. You won’t be alone.” Drake takes hold of my hand.

“Exactly. We are here for you,” Joshua adds.

“Don’t forget me,” Patrick adds.

I nod, my anger calming down.

For now.

“I think I’m going to skip my last class; it’s not until an hours’ time anyway. I think I’m going to go and get pampered to make myself feel better.” I stand up, they all stand with me.

“You want me to come with?” Joshua asks.

“I could give you a lift,” Drake offers.

I giggle at their concerned faces. “I will call a cab. I know you think I’m fragile right now, but I still need that independence. I don’t want it to be where I rely on you.”

“But you can rely on us. Rely away.” Joshua smiles at me.

“If I need to I will. For now, I want to get my hair and nails done. I need to sharpen my claws for any future altercations.” I wink at them, grabbing my stuff and leaving. Before I walk out of the door, I face them, and they are watching me, I shake my head laughing to myself.

I need to be alone right now, and they are kind of smothering me. I am glad I have them, but they can’t treat me like I’m going to break any second, even if deep down I’m waiting for it to happen.

Calling for a cab I stand near the curb, looking through my phone and sighing in frustration when all I see all over my newsfeed is me, Candice and Trent. People are talking about it, but I like that women are taking my side and saying what Candice did was wrong. It’s when I see pictures of Candice and Trent kissing—picture after picture of them—that I get upset. They look like they’re from this morning and him dropping her off at her classes before lunch. I switch off my phone and when the cab arrives, I climb in telling him where I need to go.

On the drive over, I try not to think too much, even though since I found out, questions after question have entered my head. I want to know every detail of their sordid affair, but I don’t think I could handle really knowing.

When I get to the beauty salon, luckily it's near enough empty and they can squeeze me in to do whatever I want. I am taken to a chair and I only wait a few minutes until a girl in her late twenties with long blue hair bounces over.

“So what are we doing for you today?”

I look in the mirror at my reflection and I don’t mean to, but I end up crying, covering my face with my hands. I feel the girl’s arms around me, holding me and I don’t pull away.

I feel so pathetic; I didn’t expect to cry but it happened.

Wiping away the tears angrily, I apologize to the girl.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m guessing that a man must be involved. What did the bastard do?” she asks.

“He was sleeping with my best friend,” I tell her, and she looks at me with wide eyes.

“That is just wrong; you poor thing. How long were you two together?”

I bite my lip before answering. “I know this is going to sound stupid; it was only a week, but he was different, you know. I let him in. I was falling for him. I think what hurts really is that he cheated on me with someone who has been my best friend since I was a freshman.” Hearing the words from my own mouth makes me realize how stupid it sounds. I mean, who gets upset over a week-long relationship?

Me. That’s who.

“You can’t control how you feel, or how your heart feels. If you’re hurt, you’re hurt,” the girl says, putting her fingers through my hair. “What hair color does the girl have?”

“Blonde.”

“Well. We don’t want to go blonde then. Why don’t we give you a complete makeover, show him what he is missing?” She smiles at me.

“I think that’s what I need. A new me.”

“Great. By the time you leave this place, you are going to look so different, and then all you will need is a new wardrobe. Get clothes that show off your long legs and cleavage; no harm in giving people a little tease.” We both laugh.

“I think I will.”

I let her get to work and I get my nails done while I wait for the color to settle in my hair. I tell her about what happened today and she gives me a high five when I say that I hit Candice. When she tells me I can turn and look in the mirror, I feel almost giddy.

Closing my eyes, I turn around and when I look at myself, my mouth hangs open. My long wavy brown hair is now straight, with layers and feathered in, but it’s the color that I’m in awe of: it is now black with blue highlights.