𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥'𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 ✓ [𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐓𝐖𝐎]

chapter one ✕ dates & disasters

"Questionable." I laugh. "Now stop talking to me and go get stuff done."

  "Alright. Bye, Nia."

"Bye."

   I set my phone down and get back to cleaning.

   My apartment isn't huge, but I'm not exactly here often enough to make time to clean it.

   I asked my dad for the day off for one Saturday this month because I needed to deep clean. Which was partially true.

  The only reason I'm going as far as vacuuming under couch cushions is for a date.

  He isn't even coming over, or at least we didn't plan it that way. But in case he does, I'd like to be prepared.

   His name is Easton, which is a weird name. And I told him that when we first met, because I was a little bit intoxicated and he took it well so it could've only gotten better from there.

And it did.

We talked, about what but I don't remember, but I liked the conversation enough to agree to a date.

   We fixed up our schedules and decided on a a Saturday afternoon .

  By the time I finish cleaning, its almost ten-thirty.

  I head for the bathroom and took a quick shower, before brushing my teeth.

  My eyes catch themselves in the mirror and I stare for a minute at my blurry reflection in the fogginess.

  The mirror starts to clear and I finally get a good look at myself.

  I've changed a lot in the past year.

  For one thing, I've cut my hair. Spare a half an inch, it's mostly gone now. On top of that I bleached it blonde and my dark roots have grown out a bit underneath. But I like how it looks.

  Edgier, maybe. More mature.

I've gained a little weight, too. Good weight, around my middle and in my cheeks.

   And I got my first tattoo, a small pair of angel wings on my wrist.

   I finish brushing my teeth, rising my mouth out and continuing on my with morning skincare.

  In my bedroom, I mull over outfit choices for a minute before settling on a sundress and a matching clutch. I dig through my closet for a pair of wedges that I haven't worn in forever, tossing in a few bandages into my clutch in case the shoes chew my feet up.

   My phone buzzes and I check it, switching off the alarm I set for myself to remind me when I need to go.

  I have about fifteen minutes to do my makeup and rushedly spot conceal, apply some gloss which I take with me, and mascara.

  With my last bit of time I search my vanity for some jewelry and my fingers pull a silver chain from the drawer.

    I stop to examine it and my heart races a little when I recognize it.