The first in The Barren Thorns trilogy
I never believed in soulmates until I first saw those emerald green eyes looking out at me in the crowd. I wouldn't call it love at first sight. Rather, we knew each other at first sight. Then love came like an...
Author's Note: Welcome! Before we begin, The Barren Thorns has a Spotify playlist that I suggest. For each chapter published, there is a track on the list that is the chapter title. Really it's just a great playlist of rock songs. Find it here: https://open.spotify.com/user/lilyfedorko/playlist/0CQIXOMPlBEiYe6Wa6xGzM?si=pzkoHmUJTIKNuoI7xW4p5Q - it's titled The Barren Thorns if you are to search it.
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Let's rock and roll...
"I'm so glad you decided to come with me!" Ellen exclaimed to me for the sixteenth time since I got home an hour ago.
"Of course, Ellen. You know I'm always ready for a concert." I paused and sighed. "I just feel bad I don't know more about the music. It feels wrong to have these great tickets and hardly know any of the words to their songs." I quipped as I applied my mascara. Ellen had just completed her most recent masterpiece: my face. Ellen is a 'starving artist', hair and make-up artist that is. She refers to herself as a 'starving artist' but if we're being honest, she's the best and most sought-after event hair/make-up artist in Chicago. She's even done Michelle Obama's make up for one of her events here (her regular person was ill and no we didn't poison her but we did joke about doing so). Tonight, she'd done my make up with a brown smoky eye, Bordeaux lip and my hair which fell all the way to the middle of my back was a vibrant violet fade which she had put in for me last week. My hair had a natural wave to it, so she didn't even bother to do more than scrunch up my hair a bit with some wave spray. It gave me a wild quality that I loved.
"Yeah, but you will rock out harder than most of the people that know all the words." She shrugged, running the curling iron through her long bleached white locks (think Daenerys Targaryen in Game of Thrones). We both wore rock band t-shirts, mine a Pearl Jam oversized tank top with lace bra peeking through, hers a Rolling Stones tee cut into a crop top showing off her effortlessly flat stomach. Ellen and I had drastically different body types. She was long and lean, her skin a milky white. I was tanner with an olive skin tone and a curvaceous, petite figure. I wasn't 'fat' but I had hips, breasts, thighs, and even a little butt (by white girl standards). I paired my tee with black leather pants and high heeled black suede booties and Ellen was wearing denim cutoffs and over-the-knee black suede boots. She had her long, almost waist-length hair in gorgeous full curls.
After spraying enough hairspray to choke a large family we eyed ourselves in the mirror. "I'd smash." She announced with a confident smile.
"True that." I agreed as we high fived. I took one last look in the mirror, scrunched my waves and winked at myself. "I'm so cute." I boasted as I grabbed my black blazer off her bed and headed for the door.
"And so modest, too," she added with a laugh.
"I'm a beautiful woman, life's too short to feign modesty." I rebutted and she nodded along. She'd heard it all.
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