Font size: - +
"The first order of business," Lola tells me, "we gotta fix your appearance."
We're two white girls sitting at Starbucks. An innocent observer will think we're talking about boys, and they won't be entirely wrong. I take a sip from my Pumpkin Spice Latte.
"What's wrong with the way I look?" I ask Lola.
The brunette takes a sip of her own drink, grimaces, before meeting my eyes. "Unfortunately, he likes his girls blonde."
On instinct, I begin fingering a few strands of my rat brown hair.
"I mean, other than the hair you should be good to go," Lola shrugs. "You could get a tattoo here and there too."
"A tattoo? No way." I gaped. "Dealbreaker."
"Just a suggestion. All of his exes and flings, and I mean all of them - trust me, that number is huge - have ink on their skin. Even Naomi."
I stir my latte nervously.
"You could get those semi-permanent ones that fade after three years. Think about it."
Lola's smile returns to her face. She takes a dainty sip of her coffee, before she plucks the pink highlighter and returns to her Gender Studies notes. I skim my eyes over the deeply suburban customers occupying Starbucks this afternoon.
I think we're supposed to pretend this conversation never happened.