Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Here’s the thing—sometimes, you have to make uncomfortable choices knowing they will set you free later.
When I decided to leave behind my old life in California six years ago with nothing but a suitcase, a car that had seen better days, and an envelope full of cash I technically stole but also technically owned, I had nobody on my mind but me. I’m not ashamed to admit I was being selfish, greedy, and all those other things my mother always accused me of. But I did what I had to do to save myself.
Yet it took me nearly two years to recognize the face I saw in the mirror every day. The brown hair that wasn’t mine, the long hair turned short, the bangs I’d never considered cutting.
I mix the hair dye in the stained plastic bowl and avoid my gaze in the mirror. The deep breath I take isn’t enough to stop the anxiety from sinking its claws into my chest, making it difficult to get air in and out of my lungs.
After using some Vaseline to prevent the dye from staining my scalp, I get on with lie number one.
I know what most people would say—“But Allie, dyeing your hair doesn’t make you a liar!”—and they’d be right. It doesn’t. People change their appearance all the time, and that doesn’t make them a better or worse person. But the why I’m doing it is what makes me hate myself a little more every day.
My dark eyes stare back at me as I thoroughly apply the dye, and I make a mental note to add a few more boxes to my grocery list later. I don’t want to run out just in case there’s an emergency.
Right, because my social and/or romantic life is so intense.
I snort at my own thoughts as I cover the last few strands with the foul-smelling chemical. My hair brushes my shoulders, which is the shortest I’ve ever worn it. Paired with the wispy bangs I never thought would suit me, but I’ve grown to love, I don’t look like the Allie from six years ago. At all.
That was the goal all along.
My phone pings with a notification, and I frown. Jada is working right now, and I rarely get texts from anyone else. Other than the group chat we have for The Lair—which Charlie spams, and Travis never participates in—my phone has been quiet all day.
Speak of the devil.
Charlie
Allie Cat!!!!!!
I try not to smile and fail. It’s not the first time he’s texted me privately, and it’s always for the same reason.
Charlie
My friends and I are going to a bonfire party after work on Friday. Wanna tag along?
You only have one option btw.
And it is to say yes.
Once my hair is done, I take off my disposable gloves, rinse my hands in the sink for good measure, and grab my phone from where I set it earlier on the toilet. And then I stare at Charlie’s texts and wait for the guilt to make itself at home like it always does.
I tried to fight it since that first day he introduced himself at The Lair with his contagious smile and kind eyes, but I can’t deny it anymore—Charlie is my friend.
A friendship that shouldn’t have happened, but then he went and made a point to include me in every single one of his plans with his friend group, claiming that, “You spend too much time on your own, Allie Cat. That can’t be good for the soul. You’re more than welcome to hang out with us.”
At some point, he got so insistent, I asked him if he was flirting or if he liked me or something . I have zero experience with men, but that’s what they do when they’re interested in someone, right? They pester them to death.
But he only laughed and said, “You’re beautiful, but I only like you as a friend. Please tell me I didn’t just break your heart.”
Charlie is like an annoying younger brother to me, which makes it worse when I always text him the same thing.
Me
I’m not sure.
I know I’m not going, and he knows I’m not going, but we both want to pretend otherwise.
Charlie
Only for an hour? Pretty please?
I’m typing that no, I don’t think I’ll make it, when he texts again.
Charlie
I’ll bring carrot cake.
That makes me reconsider. Narrowing my eyes at the screen as if he could see the suspicion in them, I text back.
Me
To a bonfire party?
Charlie
What can I say, I’m full of surprises.
Me
Full of shit too.
Charlie
Hahaha
Don’t Travis me.
And why my heart leaps at the mention of our boss will forever remain a mystery.
Charlie found out carrot cake is my all-time favorite food two months ago when Sandra brought a huge one to the bar on her birthday. I had one slice and took two home, and he has been teasing me about my obsession with it ever since. I’m not bothered by it.
For a moment, I allow myself to imagine what it would be like to accept Charlie’s invitation and have fun at the bonfire with his friends. Being with them, even if only for an hour, would help me feel that sense of normalcy I’ve been craving for years.
“Friends make the world a little brighter,” Jada would always tell me.
But then I remember all the reasons I shouldn’t get close to them. Why it would be better for everyone that I stay away.
Me
I don’t think I can make it.
I’ll let you know if I change my mind.
We both know I won’t. I never do.
He texts something back, but I don’t read it. Looking at my phone is making me light-headed, so I focus on wiping the excess dye off my neck and forehead before I get in the shower to rinse it all off.
Charlie might think he wants to hang out with me, but I’m saving him from heartbreak. Because no matter how many times I tell myself that I’m doing this because I need to, because it sets me free, I can’t ignore the truth.
I’m lying to everyone in this town.