Running to my Wolf by Lola Glass EPUB & PDF – eBook Details
- Author: Lola Glass
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Series: None
- Price: Free
- File Size: 1 MB
“Do it.” I commanded. My eyes collided once again with those of
Vanellope, my long-time hairdresser. She was a wizard with color and
scissors and always knew the best products for my curls. We’d been arguing
in her chair for twenty minutes, and the only thing she’d done at that point
was pick up her shears. They were still tucked against her palm like she
wasn’t actually planning on using them.
“Cutting it would be a crime,” Vanellope said, like that was a fact.
I would’ve been angry with her, if I wasn’t so nervous myself. “It’s my
hair. My decision.”
“You haven’t thought this through,” Vanellope protested.
I’d saved the haircut for last, because I knew I would change my mind if I
didn’t. I’d said goodbye to the pack, I’d boxed up all my shit and had it
moved to a storage unit. All there was left was the haircut, and one last day
with my best friends before my plane left that evening. “I’m tired of thinking.
I miss my husband, Vanellope. I need to do this to show him that I’ve
changed—that I’m ready to fight for us. Cut it off.”
With one heavy, heavy sigh, she lifted her scissors to a few inches beneath
my collarbone. “Last chance,” she warned, glancing at me in the mirror.
I smiled. “Do it.”
And the first chunk of hair met the floor.
An hour later, I was walking out of the salon at least a few pounds lighter.
My head felt so free, my big curly hair bouncing with every step.
I’d stopped modeling entirely a few months earlier when my contract
expired, parting from my favorite lingerie company on good terms. My agent
was pissed, but she’d made an assload of money off me, so I didn’t feel bad
walking away from her permanently.
A little before I stopped modeling, I’d started growing my natural hair
back out. One of my first big fights with Gunner had been after the first time
I had my hair chemically relaxed. One of his favorite things about me—or the
version of me I’d been back then—was that I was genuine. He’d accused me
of changing myself to fit my agent’s mold, I’d accused him of only liking me
for the way I looked, and we had never really recovered from that fight.
He had been right, of course—but wrong to point it out. My uncle had
passed away, and I was grieving. Becoming a model to make the money I
needed to pay off my uncle’s debt was a part of my convoluted grieving
process, but we’d both been too young to see it. If I’d gone to a therapist back
then, I could’ve realized it and accepted Gunner’s money instead.
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