Nia's Resolve | 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘚𝘺𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘦

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...𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉
𝒯𝑜 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇...

↳ ᶰᶤᵃ ↴

Nothing was working.

Her freshman courses could only take up so much time, and Nia was left with ample hours to write, but words betrayed her.

Every time she sat down she'd think of him.

Cerulean eyes that told of treasures hidden in the deep. Of a jaw line set in a precise angle yet softened by welcoming lips, and the tone of voice that echoed in places she had long forgotten. It was as if he could reach in and dismantle her without even trying.

It was a damn curse.

She couldn't stop his irritating yet enigmatic charisma from seeping into her stories, no matter what she tried. Eventually she caved and tried to write him as some back-street villain, but the words wouldn't come out right.

Frustrated and conflicted about what to do next, Nia closed out her document and powered down the laptop, making a face in the black screen. Half of her features were blurred in shadow, but the red of her hair made a stunning impression against the dorm's white walls.

One day she wanted to be as bold as color suggested, though she hadn't been very good at it. Maybe when she no longer felt bound by her old environment, the one she ran away from by leaving for college, then confidence would come easier.

Pulling her hair back, a hint of blonde emerged from the roots. Time to venture out and find a salon. In the back of her mind she crossed her fingers, hoping the curse would hold up—and maybe she'd run into Caspian.

From a safe distance, of course.

Since he wouldn't leave her mind, then she'd see where it went. People-watching had been a longtime hobby and character ideas flowed freely when she observed others, some of which she wanted to adapt into her own life.

She would do nothing more than spy on him from afar, and at all costs avoid another annoying conversation. Not only did he now know her name, but he had also caught her staring into his eyes. That was far too much ammunition for him to try and shoot his cupid's arrow. After putting on some decent clothes and stuffing her debit card into her pocket, Nia strolled towards town.

She hadn't bothered to look up a salon, having heard Serena mention one last weekend and knowing the general direction. The leisurely walk was enjoyable, and she took note of unique places that would make good story material.

Her favorites were an abandoned gift shop, boarded up yet still marked with a sign painted in bright colors. A cute corner park reminded her of childhood innocence, while a few blocks down a wall of graffiti was covered in cryptic messages. A movie reel began in her head, playing out a spy scene with an anonymous cloaked figure.

At last she spotted the salon and walked in. Luckily an appointment had fallen through, so they were able to fit her in the schedule. Her stylist, Adrian, was young and friendly, but not overbearing. She was glad she had found someone decent on her first try, and as a bonus he wasn't nearly as flirtatious as Caspian.

Nia watched him through the mirror as he started to separate her hair with the end of a paintbrush. Stubble along his jaw balanced a soft, flawless cut of auburn hair that flowed down to his shoulders, the ends colored a pale pink.

Whether logical or not, she found stylists more trustworthy when they dyed their hair as well.

"This is always a busy time of year, we're constantly booked," Adrian said, making small talk.