I moved quickly into the small room. It was stark and clean, with zero character. Large white tiles lined the floor and walls. A glass-walled cube sat in the corner – beside it was the toilet.
Lucy sprinted in that direction, dropping her pack on the ground. My own discomfort growing, I distracted myself by walking to the large mirror running along the wall.
“What. The. Hell.” I gasped at my reflection.
Half of my hair was still braided, the other half was teased into curly tendrils all around my head. Damn, I let Brace see me like this? I smirked at my reflection. There goes any chance of him returning my attraction.
Lucy snorted behind me. “I told you. Good luck fixing that.”
Dropping my pack, I scrabbled around until I found my hairbrush. It was tied together with gel paste and toothbrush. Under the mirror rested a small clear bench. A glass bowl perched on top. As I reached into the bowl, cool water flowed from under the glass.
No faucet. Apparently we were lucky enough to have magic doors and magic water. I shrugged, plunged my toothbrush in and coated it high with paste. I hated an unclean mouth. I had a slight obsession with minty freshness.
Finishing quickly, I spat before rinsing clean. Then I attempted to tame my red mane. Untangling my braid, I attacked with my brush. It stuck at first stroke. Struggling to free it, I groaned as strands tore free.
A flush sounded. Lucy moved to wash her hands next to me.
I moaned my frustration at her. “I’d say two days from dreadlocks.”
“Word.” She again attempted to run her hands through her own snarled curls, which again ended in failure.
“It’s not really fair, Abbs. I have bruises everywhere, and this awesome scrape.” She gestured to the pink graze on her cheek. “But besides messy hair you look perfect, and too gorgeous as usual.” She glared in mock annoyance. “What’s your secret? Do you have a hidden fountain of hotness?”
I stuck my tongue out at her in the reflection. “You’re insane, Lucy.” I would kill for her curves and blonde beauty.
She shrugged, but didn’t comment further. It was a circular argument we’d been having for years.
I worked hard and eventually my thick hair caved to the vigorous attack. Braiding the shiny curls off my face, I smiled. It was stupid, but my braid gave me a sense of normalcy. Lucy grabbed my arm as I moved to the toilet.
“There’s no tissue. You’ll have to use a few from my stash.”
I looked down at the two small pieces she was waving at me.
“Your generosity knows no bounds,” I said drily.
She smiled sweetly. “It’s that or your hand. We’re on rations – I will not be using leaves, thank you very much.”
Shaking my head, I moved to the toilet. It looked ultra high-tech, buttons and gadgets running along the right-hand side. The exact type of thing I would have broken in minutes. Ignoring the buttons, I was going with the hope it worked on the same basic principles as back home. Finishing quickly, I stood. Without any assistance from me, a loud flush sounded. Well, that was a nice change from the drop pits which had replaced flushable toilets in New York. Not enough running water for that little luxury.
Moving back to the sink, I washed my hands. Lucy was finished, dressed in fresh clothes, her two layers of mascara applied and everything. Grabbing my pack, I unearthed a new shirt and underwear before dressing quickly. This was one of my favorite black vintage band tees, last year’s birthday present from Lucy.
Shouldering my pack, I followed her over to the door.
“How do they open? It’s not a sensor. We’re standing right here.” Lucy jumped up and down, waving her hands.
Her bag just about toppled her backwards. She grabbed my arm to rebalance.
“No idea. I can’t figure how anything works on First World.”
Lucy leaned closer. “Oh, and by the way, you totally understated Brace: hot, hot, hotttt.” She drew out the last, fanning herself.
I shook my head at her dramatics. “I told you he was gorgeous. It’s a waste. I wouldn’t know what to do with him.”
Lucy opened her mouth. I interrupted before I could hear her sure-to-be suggestive ideas. “Remember, virgin here, almost eighteen and never been kissed.” I wiggled my eyebrows. “Unlike Lucy – who makes out with the extremely good-looking Josh, the delivery dude – for shoes.”
Her mouth dropped. But before she could respond, the door slid open.
Brace was standing exactly where we’d left him. His lilting accent filled the small bathroom.
“Let’s go.” His eyes lingered for a moment.
My face warmed as he turned away.
Lucy, already past my teasing, nudged me and whispered, “You’re staring at him the way I stare at my vintage Manolo Blahniks.”
I shook it off. I was stronger than this attraction. I’d seen Lucy actually drool when she stared at her shoes. Reaching up, I stealth-wiped at my mouth. Thank the gods: drool-free.
We lagged behind. Even I struggled with his long-legged pace.
Finally we caught up to him.