"Just what the hell did your parents feed you?" Rodrigo wonders as he looks me up and down. "Did they spoon feed you steroids the second you were born?" His cringing expression showcases the front of his perfect teeth. "Are you sure your body even produces estrogen?" Vibrant blue eyes that are definitely contacts stop and examine my own eyes before moving up. "They must have injected your eyebrows with the food they fed you."


"Alright, that is it!" I snarl, my monstrous eyebrows furrowing. "I realize that being fabulous is what you do for a living, but some people don't have the opportunity to walk in your shoes."

What an asshole.

A beautiful, gorgeous asshole.

Rodrigo simply scoffs with sheer elegance and places a hand on his hip. "Darling, being fabulous is not a job." He flips his hair, "It's a lifestyle." Smiling with a suave squint of the eyes, he continues, "And don't get your boxers in a twist— you will be walking in my shoes when this is over." He flips his hair again. "And in season."

"Okay, can you stop flipping your hair like that?" I scrunch my nose in disgust. "I can smell the hair product from here and it's making my eyes water." All the amusement in Rodrigo's eyes fade and his lips are set in a straight line.

Woah, did that really offend him?

I guess he really takes that shit seriously. I mean, he does run a salon. And his hair does look like it was blessed by the grace of God. But he has called me a man in seventeen different ways.

Wow, he looks really angry. This may or may not be the most horrifying thing I have seen in my life. With a quick glance to my far right, he commands, "Tighten the belts."

Oh, yeah. Due to the lovely conversation going on, I may have forgotten to mention that I'm tied to a fucking chair. And it's not just any normal chair, it's like those chairs from the dentist, except this chair is a black leather, directly under a giant spotlight thing that can transform into other instruments of death, and I am strapped to said chair by every limb because I may or may not have scratched Rodrigo's face as I was trying to make a run for it.

The bulky men from before walk toward me and start tugging at the belts securing me against the chair. Rodrigo lashes at me with a verbal type of belt. "Listen, you testosterone consuming hyena," he hisses and points directly at my face with a shining, glamorous finger as he takes small steps closer to me. "You scratched my face with that saggy chicken claw of yours, and because of you I will probably end up with some sort of animal flu." My eyebrows shoot up in bewilderment as his guinea pigs tighten up the belts on my arms and legs. "Now shut your asymmetrical mouth or I will exfoliate it 'til you switch languages."


I don't know if I should be offended or impressed.

He snaps his fingers, breaking me out of my thoughts, and the door to the room confining me slams open, revealing a line of girls holding boxes of trinkets and colorful utensils as they pour inside the room in an orderly fashion. I'm conflicted between being amazed by this, because it looks rehearsed, or by being creeped out because how the hell did they hear him snapping his fingers from the other side of the wall? Is no one going to address this? Am I the only one?

"Minho, go warm up the wax." Rodrigo's eyes suddenly look demonic to me. "She's going to get the Sphinx."

Wait, Sphinx? What the hell is that? Does he mean the hairless, naked cat thing? That kind of looks like a—



"Chase! SAVE ME!" I screech at the top of my lungs. A Brazilian wax? I'd much rather commit seppuku. "I don't want this wax! I refuse!"

Rodrigo chuckles and he flips his hair for the nth time. "You don't really have much of a say." He turns to a few of the girls and gives them a nod before walking out of the room. This is where I begin to scream at the top of my lungs and shake violently, trying to loosen these damn belts somehow.

"Sir! Please stay calm!" A girl with blonde hair struts up to me and presses a wet towel against my forehead.

"Sir!?" I repeat, extremely offended. "I am a woman and I'm starting to get really fucking angry at how frequently I'm mistaken for the wrong set of chromosomes!"

The girl's eyes widen at my vexed reply and she looks me up and down before responding, "Really?"

I scream in frustration. "I will fucking murder you when this is over, Evans!"

"Calm down, sir," Another voice interjects and I turn to glare at the source.

The blonde from before, who is still holding the towel, shakes her head at the new speaker, "That's a girl."


The other girl's eyebrows shoot up before she glances over at me. "Really?"

I'm fuming at this point, and if I could incinerate right now, I would be ash on the floor. Unfortunately, I'm not a mutant with the ability to do that. Instead, I shriek at the blonde girl pretty much pressed against me, "Where the fuck is Rodrigo?"

"Right here, Bert." I'm going to burn this place to the ground. Rodrigo slams the door shut and locks it with his free hand, a smirk on hip lips. "How's Sesame street? How are they doing without that giant line on your face?"

"Rodrigo, I will shove your BeDazzler straight up your ass and recreate the Sistine Chapel!" I vow with bloodlust.

His smirk remains intact while his free hand lifts up a furry white robe. He completely ignores my promise. "Let's get her stripped."

"Were you born like this?" Searing pain hits me as wax is ripped off my flesh.

"Where the hell does all the estrogen go?" Screams.

"What the fuck is that on your back?" Sobbing.

"Sweet Heysoos, did you run away from a cult that banned razors?" Cursing.

This is just a synapsis of what happened during the last hour. I have never cried so violently in my life. My body is crimson and my skin burns and I want to dive into a snow cone truck.

"Stop crying already," Rodrigo gibes. "Of course it's going to hurt when your body hair is that long."

With bloodshot eyes, I turn to give him a glare. "You're a fucking asshole. You didn't even countdown properly when waxing me."

Rodrigo gasps. "Yes I did!"

My glare deepens.

45 Minutes ago

I am practically hyperventilating. I am nowhere near being ready for this.

"Relax, Bert," Rodrigo says soothingly. "I'll count down from three— "

"—Five! Please, I need more time!" I bawl in anxiety.

With a disturbed expression, Rodrigo agrees. He reaches for the wax. "One, two, FIVE— "

I have never screamed so hard in my life.

Back to Present

Rodrigo chuckles and leans on the marble cabinet looking thing. "I get my work done. I don't have time to waste, especially with your Neanderthal lookin' ass."

My eyes continue to water. "You could've at least stopped laughing!"

Rodrigo bursts into guffaws for a solid few moments before reducing the intensity into giggles. "Listen Aria— "

"It's Ariella— "

"—You're truly one of a kind. I have never seen someone with such awful hygiene." He picks up my right hand. "And just look at your nails. How the hell do you even get to this point, Anastasia?"

"Ariella— "

"—I don't even want to begin to imagine what your toe nails look like," Rodrigo chokes out, his eyebrows furrowing in revulsion. He lets go off my hand hastily. "You need the blood of Christ at this point, Angela."

I give up.

I rest my head on my arms, only to hiss in intense pain and retract my head. In frustration, I lay down on the bench, wearing a new fluffy white robe that soothes my skin after the intense waxing session. My face stings like a mother. As my body was drenched in the wax and drying up, Rodrigo and his minions waxed my face and plucked my eyebrows. I'm pretty sure I look like a genetically engineered tomato with how red I look.

"But I will admit that you have a nice body shape." I lift my head up in surprise and look at Rodrigo. A hand is under his chin, tapping away. "Seriously. I was expecting male parts and muscular limbs, but you're lean and very feminine under all that mammoth hair."

My lip quivers and my eyes water even more. Rodrigo rolls his eyes. "For the love of God, stop crying."

I lose control of my emotions as tears stream down my face. "I can't help it! That was the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

He sighs, and it echoes throughout the room. We are the only two in the room after the evil deed he and his minions committed, because the more that I think about it, he wanted to make sure I was okay. Fuck, I'm crying even harder.

We sit there in a silence for a while, the only sound in the room being my gross sobs and sniffling. He eventually chimes in, "Why are you here? You obviously seem to hate all of these treatments, so why am I doing this for you?"

I stare up at the beautiful lavender ceiling. "I just want to fit in. I'm tired of being an outcast." I turn to look at him. "I want to talk to people without being made fun of."

Rodrigo stares at me for a while before his eyes narrow in determination. "Don't worry, Ariella. I'm going to make you bloody gorgeous."