A girl, a guy, a best friend, a brother. Bushels of Bad Habits.
I unplugged my headphones from my sore ears and wrapped them around the small silver form of my IPod, a sixteenth birthday present form my beloved Grandma. I sat upright and uncrossed my legs from their current sticky position-spanned out across the backseats, and swung them into sitting position so that I could bend down and rummage through my handbag for my much desired bottle of water. When catching sight of myself in the rear-view mirror, with heat flustered cheeks and the strands of dark blonde hair stuck to my face with pure sweat, I hoped, rather in vain, that there wouldn’t be such a brutal sun where we were heading for.
The journey continued in silence. I attempted to sleep, but was shortly defeated in my mission. ‘Are you certain that’s the highest the air-conditioning will go?’ I said groggily heaving myself up from the damp leather seats- a minor squelching sound appearing every time I lifted a limb. The green eyes I had inherited flicked up to look at me in the rear-view. ‘For goodness sake, yes I’m certain, do you think I enjoy sitting here and roasting like a bloody turkey?’
We eventually advanced into a more industrial area, the city. The city was full of annoying neon lights and tacky looking clubs.
So this is Las Vegas.
It was nearing the midpoint between noon and dusk by the time we arrived in Summerlin. Once the busy bustling streets fell away, we were left with pleasant green suburban scenery. Neatly trimmed bushes lined
large, flawless houses, some with the luxury of having clear, cool, sparkling pools in their gardens which I craved to dive in right then and there.
Our house didn’t have a pool, and it wasn’t as spacious as most of them, but it was still impressive by our standards. Most definitely nicer than any house I had previously lived in.
My mother lifted her sunglasses and perched them upon her glossy dark blonde head, as she studied her new home. She softly scratched an immaculate pink fingernail up and down her matte covered cheek. I had always envied her long nails, mine were always bitten and torn – my fault of course, a bad habit I can’t seem to quit. We share the same hair however (though hers is styled shorter whilst mine hangs further beneath my shoulders), and the same eyes. The resemblance ends at the face. She’s a lot more voluptuous than me. The plain black vest top she wore revealed a fair amount of cleavage, and the hipster denim shorts showed off her tiny waist and curvy hips combination. My hips were small, and so was my chest. My stomach was flat though, and that was something my mom envied; I could maintain such slim limbs with no need for exercise or dieting of any sort.
‘It’s uh, nice...isn’t it?’ She said without looking at me. I merely gave a grunt of agreement and followed her inside trailing a heavy black suitcase behind down the cobbled path with some difficulty.
I was relieved and delighted to find that my bedroom contained air conditioning. I led on my bed and let the cool, refreshing waves of air tickle my face and engulf my hot and sticky body, leaving me a lot more relaxed and content in comparison to before. This, mingled with the low, faint humming of the machine, made me drowsy. I soon began to drift into a sluggish sleep, but not before wondering in curiosity, excitement and even fear, what Las Vegas was going to be bringing me.