Chanel Camryn, Daisy Lavoy Fix Guide

Later, they drove until the stars came out. Chanel didn’t mention the other Polaroid in her bag—the one she’d taken last week, of Daisy asleep in the passenger seat, mouth open, mixtape title scrawled on the bottom in sharpie: sad, but make it vibey.

“Theatre program. Full ride. I didn’t tell you because…” Daisy turned, and for once, the smirk was gone. “Because I didn’t want you to make a list of pros and cons.” chanel camryn, daisy lavoy

Chanel grabbed her Polaroid from the backseat—a habit she’d picked up from Daisy, who collected disposable cameras like other people collected stamps. She framed the shot: Daisy’s wild curls lit from behind, the sea stretching forever, the little mole above Daisy’s left eyebrow that Chanel had drawn a thousand times in her sketchbook. Later, they drove until the stars came out

Daisy took a step closer. “I’m not asking permission. I’m asking… will you still send me those stupid voice notes about the texture of paint? Even when I’m gone?” Full ride

Here’s a short story based on the names and Daisy Lavoy . Title: The Last Polaroid