Her Name Is Havoc

Three months ago

"Nothing's wrong with your look, Hazzie," I said, marveling her.
"Isn't it weird that you're giving me a nickname based on a name you gave me?" she asked, still scrolling on her phone. She's picking a new haircut. A short one.
"Maybe. But don't change the subject. Baby, your hair looks perfect. I love it. Why cut it?!"
"I don't know. Change?"
"Well you don't need that change. I mean the way you look is like an identity profile. Something unique. It isn't that easy to just manipulate it."
"Change is my identity, then. I crave novelty."
    I don't know why I strongly dismiss that idea of her new haircut. It's not that I am all possessive and controlling. Or maybe I am. It's just I want the Hazel I know. So perfect. I don't want her to change. Evolution is something I don't want her to undergo. She's sacred. Holly. And she should always be my Hazel. What if she just doesn't change her haircut but also her interests? Will I be dropped then? She craves novelty.
"I understand. But will it change a thing if I told you that I will miss the old... you?"
     She looked at me with soft eye and a subtle smile. Her eyes looked warm and reassuring. Her features peaceful.
"No." And she looked back to her phone.
     Wow. She's so cold. Am I supposed to be offended?  Because I am totally not.
"Let's play on it then."
     She looked at me like I finally said something worthy of her attention.
"Play on it?"
"Yeah. You want to cut it. I don't. Whoever wins has it his/her way."
"Are you even aware that you're talking about MY hair?"
"What? Are you scared of losing? I mean you can chicken out if you want," I gave it a try and hoped to not regret it. You never know when she can tolerate my humor.
     She looked at me in a mixture of stubbornness and annoyance. I don't know if she was considering the possibility or considering stabbing me. It can be hard to predict human behavior especially when that human is her.
"So what do you say? In or chicken?"
"I say I'll beat your ass."
"I would love to watch you try," I teased with a wry smile.
"Smug."
    I laughed at that. Partly because in a part of my life I was a smug. For real. I thought I was superior. Too good for all the girls I dated. I believed I deserved better. Didn't I? For the sole reason that I believed so, I treated them like it was true. I mean, wasn't it? However, that was in a past life. That person died two months ago. I am a new version of Richard. So for some reason her tease hit base. It is funny how many memories can a single word enlighten.
"Okay. Okay. So we play movies?"
    I picked a game I master because I swore to myself to never let her touch these precious strands. Second thoughts, does that count as cheating?
"Then be it."
    Her confidence impressed me. To be honest, it intimidates me as well. If she beats me in movies then what in the world is left for me?!
"Okay. We write the name of the movie we're presenting in a paper first to eliminate the factor of cheating. And we do the best in presenting that movie. Let's make this fair. We're grown-ups. Okay?"
"Deal. How many movies we're making, though?
"Well, in every round, each gets to present a movie. If one wins and one fails then it's over. But if it's a tie then we play another round."
"Okay."
     I grab two papers and pencils and I share them with her.
"Write down your first movie."
     We write down our movies and fold the papers.
"Want to go first?"
"No. You first. My mom once taught me that it's always helpful to observe your enemy's moves before you take yours." And she crossed her arms against her chest, leaning back in her seat and raising her chin, like she's intimidating me. It worked.
     I nod and smile. My movie is Pretty Woman. I start acting.
"Movie..."
"Two words..."
"The first word..."
     I outlined the edges of my face with both my index and thumb then gave her a thumbs up.
"Beautiful?"
     I shake my head.
"Handsome?"
     Another shake.
"Wait... pretty?"
     I nod. This round will probably end being a tie. Before I even define a female body in the air, she yelled, "Pretty Woman?"
"You got it."
"Yes!" she snapped and jumped, giving me a high five. I could swear that she was going for a hug before remembering we're rivals. Damn it.
"Your turn, potato head."
"Woah, why the aggression, lady? Chill."
"We're opponents, remember?"
"Ugh, whatever."
    I regret going easy on her now. What if I lost? That seems possible now, even if it didn't before. I should've gotten a denser movie.
"Okay, lady foe. Your turn."
     She takes my place and starts acting.
"A movie..."
"One word..."
     One word. That's going to be easy. Or tremendously hard.
     She then starts rubbing her index and thumb together like she's spreading some dust.
"Dust?"
     She shakes her head. Shit. I am nervous now. I can't think when I am nervous. Shit. That makes me even more nervous. Shit. I'm overreacting. Shit.
"Sand?"
     Negative.
     She keeps doing the same move over and over again. And it's hard, at least for me, to relate a move to anything else when you already decided it meant one thing. Do I make sense? I realized she's growing impatient. She raises an eyebrow.
I shrug.
"I give up." And that was the hardest thing I have said in so long. Partly because this is MY game and partly because my hazel will shed a piece of herself.
"HAHA! Someone just got crushed! Loser."
    I dropped my head in my hands and groan. Genuinely sad.
"Hey... it's not that bad."
"It's. I really like your hair this way."
"Don't you even want to know the name of the movie?"
"Maybe. It doesn't matter."
"It's Salt, loser."
"Shit."
     I groan even harder, head still in hands. Elbows on knees.
     She walks over towards me and kneels down, knocking on my skull.
"It's okay, cry baby. It's not the end of the world."
     I sigh and raise my head up, leaning back in my seat. She stands up and looks at me playfully. Then smiles and takes a seat on my lap.
"Some bird told me tomorrow's your birthday," she said devilishly.
     I nod, anticipating.
     She leans closer and whispers in my ears, "You know I didn't get you a gift?"
"You don't need to."
"I want to."
"It's not important really," I lie. I would cherish a gift from her.
"What about I don't cut my hair? What would you say about such a gift?"
"I would say it's the best gift I've ever received!"
"You got it then," she said, standing up. I miss this moment already.
"I love you," I sputter without thinking. Instinct driven, I guess.
    She looks back playfully.
"I know."