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"OW." I wince when Peter pulls on my hair.
"Sorry." He apologises for about the 45th time during this process. "Oh shit."
"What did you just do?" I ask when I hear the scissors snapping. "Peter, don't tell me you just...oh my God." I feel up the piece of hair he was working on.
"I didn't mean to." He winces.
I'm still at Peter's and my nana's cookout is this evening. I was getting bothered with my box braids, so I decided to take them out today so I could have a fresh 'do to see my extended family and Peter insisted that he help me. I don't know why I trusted this boy to take my hair out and he just proved to me why he should never help me again.
He just cut the braid too high.
"Alright, no more scissors for you." I tease, cutting the hair myself. "There. Now, you can just take 'em out."
"Isn't your family going to be a little weirded out by the only white guy being there?" He chuckles, taking the braids out carefully.
"Yeah, they might." I admit. "But, I'm going to tell them about you today."
"Are you sure?" Peter asks. "What about your dad?"
"...He'll come around." I clear my throat. "Just don't get on his bad side."
"Noted." He says, taking the extension out and detangling my hair with his fingers, just like I taught him.
After sitting in between Peter's legs for the next hour and a half, the de-braiding process is finally over and I'm left with a huge afro on top of my head, which fascinates Peter.
"What are you gawking at, don't act like you've never seen this before." I chuckle, throwing the plastic bag full of hair extensions in the trash bag in his room.
"It's bigger this time. Can I touch it?"
I give him a stank eye. "Hell no. Don't ask that at the cookout if you don't want to get jumped."
"Right." Peter stands up. "May has shampoo in the bathroom."
I stare at him, basically telling him what he just said was dumb. I thought he knew better than to think I could use some damn 'Head and Shoulders' shampoo. Peter understands my message and shakes his head.
"Or I'll get some Shea moisture from the store." He grabs his wallet. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
After Peter got the shampoo and conditioner, he insisted on helping me yet again. This time, I'm leaning over the bathtub and he's massaging the shampoo into my hair carefully.
"The roots, baby." I remind him and Peter's fingers go further into my hair, rubbing on my scalp.
"So, what should I talk about with your family?" Peter asks, getting the shower head and rinsing out the second round of shampoo. "Do they like Star Wars?"
