Street Lights || Sim Jake

20 ¦ Braids & Curls

Even though we only dared to make one frozen pizza, it got burnt anyway, but I have to blame Jake for that. He took a pretty detailed look at my room when I gave him a little tour of the house.

It took him forever to tear himself away from the pictures on my desk, because little Estela was on them. With two pigtails, a big gap in her teeth, and a giant crab in her hand. I was a real eye-catcher. Jake saw it the same way.

We sat in the living room on the sofa and in the background you could hear the radio, which Abuela had always turned on. Since she wasn't here now and I missed her a bit, I had turned it on to give me the feeling of not being alone. 

I took the last piece of pizza from my plate and let myself fall back into the soft backrest of the light green sofa. On the other side, by the other backrest, was Jake, gazing intently at his slice before shoving it into his mouth and chewing. 

My eyes lingered on his freckles and automatically my gaze fell on the tangled curl above his left eye. "Didn't know you had curls." 

When he realized I had addressed him, his eyes met mine. At first he was confused, until it must have occurred to him that he probably hadn't blow-dried his hair straight. Without saying anything, he pulled his hood over his head and hid his black curls. 

"Should have kept it that way, too." He straightened up and put his cell phone on the small coffee table in the middle of the clean carpet. 

"Why? Suits you." He shook his head and moistened his lips. "With curls, I officially look like the little boy next door." Translated; He thought he looked too innocent and cute with his curls. 

I laughed and pushed myself out of the cushion. The Spaniard tugged a bit at the sleeve of his hoodies and I took advantage of his inattention to bring his blemish back into the light. Nimbly, I ripped the hood off his head and made sure he couldn't pull it back over his head either.

I leaned against him with all my weight and fought against his big hands, which wanted to get rid of me. Several noises escaped from my mouth, because I was much weaker. By the way, I found that quite unfair. No matter how much a girl trained or practiced. Even an untrained boy, who didn't care about the gym, was stronger. 

To my disadvantage, Jake was one of the guys who valued sports, which could be seen in his figure. What I really wanted to say with this statement was that I was a pretty athletic and trained girl and was always proud of the fact that I was better at sports than the other girls.

My ego was so blatantly boosted at the time that I had forgotten that boys are naturally more powerful. But despite my disadvantage, I kept going and hoped that Jake would give up.

"Release the curls! Give them the life they deserve!", I laughed as the Spaniard fell into the soft cushion with me, still trying to get my hands off his hood. "I care more about my life than theirs, though." 

Playfully annoyed, I disengaged from my friend and squatted straight down again. Jake was still in front of me, looking up at me suspiciously, as he couldn't gauge whether or not I was planning another attack. 

"Imagine someone grabbing you and squeezing you all flat and doing it with a really hot hanger or hot air." Interested, the idiot waited for me to continue my argument and a smirk decorated his rather reddish lips. "That's how your curls feel." I pointed at them, trying to come across as dramatic. 

"Oh really? Do they?" It seemed like Jake was testing my patience and I tried not to attack him. "If you want to rape them so badly, I'm not going to talk you out of it. But at least let them live in my presence." 

As if they were living creatures, I looked pityingly at his curls and slowly a playful grin formed on my mouth. My gaze lingered on one strand and I got an idea. "You like me, don't you? I'm a good friend of yours. You can certainly do me a favor." 

As if he had already agreed, I rose from the sofa, took the empty plate to the kitchen for a moment, and then stood behind Jake, who put his head back and looked at me, slightly frightened. "Let me make you a little braid." 

As I uttered this sentence, the affected jumped up very quickly and moved away from me. "You can forget that." Hypocritically, I followed him slowly, and with each step I took toward him, he took one back. "I can arrange that with the curls, but there's no way I'm letting you braid my hair. That tears my pride to the ground."

"Does it?" He nodded and had his hands raised a bit when I took big strides and tore him down laughing. I grabbed his shoulders and lifted my feet off the ground, hoping that would make him falter, but he merely put his arms around my body, pressed me lightly against himself, and continued to stay upright. 

I could move very little, no longer in contact with the ground, and had run myself into a trap. My head was at an angle against his right collarbone, and since I had no idea how high off the ground I was, I latched onto his shoulders. 

"That wasn't the plan," I muttered against the warm skin of the Eiffel Tower, trying to free myself. A harsh laugh rang out and the chest against my ear vibrated. "Shit happened, huh?" 

My legs hung lifelessly down and by now I was aware that Jake wasn't going to let me down because he was so smart and realized that if he could keep me in check like this, I couldn't get to his hair, so I decided to take the high road. I would not give up. 

"Come on. Just one little braid," I grumbled in concentration as I tensed my abs to pull my legs up so I could wrap them, for stability, around his body. Sensing this, he took a step or two back and forth as I was now trying to push myself up against his shoulders. One of his hands grasped one of my thighs and I used that support. 

"Outsiders would think we were sick in the head," came from a heavy-hearted Spaniard who, on the one hand, wanted to get rid of me but, on the other, was making sure I wouldn't fall to the ground.

"Not necessarily. We could just be practicing for a circus performance," it escaped my mouth when I had already gotten quite a bit higher and was clutching my legs around his stomach. "Oh well. Anyway, I'm going to braid a cute little braid now," I warbled, proud of myself for climbing a tall tower.

Jake pushed my legs away from him and jerkily, since I had stopped holding on with my hands, I reached the ground with my feet and looked disappointedly at my fingers, which had recently had black strands around them. 

"You'd still do quite well as a circus monkey," was all the Spaniard said, and then, smiling, pushed me towards the sofa, where he made himself comfortable again. 

"One day I'll braid a strand for you." Deadly serious I fixed his hazel brown eyes and crossed my arms.

A/N: *screams in couplegoals*