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CARVER RESIDENCE FEBRUARY 7TH, 12:43 PM.
...
"STAY STILL, DUDE." Dovani's voice rang through Semaji's ears as she rolls her eyes, still twisting his locs with the all-purpose comb she had in between her fingers.
It was mere hours before Semaji and Sahara's birthday celebration later that night at a club downtown. They considered themselves Irish twins. They were born on the same day, different year. Sahara was turning 23 and he was turning 28. He had refused to go to a loc specialist to get his hair retwisted when he could get it done in the comfort of his own home.
"You heavy handed as fuck," Semaji groaned as his head was like a bobble head— letting her twist it every which was she needed. "I'm not going nowhere, shorty."
"You know I don't do this shit, Maj. You could've went to your stylist for this." She shook her head.
"You do it the best tho." He pouted at her, laying his head on her inner thigh. His hair started making her leg itch as she was wearing shorts while she did his hair.
"Semaji. You bouta' piss me off, forreal. Let me finish yo' hair. Please, baby." She groaned, trying to finish the last twist. The last couple days, her mood was sucky and her anxiety had gotten worse. She was trying to do his hair because she did have an appointment in about two hours but he just wanted to play around. She did hair on the side, just for fun. She had gotten her certification back in college.
Semaji chuckled lowly, sensing her rising frustration but also the underlying tension that wasn't just about his locs. He knew when Dovani was stressed, her patience wore thin. Still, his playful nature sometimes got the better of him, especially when it came to lightening the mood.
"Aight, I'm sorry, baby. I'll chill," he said, making an effort to hold his head steady. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of Dovani's fingers skillfully maneuvering through his hair, the gentle tug comforting in its familiarity.
Dovani took a deep breath, the rhythmic motion of her hands working through Semaji's hair slowly easing the tightness in her chest. She knew he preferred her touch over the loc specialist not just for comfort but because it was their thing — a small but intimate ritual that had woven itself into the fabric of their relationship. "Just a few more minutes, and you're done," she murmured, her tone softening.
As she secured the last twist, Dovani's thoughts drifted to the evening ahead. The birthday celebration at the club was more for Semaji than for her; the loud, crowded scenes weren't really her thing anymore, especially not with her anxiety gnawing at the edges of her calm. But tonight was important to him, and she'd muster through.
"There, all handsome again," she said with a half-smile, brushing a kiss onto the top of his head as she finished. Semaji reached up to feel his freshly done locs, a satisfied grin spreading across his face.
