Rebel Love Song

9: Trust Issues

"Dakota? Can I borrow some of your clothes? I don't really have any clean ones at the moment."

"Don't you always keep two spares?" She calls back.

"Yesterday after the show, and today, my mom."

"Gotcha. Go ahead!" I have to say, Mom looks amazing in my clothes, which is more of an insult to me. In my black and white net design skinny jeans and a black, tight fitting crop top that says, 'what, never seen a cool person before?' In thick white cursive writing. She's also wearing piano key suspenders and the flats I bought for her yesterday. I hand her the straightener and she starts her hair.

I run into Dakota's closet and search for an outfit I like. Thankfully, I still have an extra set of undergarments.

I pick out black leggings that have large slits all the way down the pant legs, but not cutting the hems, black fishnets for underneath, a heavily studded belt, full black converse, with studs at the rim and toe of the shoes, and a black tank top that says 'don't make me go all macho on you' in white bold words, all lined with the flat squared studs. For over the tank top, I grab my black and white plaid button up shirt, that I apparently left here once and head to the shower.

I step into the bathroom and shut the door, locking it. Setting my clean clothes on the closed toilet lid, thats weird. My blue hair is now more of an olive green, and the black side is more of a brown, tinted black. Gross. My nose wrinkles and I have to look away. That's weird. I knew that it was temporary dye, but I didn't think I would wash out this fast.

Without another glance, I strip off my grimey clothes and hop into the shower. I scrub my body until it's bright pink and lather my scalp with shampoo until it burns.

'Huh, you know what? It may be green from the pool. Yup, so getting it redone. Semi-permanent this time.' I quickly rinse off and watch the blue and black water swirl around my ankles before making its way down the drain. I add conditioner and swiftly shave my legs with the razor they'd left for me.

I turn off the water and cocoon myself in a soft, fluffy, plush, white towel. I quickly dry off before wrapping the towel around my head. I slip on my undergarments before pulling out my blow dryer. I honestly hate wearing clothes with wet hair, because then you get cold from the water sticking to you. So, for about 10 minutes, I blow dry my damp hair until it's completely dry. By now, Ride by Twenty One Pilots is playing, and I mentally choreograph a routine. At first, I don't notice anything out of place. my bruises are mostly healed and the crack in my lip is barely visible. I start to notice that something's off. I analyze myself for a few more minutes before I shrug it off. I get dressed in Dakota's clothes and my flannel before starting to prep for my hair.

oh my god! that's it, my hair! I gasp aloud and scramble in front of the mirror. my hair is now brown. I take a deep breath and put it in a high ponytail for now and walk out of the bathroom and into Dakota's room, only to see Dakota with her natural black hair. what the devil?

"your hair," I start, but she cuts me off, not bothering to look up from her phone from her spot on her couch.

"you know I temporary dye it. my shampoo on the very top rack in the shower is my green dye."

I know that you temporary dye your hair, and to stay away from the bright seaweed-lime green bottle labeled "temporary hair dye," Dakota, I think.

"that reminds me," she muses, looking up from her phone at me. Daniela gave me these to give to you." she gets up and goes to her closet, to come out with a 'fantastic Sam's' bag. She pulls out two bottles, one electric blue, and one black, both labeled 'temporary hair dye.' my eye twitches in annoyance, and I frown.