My Girl (That Girl, #2)

BLACK

BLACK

May caresses my pitch black hair, swaying her fingers through the messy knots. I desperately want to touch her hair as well, but I feel like it would cause a nuclear reaction or something. May just seems to be fragile and precious, likes she needs to be protected and cared for.

I'm in bed, on my back. My head is laid on her knees, while she plays with my hair, while her legs and feet loosely hang on the side of my bed. I look at the ceiling and then at her face. Her lilac hair still has the pale and pastel color it had the day she arrived here. It never will fade, because she just is the kind of person who cares enough about her hair to never let the dye fade.

"Does it ever fade?"

She knows exactly what I'm talking about.

"Once. I fell deep and hard for someone, I stopped taking care of it. It faded."

I close my eyes and sit up. I feel dizzy; I feel like my hair weighs a ton on my shoulders, I feel stupid.

Because yes, I thought maybe, just maybe, she was deeply in love with me. Me.

She reaches for my hair and takes a small lock that she swirls around her index. My black-like-tar hair makes a strangely pretty contrast with her milky white finger, and I watch her braid the small lock of hair she has taken. Her slender fingers cross my hair again and again until the braid is done. She reaches for her pocket and takes out a small elastic and a purple feather. She ties the feather to the end of my small braid with the black elastic. I look up at her and smile. She's unbelievably adorable, sitting one meter away from me with her Mona Lisa smile. Her hair is prominent when I look at her, almost dethroning the appealing factor of her eyes and mouth.

I want her to look at me like I look at her.

I will make her hair fade, that I promise.