Legally Blonde | Lashton AU

4 ; scotland

This stupid old town only had one salon.

Luke had been looking for one since he got out of class-- that was 9 in the morning. Now it was 3 in the afternoon. The salon was pretty far from campus, no wonder everyone at Harvard looked so... dull. They just didn't have a nearby salon to fabulize them. Luke was thankful he actually found one, no matter how far away.

The salon looked somewhat run-down, with a slight, cozy air to it. Even though it wasn't like what Luke was used to, he figured that he had to deal with it if he wanted Brendon back. He entered with a chime of the bells.

"Hey, welcome to the Hair Affair," greeted a man with pale locks. "I'm Michael— I'll be helping you out today. You're in good hands, don't worry. I'm awesome. C'mon, sit down."

The stylist, Michael, led the blonde to a swivel chair, sitting down across him. Luke loved swivel chairs. Honestly, who doesn't love spinning around while sitting? It was a universal time-wasting favorite. But that wasn't what Luke came for.

"So how can I help you, blondie?"

"I need you to make me a brunette."

"You—" Michael gaped. "You WHAT?"

Luke hesitated, but nodded to confirm.

"What do you mean, you want to be a brunette?" the stylist was sputtering. Luke felt like he could identify— he couldn't believe he was about to do this, either. "Blondie, you're a genetic lotto win! You can't just give that up. Why would you do that?"

"Um," Luke began.

"Okay, no." Michael breathed in. "Clearly, there's something else going on here. Go on, blondie. Tell me all about it— I'm listening."

For a split second, Luke hesitated. Maybe all the Brendon stuff was too private? Michael wouldn't want to hear about that. But then again, he was a hair stylist. Hair stylists gave the best advice, always. Every time Luke's stylist back home decided on the blonde's outfit for a date with Brendon, Luke would get laid. Obviously, stylists are magic. Luke needed to tell Michael everything.

"Okay, so, I'm Luke Hemmings and I came all the way out here to come to Harvard Law School."

Michael nodded. "Smart kid."

"Oh, it wasn't easy, believe me." Luke had flashbacks to the hot frat boys. "I actually cried while trying to get in."

Because of the frat boys.

Sexy, sexy frat boys. Flushed and shirtless, sweat glistening under the warm Malibu sun. Toned, muscular torsos with nice a—

"Yeah, but what's the matter? Your professor think you're too blonde, or something?"

Luke snapped out of his reverie. "No, but... Well, I came here to follow the love of my life, Brendon. He broke up with me to go to Harvard. It's just that when I got here he suddenly told me he was dating this bitch, Selena— a totally evil preppie. She wants my head, I swear."

"Damn, mate, you have it hard," Michael mumbled. "But what's she got that you don't?"

Luke paused. "A vagina? Boobs?"

"Doesn't matter." The stylist scoffed. "It's what's on the inside that counts."

"She's got a uterus," Luke said. "Fallopian tubes, a womb, ovaries, egg cells—"

"Alright, alright, whatever! Not the best thing to say." The stylist waved a hand. "But seriously. What's going through that guy's head? You're a catch. One of a kind. I'd date you if you were five years older."