Evan Adams, I'll Never Love You

PART ONE

PART ONE

Evan Adams liked brunettes best. He liked the way their hair flowed like caramel-chocolate round their shoulders, and he liked that special way light caught in brown hair, turning it soft and supple.

At least that's what Marie told me, as she dipped my silvery-blonde locks into the pool of 'Chocolate-Dunk" hair-dye lapping over the edges of my bathroom sink. 

"Keep your head down!" Marie shoved my forehead, completely submerging my hair, the back of my skull hitting the sink's bottom. Farewell, badly done bleach-job. You served me well in my quest to be a social outcast. "You don't want this to end up like dip-dye. Have you even seen Kasey Turner's ombre? She looks, like, so Kim Kardashian, but, like, last year." 

"Yeah," I mumbled, fiddling with the friendship bracelets at my wrists. "Try not to get any of it on the tiles."

"Babe! Have faith. There's no way I'm gonna spill any of this." The puddles of muddy-looking water already on the floor spoke measures against her assurance. 

"Okay.  But Mum will chuck an absolute spaz if you don't clean it up." 

"Have faith, Cass, have faith." Marie dug her razor-sharp manicure deep into my skull and began to massage there, as I squirmed around. 

"I already told you, no nicknames." 

"But you're name is so long!" Marie turned the tap on again, water spraying into my face. The excess murky liquid in the sink came spilling down in a torrent over the brink. "Oops." Marie sounded more confused than sorry, as we both watched the tidal wave of sludgy dye concoction flood across the bathroom floor. 

Shit. There was no way we - or most probably, I -  would be able to wash the stains away. Mum was going to kill me, then reincarnate me to give me a lecture, then kill me again. 

“Don’t worry,” I told Marie anyway, even though she didn’t look like she was worrying at all. “And my name only has three syllables in it. Thats just one more than yours has.”

“Ca - ass - i - dy,” Marie articulated carefully, stretching the three syllables into four. “Na-uh. That’s definitely more than three. And whatever. Cass is so much easier, anyway.”

“But it’s not my - Oh who cares.” I breathed heavily out though my nose. Sometimes Marie was almost adorable in her cluelessness, my own little Dori, easily misled. Right now I was considering kicking her out and finishing up my new look myself.

“Besides, Cass is cooler too. And you’ve gotta be cooler if you want Evan Adams to notice you.” Marie rolled his last name over her tongue, like it was even important than his first. 

“C’mon. Get real. There is no way Evan, Evan Adams, is ever going to -“ I didn’t want to be too harsh on her. I mean, sure she wasn’t the shiniest rock in the rock garden, if you catch my drift, but she was still my friend, friend enough to try and help me get my look together.

“You’re done!” Marie cut right over my point. 

“Don’t I have to leave it to soak a bit longer?” I asked, reaching for the foil hair-dye packet on the sink’s edge.

Marie snatched it out of my reach. “Nope.” 

Then she plucked the basin plug out, sucking the sink's contents, along with almost the entirety of my hair, into the drain.

“Marie!” I shrieked. “Put it back in! My hair! Agh!”

“I’m sorry!” She pushed the plug in, wrenching my head back by the hair still trapped.

“No!” I desperately tried to undo the plug. “Get my hair out! Then put the plug back in!”

“Oh my god, oh my god,” she shouted, panicking because I was panicking. She ripped out the plug and, grabbing a handful of my hair, yanked my head into the clear. 

I grabbed a towel from beside the basin, wrapping it round my head and rubbing it. There was dye dripping from the shower screen, the mirror, my clothes, my arms and Marie's hands. 

“Do you think it’ll dye skin?” Marie fretted. 

“Maybe. Why?” My head stung all over. I probably had a bald patch at the back. I was too scared to check. 

“Because what if I get, like, brown skin, like one of those tacky spray on tans, but just on my hands. It’ll be like a watch-tan, but so much worse. I’ll look like Greta Dixon did when she came back from her trip to, I don’t know, Italy or something, and she got that gross fake skin toning thing- you remember - and she looked like some D-list knockoff, because her neck was K-stew pale, and her face was four shades darker, so Nicki Minaj. That look is just not in.” Marie brought one hand halfway to her Kiwi-watermelon flavoured baby-balm glossed lips, as if to chew her inch long, fluorescent pink nails, before thinking worse of it and dropping it back down.

“I don’t think it works on skin,” I tried to soothe her, slightly at loss to what she was rambling on about. 

“Oh, never mind.” Marie smoothed her sparkly dress down, already moving on to other subjects. “Is your hair dry yet?” 

“I dunno -“

Marie ripped the towel of my head.

“Ohmigawd!” she practically screamed. I couldn’t tell if it was an excited or horrified ‘ohmigawd’ though. It was the same ‘ohmigawd’ she hollered when Jennifer Lopez - or J-low, as Marie liked to call her, because “thats what all her real fans called her” - came onto the radio. 

Suddenly terrified, I turned to look in the mirror. My hair - if the strawy, dirt-coloured tangle of knots could still be called hair - resembled a dead, possibly festering possum, which had set up camp on my head before it became deceased. Long drips of dye were running down the mirror, cutting through my reflection.

My mouth opened and shut, like a goldfish’s.

 “Oh. My. God.” 

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Hey, if you've read this far into the story, then you rock. 

I've tried to edit the best I could by myself. I spent almost an hour getting up the nerves to finally and actually post this. Apologies if it's hard to read. I'll post the next part up... soon?? Well, anyway, if you've read this and enjoyed it please recommend it to someone else. :) :) 

And I'm kinda new to wattpad, so if you have any recommendations of other stories you like on wattpad, please comment them. 

xx FangirlRoyale