Colors//m.c

Twenty Nine

     I inspected my now dark purple hair, running my hands through the dampened strands. I noted the different colored purple streaks in it, because I didn't bleach my hair. I was reminded of how my hair used to be. Sure, it didn't cascade down my back, and I couldn't braid it. But this seemed more like me. Especially with the new colors. I felt so... Bland without my normal colors.

I just dreaded hearing what Dave had to say about it.

Ever since we became closer, he had been attempting to refrain from criticizing everything (which was a step up from ignoring me altogether), but I knew he hated how I dyed my hair.  He claimed it was unnatural, and "slutty". I guess we both had opposite opinions of what was slutty.

"Macey!" There was sharp rapping on the bathroom door. Michael. "Let me see!" I could hear the anticipation in his voice.

I flung open the bathroom door, coming face to face with Michael, running a hand through his newly dyed bright green hair.

"Oh my god! I love it!" He gushes.

"You sound like a girl!" I giggle, nudging him playfully, happy he liked my hair. I was still undecided.

"But," He winks. "I'm your girl." I stand there, dumbfounded. What? "That sounded bad. It was supposed to be a joke!" He rushes, grabbing my waist and pulling me closer to his wet body (He was in clothes). "Kinky."

Dear god.

"Your an idiot." I tell him, throwing my arms around his neck as I hug him. I breathed in the smell of his soap. He smelled like the blue Axe and coconuts. I had an urge to tell him I loved him again. The urge was always there. but I knew how that would end up.

"Did you use coconut conditioner?" I suddenly question as I pull away.

"Yes." He says shyly.

"You smell good." I say, staring him right in his eyes, as his face is enveloped in a smile. "Its nice." I reassure him again, moving forward to peck his cheek.

"So we can drop you off in like an hour, and tell Dave and Myrcella that you stopped by my house after school to dye your hair, right?" Michael asks after a few minutes, pulling away. I instantly want to be close to him again.

I nod, pulling on a strand of string hanging from Michael's shirt, which I had "Checked In" as mine. "Can we get Taco Bell? Like it's happy hour there and-"

"Yeah, because as you can tell, I can't cook for shit." Michael laughs, shaking his head. I just really loved Taco Bell. Maybe Myrcella was rubbing off on me.

"I can cook!" I say excitedly. "I mean, not that well. But I can cook a little. Without burning down the house I currently live in. Maybe you could come to my house for dinner, and I'll make us something?" I ask him, shyly, as if not knowing his answer.

"I have some stuff to do for my dad tonight, but then I can come." Michael runs another hand through his bright hair, which he obviously was excited about. I had to admit, that color looked good on him. I was yet to see a color he couldn't pull off.

"Did you know Myrcella can't cook? Like at all? She literally loves tacos so much, so she always gets taco bell!" I burst out saying, as if its hard to believe. I honestly didn't think a grown woman could love Taco Bell so much. Especially a woman as skinny as her.

Michael looks at me for a few seconds, his eyes squinted, and a half smile on his face. I stayed quiet, in anticipation of what he was going to say.

"Your so cute."

-

My dad looks at me, eyes wide, and mouth wide open. Myrcella stands beside him, leaning into his arms, a smirk playing upon her pink lips.