Six Types of Love

➻ Pragma | Three

                                                                               

                                                                             Pragma | Three

                                                                                       

                                                                                      • • •

     

     DARIAN SORT OF liked his new hair cut. Not because it made him look like a cookie cutter of those office guys who all supported short crew cuts, but because it saved him time in the shower when it came to washing it.

Darian sat naked on the toilet with the seat down as he waited for the water to warm up so he could take a shower. Living in a shitty apartment complex really had no perks, with the lack of hot water, cockroach infestation, and the typical upstairs neighbors who had loud sex on the weekends, he sometimes questioned himself if it was really worth the cheap rent. Especially since he was already behind on paying last month’s rent.

Warm steam enveloped the bathroom, informing him that he could now take a decent shower for about ten minutes before the hot water went out again. He stepped into the corroded bathtub and let the water drench him as he pumped shampoo into his hand before rubbing it into his scalp. As he did this, Darian thought about Maya.

He recalled the day before yesterday’s events, where Maya had dragged him to her personal stylist, Tatiana, a Spanish girl with a thick accent. Although Darian could actually get used to his new hair, he would never admit it to Maya. She would find endless ways to ridicule him and besides, he wouldn’t be able to stand her saying, I told you so. Especially after the scene he made yesterday in front of her and her stylist.

You sure know how to pick em’ May, the stylist, Tatiana, had said as Darian cringed whenever she brought the scissors near his hair. And every time he did this, Tatiana would frown and tell him, hold still damn it.

Darian finally held still after her third warning—I’ll cut your ear off if you move another inch—deciding it was best to just watch his hair be cut since he couldn’t do anything about it anyways. Maya had watched him through the reflection, their eyes locking a few times before she had excused herself to answer a call. Darian didn’t know how to feel about the heiress, his first reaction was to be frustrated with the way she treated him, in a condescending manner, but at the same time he was thankful, intimidated, and not to mention, extremely attracted to her.

The feelings and thoughts he had of her the first time they met, they were still there, swimming in his mind and preventing him from sleeping at night. It made him restless, the way she moved—no, sauntered, the way she talked and laughed, the way she carried herself so confidently. Darian thought back to the night he met her, it felt so long ago when really it was just a few days prior. He thought about the way he had kissed her and the way she felt under his touch and then realized that it didn’t mean anything at all. She was using him like he was using her, they were a person of interest to each other and although they were supposed to act like lovers, it was technically more like a business deal. No strings attached and professional, not personal.

Darian turned the water off and just as he was grabbing a towel and wrapping it around himself, a loud pounding sounded at his front door. Darian raised an eyebrow, wondering who the hell would be knocking at his door so early in the morning. He stepped out of the shower; a layer of steam blanketing the air and mirror. The knocking got even louder as he exited the bathroom, soaking wet and leaving a wet trail on the hardwood floor. “I’m coming damn it,” he said, finally opening the door.