The Odds | ✓

5

aden's endangered forehead

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Aden feels like a child being taken care of as he sits on the bed cross legged, hands neatly folded on his lap while Jia dries his hair for him. She slides her fingers through his locks and pushes his bangs off his forehead, making him scrunch his nose a little at the warmth he feels on his skin from the dryer.

He peeks up at her through his lashes, taking in her pretty orange sweater and shiny purple hair neatly falling past her shoulders through her beanie, and he's convinced that no matter what he wears today, he's going to look like an idiot beside her.

"Your hair is so soft," Jia comments, frowning a little as if offended. "Boys don't even take care of their hair. What's your hair so fluffy for? I feel like mine would crack like spaghetti under my fingers if I don't wash it every other day."

Aden cracks a smile. "You're exaggerating. Your hair looks fine."

"That's because I spent hours trying to make it look like that."

"Hours?"

"Hours, Ade. I'm serious."

"Wow."

"See? You're surprised because you don't have to make an effort. What's your hair-care routine?"

A routine? People have a routine? "I don't know... I run my fingers through it before leaving the house sometimes."

"God, I hate men," Jia grumbles under her breath before ruffling his hair some more.

She turns the dryer off, and it's then that Aden realizes how loud the machine was. He blinks a few times, watching Jia make her way to his closet.

"Don't go back in there," he jokes, setting his elbows on his thighs and cupping his face between his hands. His skin is slightly cold from the water, but he likes the way he smells after a shower. It calms him.

"Shut up. Where's the beige sweater?"

"It's not a date, Jia."

"Well, we're about to make it one. If you tell me where that sweater is."

"It's not going to be a date." He repeats and falls back on the bed, staring at the ceiling with a frown. I would love for it to be one, though.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head.

Aden hasn't forgotten about the girl that came with him to the café. Unless he finds out who she is, he's going to lock his feelings behind a door and pretend they don't exist. Not that he wasn't doing it already, but he's going to pretend that fact doesn't exist either.

He has to get used to doing that in case she turns out to be someone he's dating.

Is it my job to voluntarily make myself miserable?

"The sweater... Aden. I'll raid your closet. I'll go feral. I don't care. You have three seconds."

"Jesus, it's behind the door."

"See, was that so hard?"

"Is it so hard to understand that this isn't a date?"

Jia doesn't reply. He watches her pick the sweater off the hanger, smoothing it with her palm before holding it against her body and wiggling her eyebrows at Aden while he just rolls his eyes, sitting up again.

"I'm going to look like an idiot, all dressed up in the middle of a bunch of teenagers drinking cheap alcohol."

Jia takes hold of his hand and pulls him off the bed, and he begrudgingly lets her, taking the sweater from her hand. "You don't have to be all dressed up to look like an idiot," she comments, getting a shove from Aden in return. She punches him on the arm, and he pretends to be hurt, dramatically rushing to the other side of the room like someone threw him.

"You wound me."

"It's because I'm right."

"Yeah, you are."

"Yeah — Hey." She plucks a pillow off his bed and throws it at him, missing him by such a long shot, Aden scoffs. She ignores him. "No self deprecating jokes! We talked about this. Only I'm allowed to insult you. No one else. Not even you."

Aden's hand is on the bathroom door when he says, "That doesn't even make sense."

"Best friend privileges. Now go change."

Ten minutes later, he's dressed in the same sweater and sitting on his chair that he's usually on to get his assignments done, and Jia's hands are in his hair again. She's brushing his bangs away, pushing them back and off of his forehead which is very unlike Aden. She sprays it to keep it that way.

He doesn't remember the last time he didn't have his hair covering his forehead. If anything, he had been planning on growing his hair out until it reaches all the way down his face and he never has to talk to people again.

When she's done, she takes a step back and looks down at him, a slow smile taking over her lips.

"You look handsome."

"You said I always look like an idiot —" She shushes him, holding both of her hands up in front of his face. Aden waits for her to put her hands back down before quickly adding, "Make up your mind."

Jia flicks his forehead.

"Hey, ow. I was hurt there!" His bump had healed pretty much the same day he got it.

"I think I'm liking this exposed forehead thing."

"I hate you."

"You won't after you get yourself a boyfriend today."

Aden swats her hands away when she tries to flick him again. "Not a date."

"We'll see."

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