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[audio transcript]
Mom, I nearly lost it when I saw her come out of that salon.
I swear to you, I nearly folded to my knees.
Her tamed, ordinary hair had been transformed into the hair of a goddess. A black cloud around her tiny face, curls framing that gorgeous bone structure. I still haven’t looked her directly in the eye. I can’t. Her beautiful, delicate cat-like eyes, next to that hair… I will get absolutely destroyed.
Why did I ever suggest taking her there?
Big mistake. Huge.
I should never have suggested she go in that salon, but how was I supposed to know that it was possible for her to look even hotter?
I am in so much trouble. I can’t take my eyes off her, I can barely breathe.
Now what am I supposed to do?
twelve
I come out of the salon with my afro in full glory and Marco looks at me.
And looks. And looks.
Then he says:
“Wow.”
He can’t stop staring at my hair. He randomly takes a curl and weaves it around his finger absentmindedly. I don’t even know if he realizes he’s doing it.
“I need to take you somewhere when you look like this,” he tells me, his voice a rasp.
“Ok,” I say.
He takes me to the fanciest restaurant within the three miles’ radius, an impressive establishment of grand stairs and white tablecloths. Even though the menu is impressive, I’ve had dishes like that before, so many times. What I have never experienced is a meal alone with a guy my age. I can’t wait to have an actual, real conversation with him.
At first, we are both so ravenous, we barely talk as everything in sight disappears down our throats.
But then, I start tentatively asking him questions, but he is so closed off. I mean, I know that he has literally no interest in me, but he seems to hate answering even the simplest of questions.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” I ask him. “You know about me.”
I expect him to laugh, snort or say something smart like he usually does, but instead he twists in his seat, looking uncomfortable.
“I don’t think we should do this,” he starts saying.
“I think we should,” I interrupt him, beginning to get a little annoyed.
Gosh, he really does not like me, does he? Well, tough. There is no one else here to talk to, so he will have to do.
“Fine,” he says. “I’m an only child.”
“As far as you know,” I add as a joke (mostly).
He looks at me. “No,” he says. “I do know. Not everyone’s family is a mess.”
Ouch.
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes immediately, “that was rude. I’m being an ass again, aren’t I?” he smiles down at his plate, biting his jaw. And dammit, I forgive him on the spot.
