My mouth parts unsure how to respond when she eyes me. Popping a grape in her mouth.
“It sounds great.” My smile over the top, throwing out a quick response.
The answer seems to appease her. Her stylist gets right to work while mine waits. I’m sure waiting on a similar demand.
I pull on a small strand, running it through my fingers, uncertain of what to do.
Hailey sighs beside me and I glance over about to ask for help but her eyes were already closed in leisure. Guess I was on my own.
I catch my hairstylist’s face in the mirror. Her expression kind, sensing my hesitation. Taking the initiative, for which I was grateful.
“You have beautiful waves,” she notes, playing with a few of my strands. “Are they natural?” she asks curiously.
When I nod, her eyes brighten in admiration. I had started wearing it more like this since the party at the Casper’s. Not realizing how much time it took out of my morning to straighten it until I stopped doing it completely.
“This isn’t your natural color.” She doesn’t say it as a question, more of a statement eyeing my lighter roots. “Have you ever thought about going back to your natural color?”
My pulse kicks up a notch as my head tugs back. “Natural?”
The wild color of my honey-blonde hair something I hadn’t seen in years.
Her overly glossed lips smash together as her fingers stall taking in my reaction.
It was only a question and yet it caught me off guard more than it should have. I had changed my hair because I was ashamed of who I had been.
Furious at my mother, upset at my father, and envious of anyone who had a normal life. But that wasn’t me. I wasn’t born into a world of sanity and rationality. I grew up in chaos and uncertainty.
I thought I was done hiding. I had been wrong. My hair was the last thing keeping me from fully embracing who I was. Who I had become.
I suck in a sharp breath. Realizing I was no longer afraid. This was my life and I had nothing to hide. Nothing to be ashamed of. I had embraced who I was. To my every last flaw.
I nod my head curtly. We were going back to authentic.
“Natural it is.”
This dark color wasn’t me anymore. I was over it.
Finn and Abram stand at the bottom of the stairs. Both dressed in fitted black tuxes that I’m sure cost more than a down payment on a car.
Abram was helping Finn with his bow tie. He must have said something because his son shoots him a small look, before the edges of his mouth lift.
My lungs clench. I felt like I was intruding on an intimate moment between the pair. Finn looks so innocent, and Abram’s smile is genuine as he runs his fingers along the suit’s collar. Smoothing out its edges. A small bit of pride showing toward his son.
It’s Finn who spots me first. The expression on his face grows as he rolls his lips over his teeth. A high-pitched whistle followed soon after.
The sound gained Abram’s attention. Turning, he follows his son’s direction of sight. His eyebrows dip, pinching together harshly before they soften.
The iridescently sequenced train of my dress fans out. Easily gliding behind me as I descend the stairs.
Abram never breaks his stare. His eyes glimmer, growing glossier the longer he looks. At some point, his hand had fallen to his mouth almost unconsciously.
His expression, actually both of their looks cause my ribs to expand as I reach the bottom.
“Rory, you look…”
“…Incredible,” Finn finishes when Abram can’t. Shooting his father a puzzled glance. He doesn’t notice.
Abram’s face too enamored watching me. It’s like he was seeing me but not at the same time. Like he was in a daze. It felt like he was looking through me.