I was really excited and even watched a tutorial on how to cut hair. Yet the moment he sits down infront of the bathroom mirror and I put a towel around his neck, my hands start shaking.

"Oh no, I'm scared," I comb through his wet hair, watching him smirk at me through the mirror, "if I were you I wouldn't smile."

"Just cut it, I trust you," he laughs at the strand of hair I'm holding between my two shaky fingers.

"What if you end up looking like a badly groomed poodle?" I bite my lips.

He laughs, but my anxiety gets the best of me. I put the scissors down.

"You know what- you go first." I try to get him off the chair and occupy his place so that he can attempt to dye my hair. If he makes me look like shit, at least I won't be worried about doing the same to him. But now the pressure is too much.

Clay rolls his eyes playfully, "Fine, I'll ruin you first then," he speaks and the room goes silent. That sounded wrong. I know we both just thought the same thing. And he makes it even more obvious by correcting himself, "ruin your hair I mean."

I sit down quietly. And he looks away. Then there's awkward crackling as he tries to open the cardboard box of the hairdye. Then he gives up trying to open it neatly and rips it apart eventually.

I stay silent to see how much knowledge he has of the process, but when he unfolds the foot-long instructions paper, I realize that he's the type to spend the whole night reading that in all 10 languages.

"You need to squeeze the tube into that thing-"

"Shh, I got this."

I tried to explain a few times, but he's too caught up reading the instructions. Why is he like this..

"Oh, did you know they put gloves in there too?" I can't tell if he's being serious. He just spent minutes reading that paper and that's what he got out of it.

"Yeah, but I didn't find out about it through the instructions," I look at him through the mirror, "you know, you'll actually see the gloves if you put that paper down and go through the products in the box."

He has a moment of realization looking at the mirror and finally crumples the instructions and throws it away. I watch him crack his fingers before squeezing every last bit of the pigment out of the tube. And the instructions might've helped, cause he makes the concoction with no hesitation.

Right before he gets to work, I stop him.

"Oh, wait," I realize that I'm wearing his sweater. And it's a nice sweater, I don't want to get dye stains all over it.

I cross my arms, hooking my fingers on each side of the material, and pull it off my body. Clay might've forgotten that there's a mirror infront of us, cause I catch him staring at my cleavage as I adjust my top. I'm not surprised though. I'm used to it at this point, my tits are my only personality.

"Okay, I guess I section your hair now, right?" He blinks, adjusting my head.

"You take down the ponytail first," I grin at how confused he is, "I know, it wasn't in the instructions, but you can't section hair when it's in a ponytail. "

Clay rolls his eyes and chuckles, "Shut up."

He grabs the base of my pony and pulls the hairtie down my hair, wearing it on his wrist like a bracelet as my hair falls freely down my shoulders. I get that feeling of the satisfying pain at the roots of your hair, and when he brushes through it with his fingers, my eyes almost roll to the back of my head. I'm glad I didn't moan.

Anyways, he starts roughly sectioning my hair with the pointy side of the brush. Some of the sections are too big, some are too small, but he's trying his best and he's confident, so that's all that matters.

But when he attempts to apply the dye with bare hands, I jerk away.

"Put the gloves on first," I tilt my head to grab the said gloves, but he harshly pulls my head and fixes it in a straight position, making something in my neck crack, "ow~"

"Do not move your head without my permission."

Oh?

"I just don't want you to get stains on your hands," and if I had his hands, I would cherish them.

He puts the brush down and pulls the gloves onto his hands. I watch his fingers move, mesmerized, "I know what I'm doing, okay?" I doubt it.

"You're such a control freak," I laugh, readjusting my position as he finishes his task with the gloves.

And once again, his face is questionable after my words. He looks satisfied with my remark, almost like he took it as a compliment.

"Well.." smirking, Clay looks back at my hair.

Ugh.

"Why do you say it like that?" I laugh out of frustration, making him chuckle as well.

"Like what?"

Clearing my throat, I attempt to impersonate him.

"Well~~" I try my best to get the seductive tone, but I swear, it's his voice naturally, he's not even trying.

Clay starts wheezing at my impression and accidentally gets the hairdye all over his arm. And now I'm cackling thinking about the fact that he's gonna have a random stripe of black hair on his arm.

"Noo," he whines, still laughing, "you little dumbass, is this what you wanted?"

"Just wash it off!" I laugh, leaning towards the sink to run the water.

"Stop moving!" Because Clay's holding the brush with one hand and the hairdye with the other, he swings an arm around my neck and pulls my head back to its place. And even though he does it gently, I choke seeing the reflection of his arm around my throat.

Well, isn't this going great already?

I just found out that I've been played for months, cried for literal hours, my hair is halfway covered in black dye and somehow my brain decides that it's a good time to thirst over a wheezing idiot.

It's safe to say that I sat there motionless until he finished just because he told me to. Sometimes it really shows that I grew up without a dad.

Anyways, as I check if he missed any spots or not, I realize that he did a better job than I could ever do.

"Wow, you're such an artist, aren't you?" I praise his work.

"If that makes you my work of art.."

Oh no.

What is happening to me? He makes me wanna eat him. I'd swallow him whole actually.

Which reminds me-

"Where are the snacks?" I look around, too flustered to look at him.

Help, I'm losing my sanity.

"On the bed..?" The way he's holding back a smile makes me wanna die cause it makes me realize that we're in the bathroom.

Well, that was a stupid question to ask. I'm gonna go now and stuff my mouth with food before more stupid shit comes out of it.

"Don't forget to wash your hair in fifteen minutes, moonshine."

Haha. Moonshine.

Fuck.