Anxiety is a bitch. (I've started to say swear words after my talk with Luke, but tried not to overdo it.) It really is. Everyone expects the good girl Link to be all perfect. Perfect grades, perfect family, perfect life - but that's not the case, for anyone. It's been 10 minutes, and I was still waiting for Luke to arrive. Anxiety took over me as I stood by the red brick wall, right where Luke and I were yesterday.
Automatically, I questioned everything:
"Am I bad enough?"
"Did someone just walk past here?"
"Should I lean against the wall to seem more intimidating?"
I told my brain to shut the hell up.
Quickly, I ran a hand through my hair and took a breath, pulling the sleeves from my hoodie over my hands. Just as I took a quick look around, I saw Luke approach me. But he wasn't alone. On his side was a boy, one of his friends, the one with colored hair. In the boy's hand was a white plastic bag. Shit.
"Hey there, doll," Luke sneakily grinned. "You know Michael, don't you?"
I nodded and Michael looked at me up and down, as if I was something to eat. "We have class together, love. I'm sure you remember me," he said.
"Maybe I would if you show up every once and a while," I chuckled sarcastically. "But, we know that's never going to happen, huh?"
"Funny," he remarked. Luke spoke up after him, "Let's get going."
By now, there were a million thoughts racing through my head. I was about to go home with two teenage boys while my dad was home as well, and on top of that, I had no idea what in God's name they were going to do to me. What were they going to do to me anyways?
The ride to my house was awkward as all hell. Luke, for some odd reason, did not say anything. Michael, on the other hand, talked too much and kept flirting with me. The only time Luke actually said something was when Michael was flirting and he'd say something like, "Shut the fuck up."
Relieved, we all got out of the car and I went to unlock the front door. As we stepped inside, I saw my father sitting at the dinner table. He was doing what he usually did - mope. Though, I'm in no position to complain about him moping when I was practically doing the same thing. He barely grunted when he heard our arrival, but when he looked up, my dad stood up from his seat and gave a weird, then protective look.
"Hey, sugar," he said to me. "Who are these two?"
"They're.. my friends," the word 'friends' rolled off of my tongue in a surreal way. "Here to help me study. I've been struggling a bit in literature."
Literature is my best subject.
"Both of them?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
I nodded, "I need the extra help. Class is really difficult right now."
"It's summer, kitten. You don't need to be studying already." My dad crossed his arms consciously, glancing down at Michael. "What's in the bag, son?" he asked Michael, using his intimidating voice.
"Books, sir," Michael replied, and I was immediately surprised by his use of the word 'sir.'
Dad nodded, sitting back down again into his same old rusty wooden seat. "Alright," he approved, but seemed very protective. "Leave the door open, Link." When he mentioned leaving the door open, my cheeks felt warm and turned a light pink color, as Luke beside me smirked.
"We definitely will," Luke's deep voice replied.
Grabbing both Michael and Luke's arm by the hand, I pulled those two up the stairs before the conversation could go on and get any more awkward. But then, Luke took control and gripped my wrist, dragging me to the bathroom (with Michael too).
"Jesus Christ," I murmured, slipping my wrist away from Luke's grip. "Why are we in the bathroom? Are you gonna experiment on me like UFOs or...?"
Luke snickered, "No, Link, we're continuing project alien abduction another time. Right now, let's just focus on project bad girl, eh?"
"We'll be dying your hair today, Link," Michael said as he took out the hair dying supplies from the white bag.
Through all of the years, I've only "dyed" my hair once. Now, I say "dyed" with the quotes because, well, it was with Crayola markers. I was twelve years old, and in my emo phase. With my parents, they were fairly strict, so I couldn't wear eyeliner, ripped jeans, etc. They didn't allow me to dye my hair either, but did I listen? Of course not.
"What the hell?" I exclaimed, taking a small step back. "You are not touching my hair."
"Would you rather I touch something else?" Michael winked, and I gasped, lightly pushing him.
I shook my head instead, refusing. "Michael, you can dye my hair when fucking pigs fly. But until then, my hair is not being dyed."
"It's just blue! Just a light, pastel blue. It'll look great on you, I promise," Michael said. "Besides, I've always thought that you'd look great with blue hair."
But all that arguing with Michael made me realize that Luke still stood in the back of me, where he held a clear plastic container of the blue substance and was already putting it through my hair. I didn't even notice he was, until I argued that Michael never will, and he said, "Too late."
I let out a frustrated, irritable huff and mumble, "Bullshit." To get more comfortable, because I sure as hell am not standing up this whole time, I sat down on the toilet seat cover and let Luke run the dye through my hair. Surprisingly, it actually felt quite soothing. It was like he was almost massaging my head with the blue dye.
"Hey, Link," Michael looked up from his phone and said quietly to me. "Do you have a hair dryer and brush anywhere? We'll need that for later."
Without opening my eyes, I sleepily said, "Mhmm, it's in my room. Down the hall, to the left."
"Great, thanks," Michael said and I heard the door open and shut. Michael was gone. It was just me and Luke in the room.
"Feel nice?" Luke questioned and whispered to me.
"Very," I whispered back. "Keep doing that."
Luke chuckled softly and kept massaging my hair, making sure to get the dye on my roots as well.
"You'll look really nice with blue hair, sweetness."