She had found a small hairpiece that matched myshade, and proceeded to fashion it into a second tier of curls, whichshe pinned atop the first."Betty, that's not really necessary, is it?" I asked half-heartedly."Not really, but would you deny an artist the pleasure of finishing hercreation?" She gave me a broad smile and a wink, and I smiled in spiteof myself. Betty really was a good friend, and I surely didn't want toget on her bad side - not now when I really needed her.When Betty was finished with the hairpiece she had me cover my face,then she coated the whole construction with what seemed to be half acan of hair spray. I was just uncovering my face when Mom walked intothe shop."Oh, Betty, he's beaut...I mean, his hair is perfect!"Immediately my anger returned. On the one hand, I was fascinated tosee myself with an honest-to-gosh hairstyle, but on he other hand, Iwas furious with Mom for having forced me into this predicament. Ididn't even respond when Mom greeted me, and I. Ryan looked at me with his flat brown eyes and short, oil black hair. He wore glasses, but you really didn't notice them unless you looked hard enough at him. I usually felt like a midget standing 5'2" beside his 5'9". Even though we were both 19 I felt that I wouldn't be growing anymore, while he just kept getting taller. Lucky.We were sitting on my bed next to each other and I hadn't noticed him leaning towards me, as I was contemplating how humid it must be outside. He moved my short bangs behind my ear, or at least he tried to; they were recently cut and had a bad habit of not complying.He tried again and they stayed behind my ear for a minute...then swooped back in front of my face, so he turned my head so that he could see my face more clearly. I looked at him and thought that he was leaning in for a kiss, which he was...at first.I closed my eyes and I could smell his body soap; so fresh, with that dulled outdoorsy smell that still managed to be very masculine. I felt his lips,.
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