Forbidden

10| Different

She sighed, staring at me. "You really need to fix it." 

"You're one to talk." I glanced at the rollers in her hair.

She rolled her eyes, turning around and waving me in. I walked in behind her, closing the door. She sat down at her vanity and took the rollers out, ruffling out her hair. Well, she doesn't look funny anymore. She's... stunning. Her hair is. "Go do your hair," she suggested, grabbing her hairbrush and tossing it to me. 

I caught it, looking at the black brush with roses painted onto the back. 

"Go ahead." 

I tossed it back and she caught it with one hand, blinking in confusion. "That's yours." 

"So?" 

"You're a client, need I remind you? I don't have to remind you that often because you're usually sleeping your days away, but this isn't professional." 

She scoffed, rolling her eyes, "Please. It's hair. Shut up and brush it." 

"Get ready. I'll send Ms. Bella in." I began walking to the door but she shot up and blocked my way. 

"At least fix it." 

"I'll fix it later." 

She held out the hairbrush again. I stared at it, then at her. She nodded to the two-seater by her bed. "Sit." 

"No." 

"Sit down." 

"No." 

"Please?" She grinned innocently. 

"No," I said slowly. 

"Sit," she snapped in a clipped tone. "Take that as an order." I stared down at her. "Are you refusing an order? Should I tell my dad?" Her eyes narrowed into slits. "You'll get fired," she sang, bouncing on her toes. "Sit down." She gave me a push and I sat in the seat. She held out the hairbrush again. "Go ahead." 

I just looked at her blankly and she looked at me with such frustration, I almost cracked a smile. Almost. 

"I'll brush it for you then." 

I took the hairbrush quickly and she chuckled softly, walking back to her vanity and running her fingers through her hair. I brushed my hair blindly before walking over, standing behind where she sat. I put the brush down and then left to call Ms. Bella. I got lucky, she was walking right this way. 

She grinned up at me, "Oh, don't you look handsome." 

I was not expecting that. I cleared my throat, "Grace needs your help with the dress." 

"I figured," she chuckled. "Oh, here." She reached up, fixing my hair. 

I froze up and stiffened immediately, my jaw clenching as I blinked a few times, looking at her. The moment felt too familiar. It felt like my mother. 

She smiled, "There we go." She walked around me and opened the door to Grace's bedroom, closing it behind her. 

I stood against the wall across the door, staring at the ground. I reached into my pocket and took out the lighter that used to be my father's. I carry it. I don't smoke, apart from every once in a while, but I keep it with me. I glanced at it, running my thumb over his engraved initials before pocketing it again.