Love/Fail

Chapter 8

"Stop that." I pulled the tail away and yanked the hair tie loose. "I'll just do the ends then, if you're so worried."

Ignoring the clicks of disapproval from Rupert, I coated the bottom six inches of my hair until they were as blue as the sky above us. "Perfect! Want me to do yours?"

"No!" Rupert clutched at his bandana, horrified.

"Seriously? Rupert Marx, rebel and rock star, can't handle a little hair dye?" I laughed.

"Hey, my hair is who I am, thanks." He used the end of his shorter ponytail to tell me in a hair-voice, "Keep your blue chemicals to yourself, lady! We are happy the way we are!"

"Hair identity. I get it." I ran my fingers over my hair, combing it back and then proceeding to braid it again. "I've always had long, thick, sandy hair. I don't know who I'd be as a brunette or a redhead."

"You'd be exactly the same. I know birds who change their hair every week - cut, colour, change, repeat - because they're trying to change who they are on the inside, but it don't work like that, do it?"

"Nope. Although, this is fun, being blue for the day."

"Are you feeling less blue today?"

"I am. I had a good week, helped Dad out. Listened to some good music, too."

I had his interest. "Oh weally...?"

"Yup. Odin Caldwell's new album is out. It's terrific!"

"Oi! That guy was my support act in Sydney! Now, he's stealing my thunder in Melbourne?"

I giggled. "Oh, and I listened to this other band, too. The Itchy Bites. I don't know if you've heard of them, but the lead singer is pretty divine."

"He's alright, I guess." Rupert became almost shy, an emotion I didn't see often on him, and one I didn't think the rest of the world might ever see. "What... what did you think of the music?"

"I loved it," I said honestly. "I thought it would be all super rocky, but you have beautiful ballads, and fun, lighter stuff too. I've had it on repeat all week – especially the acoustic album."

"That's your favourite? Mine too! It was my last release, a commercial disaster, bombed out on the charts. If albums were people, that one was a Britney, shaving its head and attacking people with umbrellas. The reason I had to do this last tour was to try and salvage the band's reputation, but I don't regret doing it. Those songs were what I needed to write at the time."

"Ha. Funny that I fell in love with your failed album."

"Not funny. Apt."

I toyed with the blades on the grass beside my knees and wondered if I should ask. "Hey... Who was she? The girl from the album?"

Rupert's eyes closed for a moment, as if he needed the shield against the painful world of reality. "I love that you don't know. And I will tell you, I swear. Just... Can we just keep having fun for a little while?"

"Of course." I couldn't judge. I was nowhere near ready to tell Rupert about Cody and my messed up relationship track record; who was I to demand him to spill? I laced my fingers through his and said, "Whenever you're ready."

"What if when you're ready to tell me yours, I'll be ready to tell you mine?"

His eyes seared into me, knowing. I glanced away, realising that for all his silliness and antics, Rupert was incredibly perceptive. In one sentence, he'd revealed he knew I had secrets too – the beauty of his personality was that he didn't push it. I nodded. "Deal."