Hardin's POV:
Fuck.
My hair looks so fucking messy and long. I run my fingers into it. And it's greasy too. I should have a hair cut, just a little trim on the ends maybe.
But she likes, no loves, my long curly hair and it will give her more to pull, when we do something. Something? Sex. When we do fucking sex and it would drive me fucking crazy and her too.
I miss her small fingers running through my hair, gently massaging my scalp.
I also miss her braiding my hair, which is really stupid thing to think......
Me and Tessa were sitting on the couch on our apartment and she was in my arms. We were watching Friends. I thought I saw this fucking episode couple of times, but I'm always too busy focusing on Tess's expressions, for me to watch what the hell is happening on the screen.
"Fuck my hair," I groaned, my hair kept blocking my view to watch her face. I tried to kept it behind my ear but there is no fucking used.
"What? What is happening with your hair?" She cocked her head to saw me, what was my fucking hair's problem.
"It keeps fucking interrupting me to see this lame-ass show." I groaned after I tried to kept behind it, again.
She chuckled and moved from my arms to sat up. "Let me do something." She softly requested.
"I tried, but it's not going to stays behind my ears, if you wanted to try that." I explained, doing it again.
"Come here, I have something in my mind." She patted on between her legs.
"What? What you're suggesting, that my face-"
"No you pervert, come sit in the front." She scolded me and patted on the space.
"What are you going to do, pull my hair into a fucking pony hair. I don't have that much long hair."
"You just come here and sit." She grabbed my arm, pulled me to sat between her legs.
"Oh. You're so tall. I can't do, what I intend to do. My hands are not even reaching on the top of your head." She said behind me.
"You can sit on my shoulder and do whatever the hell you aim to do." I chuckled and tapped on my shoulder.
"No way I'm doing that." She swapped her hand on my shoulder.
"Sit down on the floor." She pushed my body to moved away from the couch. I sat down on the ground and she uncrossed her legs and put on my sides of the arms.
"What are you going to do, by the way?" I asked.
"I'm....going to.....braid your hair." She said, combed my hair with her fingers.
"What? No. You're not." I moved my hand up to tried to stop her from braiding but she smacked it and pushed away.
"Don't. Just give me two minutes to do this, please. And then you can watch this lame-ass show without interrupting with me." She made a valid point though.
While she was doing it, I tickled her foot. "Stop. Don't do that." She kicked me on my side of the hips, softly.
"There, it's done." She finally said.
I moved my fingers to felt the hair pattern, I don't had a fucking clue what was it called, but the hairs weren't getting in my face, I don't care about its fucking name. I stood up, sat on the couch and pulled her arm so she can sat on my lap.
"You're a fucking artist." I said, moving her body closer to mine with my hands on her hips.
She was wearing a gym shorts and a black shirt of mine.
I moved my fingers up behind on her ass, moving the fabric up and she took my braided hair and tugged, gently. And it was turned me on in a second.
"Do it again." I gestured her to pulled it, again. But she did gently, like she was doing it on some little kid.
"Baby, harder." I wanted a more than her little pulling game.
But then, she tugged so hard, like she was going to rip my hair from my scalp. "Ah. Ouch." I
shrieked.
"Oh. I'm so sorry. I don't want to pull that harder." She said and pulled away her hand from my hair.
"I thought that you wanted harder so I did-."
"It's okay baby. I wanted harder, but I just didn't expected you to pull like, how a person haul a rope tied on some wild bull's neck." I tried to made her less guilty and she finally smiled.
I placed her body on the couch and hovered over her. "I'm so horny now, with your little tease." I said to her and pulled down my sweats and boxer.
"Me too." She said shyly, pulling down her shorts and panties. I grabbed a condom from my sweat's pocket and rolled down on my cock.
I spread her thighs, moved between them and pushed my cock inside her. Her hand goes to my braided hair and she tugged. "Fuck"
I take a breathe and moved, pulling in and out of her and she tugged again, harder. "Fuck. Baby. You're drive me fucking crazy doing this."
"You like my hair this long, don't you?" I asked pulling in and out of her.
"Yes. I love them. And you Hardin, so much." She declared and we both come undone.
.....
This is what I'm doing. Imagining, our happy moments. Sex moments and whack off my dick, imagining hers.
I can't sleep properly without her. Without her head on my chest and her warmth.
After my fucking graduation ceremony at the fucking WCU, where she left me without even saying a fucking goodbye, I was so fucking angry, pissed off that she didn't even felt like to met me again and say atleast a goodbye, a fucking goodbye hug even, not kiss. Though I needed that more.
I had planned that we'd hung out, have a dinner, even watch a movie, where we can't talk.
I wanted to talk to her, face to face after that two long-ass months, and keep ourselves awake the whole evening, night too, only talking. Me watching her beautiful face, those moving pink pouty lips, her blue-gray eyes lighten up at seeing me and even her nose scrunches.
But it didn't happened. I thought to chased her down, even if I had to go to her mother's house, but the fucking therapist, Dr. Tran, suggested that I should take whatever she is giving me if I want a life with her, even a small fucking one, so I didn't go after her.
That doctor really pisses me off. And his fucking advices.
After that fucking event happened, I moved to Seattle, for some job here in publishing. Though I didn't like the jobs. Sitting in any shitty office, I couldn't envision myself in that.
So after that in between time I get from my interviews, I keep re-reading my life story, and peoples reactions on this, from the group therapy sessions mostly, I decide to do something with it.
Like Luke said, publish this fucked-up story of mine. So I'm typing the manuscripts, apparently the days of bringing in a stack of half-handwritten, half-typed pages are over. I'm going to email each potential house a copy via an agent, and sees where this goes.
And if anyone accepts it, it'd be a grand gesture to my girl, to my love.
Is she going to like it?
I don't know the answer of that, but hope that she does.
Now I am at my fucking apartment alone, in Seattle with a laptop on my hand and a black hot coffee on the table. Whereas she is in the New York with Landon.