“Sometimes I wish I had your- OW!”
“Sorry, sorry! You wish you had my what?” Chloe grunts as she tries again.
“Your hair. It’s so nice and smooth, and wavy,” Emma winced as the brush ran into another knot.
“My hair’s thin. I wish I had your volume.” Chloe’s slender form hovers above Emma, all the strength in her lithe body dedicated to pulling the hair brush out of the raven’s mane.
“Just take it out. Hey, I’ve got an idea.” Emma tugs the blonde down to sit beside her, showing her the gallery of photos in her phone. “We should trade hair colours.”
“What? Why?” The frazzled Chloe leaned in, her entire body resting on Emma’s side as she peered at the small screen. Two skinny girls filled up the frame, models apparently, fresh off the runway and boasting a hair colour switcheroo. Most of their strands were dyed, save for the roots, which stood testament to their natural hair colours. She swiped one fair finger across the screen. The next photo was a closeup of the same two girls, their pink pouts smiling as they braved the paparazzi. “Hmm,” The more she looked at the photos, the less insane the idea seemed. Still…
“This doesn’t answer our wishes, though,” Emma raised a brow in question. “I mean, we were talking about trading hair textures, not hair colours.”
“Yes, but this looks like fun!”
They ended up in a small neighbourhood salon five blocks from Emma’s apartment. The hairdresser looked amused when they told her what they wanted, and she helped them pick out the colours. Emma was tempted more than twice to choose something like neon green. Chloe frowned at her, but Emma caught her staring just a little too long at the pastel pink hair swatch. Next time.
The whole procedure took two and a half hours. Chloe spent most of it on her phone, Tweeting and Snapchatting the process. Emma was fidgety, dark hands grabbing every magazine within reach. Her phone was new; she hadn’t had time to install all the apps and games she was used to. Eventually, she zoned out watching Chloe through the mirror – the blonde (going on brunette) girl didn’t even notice until she said something and Emma’d failed to respond.
They stop by a pizza parlour on the way back to Emma’s house. Chloe already took multiple selfies, Instagrams and Snapchats of herself and the two of them together with their new hair colours. Riding the high of multiple positive comments and way too many fire emojis, she was smiling deliriously and stopped at every reflective surface to stare.
“I feel so different,” she marvelled.
“Yeah. I feel like I could do anything now!” She giggled. “Let’s go get drinks after this. We should show off like those two girls in the picture did. A night out on the town! The grand debut- maybe we’ll even bump into some friends,” She finished with a sly smile.
“No way, we’re not going back there. Not after we saw-”
“Shay? C’mon, who cares about your ex? That was two weeks ago, and we look awesome right now. Besides, if she saw us, maybe she’ll even be jealous.”
They end up in a bar in the middle of the city’s art galleries and concert venues. The walls are graffitied, the floor is raw concrete, and the furniture is eclectically mismatched. Half of it seemed like it came from garage sales. Chloe gets a strawberry-flavoured beer. Emma gets a peach mojito. The server is nice and compliments her lightened curls. Shay does not show.
They fall into bed sated and grappling at the last dregs of the adrenaline high, lips locked and dragging against skin. Thick thighs frame slim hips, and fair hands yank on bleached kinks as fingers wander. Emma’s arms wrap around Chloe’s waist as she comes apart in her hands, and she cups Chloe’s face as they slowly kiss, huffs of breathy laughter mingling with contented sighs. Chloe nudges herself into the gap Emma’s provided, between her arm and torso. Sated, they gaze out of the window, at the city lights and stars.
“Today was a good idea.”