I should really stop my mind from wandering before it went too far.
My plan was to sneak back into my room after flushing the toilet and washing my hands, but I found Michelle standing just outside the door, her arms crossed. She did not look too thrilled, seeing me trying to weasel my way out of whatever the hell this was.
“Shower,” she repeated herself, “now. Don’t make me say it again.”
A sigh left me, and I knew it would be easier to just go along with it for now. The last time she’d taken such interest in my looks had been before the blind date with Calum.
Calum…
No, I wasn’t going to let myself think about him.
I shut my mind off as I showered, undoing the rat’s nest that was my hair and, like she’d said, scrubbing every part of my body until I was squeaky clean. When I got out, Michelle was still waiting for me, only now she had something else in her hands.
A tube of pink dye? Why did she suddenly care about my faded hair?
My roots were about an inch long, but she paid no attention to them, instead making a few bowls of pink dye. Three of them—one held straight dye, the other held some dye and some condition, and the last was full of mostly conditioner with a bit of dye.
“What are you doing?” I asked, eyebrows together. She’d made me sit on the toilet, facing the tub to give her the back of my head. A towel was draped around my shoulders to protect my clothes from the dye. She had gloves on, and she was busy drying my hair before parting it and sectioning it off.
I had no idea why my sister was giving me an ombre of pink hair, but I said nothing as she did it. Michelle dyed the top few inches the darkest, purest pink, the middle of each strand with the half and half mixture, and the tips with the lightest.
Apparently my faded mop of hair bothered her? That was a first.
While the dye sat on my head and stained my hair, Michelle plucked my eyebrows. I tried to push her off, because forcing me to do my hair was bad enough, but it didn’t work. She would not leave me alone.
“Just let me pluck your eyebrows, Bree,” she hissed, giving me a frown. “I’m not going to overpluck, so you don’t have to worry about having pencils for eyebrows. You’re in good hands.”
I wasn’t so sure I was in good hands, but I knew, at this point, there was no reason to argue with her. She had me cornered in the bathroom, my head wet with dye, so I might as well sit still and let her act like I was some doll she could practice on.
As I tried not to wince as she went to work on my face, I muttered, “Why are you doing this?”
Michelle hummed out, “You’ll see.”
You’ll see. What the hell did that mean? I really hoped she didn’t think I had any dates planned for tonight. She knew I wasn’t seeing Calum, but I hadn’t told her that I’d broken things off with Mason, too. Then again, I never even yelled at her for texting Mason and making him come over last night.
I just…I just want to move on, not think about it. Was that so bad?
After my eyebrows, it was time to bend over the tub and rinse my hair in cool water. Michelle bent over the tub, running her fingers through my hair as she worked the color out until the water ran clear. She grabbed a towel and helped me up, rubbing it along my messy hair before brushing it and drying it yet again. She did not, however, let me stand in front of the mirror.
Did I look that bad?
I stayed quiet, biting the inside of my cheek as I let her do whatever else it was she wanted to do to me. Once my hair was dry, she straightened it. No outrageous curls tonight, I guess, which was a good thing. I wasn’t sure I could handle a curly head on my own. My natural hair was kinky, but not straight-up curly.
Once my hair was done, Michelle grabbed my wrist and tugged me out of the bathroom and across the hall, into my room. She sat me down on my bed as she started going through my closet. It wasn’t too long before she pulled out a pair of leggings I wore more often than not and an oversized beige sweater.
“Put these on,” she said, a command I could not deny. Mostly because I wanted this, whatever the hell it was, to be over with, and going along with her was just the easiest way. Michelle turned her back to me, but she didn’t leave the room.
I took off the somewhat smelly clothes I wore and changed into the outfit she’d picked out. Not sure what she was doing now—if she wanted me to look like a Barbie doll, she kind of missed the mark. When she dolled me up for that blind date with Calum, I’d hardly looked like myself.
“Sit,” she said, gesturing to my bed once I was done, and I did so, running my palms on my leggings, wondering just what the hell this was about.
Michelle disappeared for only a few moments, retrieving a small makeup bag. She did not plaster my face with makeup as she did before; this time she only focused on my eyes—hiding the black circles beneath and lining them with waterproof eyeliner. Then mascara. No eyeshadow, no blending and contouring. At least she’d learned how to take a step back.
With my makeup done, she went to get my shoes.
