by Nicola Haken
Take the guy standing in front of me in the queue. He reached into the back of his pants, adjusted his underwear and then started scratching his arse. Now you’ve gotta remember, when you’re in a permanent sitting down position, that means your eyes are butt level with everyone else. As usual, I just looked away and let him and his itch enjoy their special moment together.
Until I heard the nauseating sound of his fingernails grazing his arse hair…
“Want me to help you out with that seeing as I’m down here?”
I’ve never seen anything move so fast as when he whipped his hand from his pants. Think Edward Cullen on amphetamines. However, unlike my favourite vampire, there was nothing pale about this man. I swear you could’ve fried eggs on his cheeks when he turned around and saw me.
Mission accomplished.
Either from impatience or embarrassment, the man with the itchy arse weaved his way out of the queue and left, making room for me to get past in the process.
My next class covered the outline for an oil-painting project we’ve got coming up. This was the first time I’d ever yawned my way through a class. I was bored shitless and had zero interest in anything to do with the degree I so desperately wanted to gain. Instead, all my mind seemed to want to think about was Jared. The way his green eyes sparkle in the daylight, the way he styles his blonde hair so it’s perfectly scruffy, the way his arse cheeks flex when he’s walking…
Dear God this man is taking over my life. I’m either in for a wonderful ride… or I’m totally screwed. On the plus side, I’m going to have fun finding out.
“So I was thinking,” Holly said once we were settled on the bus heading for The Brunswick shopping centre. She’d had to leave her car in the centre car park after being blocked in by an anonymous arsehole when she nipped into work earlier, so we were going to pick it up when we’d finished shopping. “We should get you pampered for your man,” she added with a wink. Why didn’t I like the sound of that? “You know, get you waxed and stuff.” That’s why.
“No one except Jared is smoothing anything hot and sticky on my hoohaa,” I said firmly.
“T. M. I.”
“Seriously though, why the hell would I want someone I’ve never met before to rip hairs out of my ugly place? Not gonna happen, Hols. Not. Gonna. Happen.”
“Well at least let me give you a makeover.” Her voice had turned all pleading and childlike. Well that might work on her daddy but it wasn’t about to work on me.
“No way. I think you’re beautiful, Hols… but I would die before I’d let you plaster my lips in that pink shit,” I grumbled, nodding towards her shimmering lips.
“Fine. But I’m doing your hair,” she insisted. “And don’t blame me when Jared dumps you for being too hairy.”
“I am not too hairy! I… shave the essentials,” I whispered the last part. “Jesus, I’m not discussing this anymore. We’re on a bloody bus!”
Holly dragged me round what must have been six-hundred different clothes shops. Okay so I might be exaggerating slightly but the ache in my arms made it feel like that many, and I made a vow to myself that I would never attempt shopping with Holly again until I’d invested in a motorised chair.
I hadn’t set out to buy clothes but ended up coming away with a vintage dress with black sparrows printed on it, a new pair of distressed jeans and a neon yellow off-the-shoulder jumper. Somehow a new lip stud with a ruby gem also found its way into my possession too. I might not be able to afford anything more elaborate than toast for dinner tomorrow, but hey, it’ll match my new hair.
Holly treated my chair like her own personal shopping trolley and by the time we were in the hair dye aisle in Boots, my handles were overloaded with plastic and paper bags. I eyed the row of boxed dyes up and down until I found the selection of reds. I subconsciously skipped over the coppers and auburns and went straight for the kill. I wanted red. Not a hint of red. Not a reddy-brown. RED. Think London buses and postboxes…
“I wish I had your balls,” Holly muttered. “You’re going to look great. Come on, let’s get you home and make you look fabulous!”
“You saying I look like crap now?”
“Stop fishing for compliments. Come on.”
I followed Holly out of the shop (after stopping to pay obviously) and I swear my arms wanted to commit suicide by the time I’d finished hauling not only my arse but three new wardrobes for Holly around. We stopped at the McDonalds Drive Thru on the way home and I delved straight into my Chicken and Bacon Wrap, wolfing the lot – fries and all – by the time we pulled up outside my flat.
I’d not even taken my jacket off before Holly was waving the boxes of hair dye in my face. Laughing at her, I took myself into the bathroom and swapped my jumper for a towel around my neck – fitting in a sneaky smoke while I was there. Holly is one of those annoying anti-smokers, so I’d held off as long as I could. Usually I’d bleach my previous colour out first but seeing as it was a pretty faded shade of pink I went straight for the dye this time.
“Seriously how has your hair not fallen out yet?” Holly asked jokily while combing my hair into sections.
“Fifteen quid a bottle conditioner, that’s how.”
Holly started squeezing the dye along my roots and I shuddered as the cool cream began spreading across my scalp. After using her gloved finger to smooth the mixture over my hairline, she bust open the second box and began applying it to my ends.
“It’s already starting to take,” she noted. “You’re going to look so great.” I wished I had a mirror nearby but had to settle for taking her word for it. When she’d finished she went through to the bathroom to remove her plastic gloves and wash her hands. I pulled out my Kindle but was distracted by my phone ringing before the screen had finished unlocking.
“Hey, Mum,” I answered after seeing her name flash up on the display – holding the phone away from my ear and the wet dye.
“Hey, sweetheart,” my mum greeted. Her voice was timid – wobbling slightly. “I have some bad news about your dad.”
Oh shit…
“What is it? Is he okay? What’s-”
“Oh no, no, no… it’s nothing like that,” she assured. I swallowed my heart back down and waited for her to continue. “He’s been made redundant. He’s looking for something else but in the meantime things are going to be a little short. We’ve been working some things out and my wages will continue to cover your study fees but-”
“It’s okay, Mum. I know where this is going.”
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. It means we’re going to have to reduce your weekly allowance for a while.”
“Please don’t be sorry. I’m so grateful to you both for everything you’ve done for me – you know I am. But I’m a big girl and I should really have looked into a job before now anyway. I’ve been taking you for granted.”
“Oh no, there’s no need for that.” Here we go. “You know you’re entitled to DLA, sweetheart. Please consider applying for-”
“I don’t want to live on benefits, Mum,” I snapped a little harsher than I meant to. But in my defence, this wasn’t the first time we’d had this conversation… or second, third or probably even fourth. “I will work like everyone else.”
“Oh, Rachel, I wish you would just accept that you’re not everyone else.” ‘Cause I’m ‘special’ right? “You’re special.” There you go… “You might struggle in the workplace. I don’t think you realise how tough it can be. And the truth is not everywhere is equipped for people with your needs.”
Holly came back in the room in that moment and mouthed ‘who’s that?’ with a concerned expression – probably after noticing the scowl on my face. ‘My mum’ I mouthed back.
“Mum, I know you worry about me but I know what I can and can’t do. I’m pretty sure it will be obvious to an employer too,” I grumbled. “Look, Mum, I have to go. I’ve got dye on my hair.”
“Oh, Lord… what colour is it now?”
“Red.”
&n
bsp; “And I assume not a nice, natural red?”
“You assume right,” I agreed with a small chuckle. “I’ll call you at weekend. Give my love to Dad.”
“Of course, sweetheart. Are we friends?” I rolled my eyes. She always feels the need to make sure I don’t hate her whenever she’s expressed an opinion I disagree with.
“You know we are. I love you, you daft old mare.”
“Less of the old! Bye, sweetheart. I love you too.” Just as I opened my mouth to say goodbye it seemed she just had to get it in there one last time. “I just worry about you, special girl.” AAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGH! The knowledge that I know she only says these things because she cares so much is the only thing that made me keep that scream internal.
After finally getting my ‘goodbye’ in, I hung up the call and sighed exaggeratedly to Holly.
“Mum trouble?” she asked with a grin.
“She’s just overprotective,” I said. “I also need to look for a job.”
“Ooo you should come and work with me!” she beamed. “My boss Claire is hiring.” Holly works weekends at a beauty boutique in Camden Town. Yep, you guessed it – makeup, accessories, lotions and potions and a bunch of women who squeal more than they breathe.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m girly in my own way. I wear dresses and heels and make the effort with my hair… I just don’t feel the need to wiggle giant pom poms with every smile.
“I’ll think about it,” I blatantly lied. “Is this ready yet?” I purposely changed the subject, pointing up to my head.
“Another five minutes. Where’s your hairdryer? I’ll get everything ready while we wait.”
“Chest of drawers in my room. Take out whatever you want.”
Holly disappeared again so once again I picked up my Kindle, only to be interrupted yet a-bloody-gain. This time it was the sound of something being posted through my letterbox.
“I will spend time with you later, Woods,” I whispered to my Kindle – kissing the screen before putting it back on the table. Then, after turning around I noticed a small white envelope hanging in the wire basket attached to the letterbox. I made my way over and pulled it out. Written on the front was:
Day 1 – your boyfriend x
My heart did a little dance and when I teased open the envelope it felt like an army of tiny mice were playing chase in my belly. Inside was a single, pink rose petal and I tipped it out onto my hand.
“What’s that?” Holly asked, sauntering into the room with a hairdryer tucked under her arm and an array of styling products in her hands.
“It’s a rose petal,” I answered, trying but failing to reign in my smile. “From Jared.”
“A petal?” she asked quizzically. “One petal? Why?” I shrugged because I didn’t know the answer, but I suspected I was about to get a petal for every day since I’d said yes. “It’s kind of cute I suppose,” she added, still looking confused. “You ready to wash the dye off?” I nodded, tucked the petal back in the envelope and made my way to the bathroom, popping it in my handbag on my way past.
“I can do it,” I said to Holly when she followed me into the bathroom rolling her sleeves up.
“I’m doing your hair,” she insisted. What is with everyone wanting to do my hair lately? I felt safe in the knowledge she would do a better job than Jared however, so I did as I was told, leaned forward and bent my head into the shower cubicle.
After wetting my hair (and my face) with the showerhead, lathering, rinsing, repeating, applying conditioner and lathering and rinsing again, I was good to go. We went through to my bedroom and Holly combed through the tangled knots before getting her groove on with my hairdryer.
“It looks amazing,” she beamed, teasing individual strands with hair product. “So bright! You got any nail polish remover for your hairline?” I directed her to the chest of drawers where she found some acetone and cotton pads. She scrubbed the red stains from my skin quickly and then took hold of my chair handles and pushed me towards the mirror.
“Wow. You should do this for a career!” I said, weighing myself up in the oval mirror and flicking my hair from side to side. Oh fuck… I’d just turned into… a prom queen.
“You’re so gonna get some tonight.” Hmm, that was my plan. “Now for makeup. I’ve brought my entire collection.”
“Oooooh no you don’t. I never agreed to you doing my makeup. I’m very particular.”
“Oh come on, Rach. We’re having fun aren’t we?” she said with pleading puppy-dog eyes. I was just about to refuse and then she fluttered her eyelashes at me. Seriously!
“If you make me look like Barbie I’ll cut your tits off and shit in the holes.”
“Seriously, how are we friends?” she joked.
“I have no fucking idea,” I teased back – though it was the absolute truth.
My freezing nipples were knocking on someone’s door in Brazil so I slipped a black hoody over my head before she got started. She did my nails first. Upon my resolute refusal to wear the shade ‘Candy Sparkles’ she agreed to apply the black polish from my bedside table.
Next, she moved on to my face and I found the best way to cope with what was about to happen was to close my eyes. If I couldn’t see the pink lip-gloss I wouldn’t hyperventilate.
Holly told me to open my eyes but it took me a few seconds to summon up the courage and a further few to lift the 6lb of mascara weighing my lids down. I could’ve sworn it took her three weeks and two days to complete but when I looked at the clock it turned out it was only twenty minutes. Be brave, I mentally prepped myself.
“Ta daaaaa!” Holly sang, turning the mirror to face me. Jesus Christ I looked like a TOWIE reject. My skin would make an orange jealous and you couldn’t see my eyes through the mass of black shit pencilled around them. “You like it?”
Are you fucking with me?
“Ummm.”
“You don’t like it,” she muttered dejectedly, slumping her shoulders.
“It’s not that I don’t like it. I mean this look suits you…” Ugh. Why have I always been so shit at sugar-coating? “I just… fuck it I’m sorry, Holly but I look like Barbie on crack.”
“Well I think you look cute. I could start again using your own stuff?”
“No!” I said a little too fervently. “I’m sure it will grow on me. I’m just not used to it, that’s all.” Hmm, maybe I could sugar-coat after all.
“Right, let’s get you dressed up for the man of your dreams.”
Kill me now.
No seriously, God… if you’re listening – just take me.
Like now.
“We need to keep it simple so you don’t clash with your hair.”
Um, God? Hellooooo? Anyone there?
“Saffy?”
Thank you! I’ll start going to church I promise.
Maybe.
“In the bedroom!” I called through to Jared. Holly asked me what ‘saffy’ stood for and I could only shrug because the twat still wouldn’t tell me.
“What the hell happened to your face?” he mocked, snorting at me. Yep, snorting – like an actual pig. “Oh, hey,” he tacked on when he noticed Holly.
“This is Holly – a friend from Uni. Holly, this is Jared – a dipshit from Kensington.”
“Nice to meet you, sugar.” Jared smiled his adorable goofy grin at Holly and she blushed brighter than the shade of red she’d just smeared across my lips.
“Don’t encourage him, Hol. He already thinks he’s God’s gift.”
“So why do you look like you’ve just stepped out of a beauty pageant?” Jared asked.
“Holly gave me a makeover.”
“Oh. Ummm, looks good,” he lied, probably feeling like a giant arse for offending Holly.
“It’s ok,” Holly said. “She’s already told me how much she hates it.” She smiled as she spoke and I saw the tension melt from Jared’s shoulders. “But I think she looks awesome.”
“Course she does. Saffy would look beautiful with her he
ad dipped in shit.” Oh man, he did it again! He made those tickling ripples appear in my belly, making me want to squirm. How the hell does he do it?
“Saffy?” Holly asked again, looking to Jared and raising an eyebrow. “As in saffron?”
Jared’s mouth twisted into a smirk and cocked his head to the side while inhaling a small laugh.
“Exactly like saffron.”
“I don’t get it,” I butted in. “Like the spice?”
Aaaaaand ping!
“Oh I get it. I’m not sweet enough to be your ‘sugar’ eh?”
“Aww that’s so cute,” Holly cooed.
“Cute? He’s saying I’m bitter!” I snapped. I wasn’t even mad at first but then I saw Jared shaking his head and laughing at me and I wished I had the power in my legs to get up and kick him in the balls.
“No he’s not. It’s only bitter if you use too much. It actually has quite a sweet aftertaste,” Holly interrupted. Whose friend was she here? “And did you know it’s the most expensive spice in the world?” Okay so maybe that is kind of cute.
“I didn’t know you were a walking encyclopaedia, Hol.”
“My brother’s a chef,” she said shrugging. “I’d best get going. Leave you two to hash it out in private.”
“There’ll be no hashing,” Jared said confidently, that beautiful, annoying-as-hell grin of his creeping across his face. “The second I let her kiss me she’ll forget she was ever mad at me.”
“Let me kiss you?” I retorted, straightening my back.
“I’m out of here,” Holly announced, giggling. “I’ll call you later, Rach. That’s if this Cezanne assignment doesn’t kill me first.”
After gathering up her makeup and stuffing it in the record-bag she takes everywhere with her, Holly left Jared and I to it. I was still pouting when I heard the front door close behind her. If I’m honest, it wasn’t the nickname pissing me off – it was the fact I hadn’t guessed it by myself.
