𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐑𝐄𝐃

𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝

poc!

"can i help?"

"you want to help me french braid my hair?" i raise a questioning eyebrow at vinnie.

"sí mi amor, quiero ayudarte a trenzar tu cabello," he chuckles.

having 4c hair and coming from a hispanic mom and an african american dad made me realize that most white boys couldn't care less about my wild mane. so, it was second nature to just not ask for help at this point.

i squint at him, kissing my teeth, "estas loco."

"rude," he pouts. he walks towards my kneeling figure, bending down and grabbing my jaw softly before pecking my lips. "tell me what to do, baby."

"pick up the pattern brush," i sigh softly after a few moments. vinnie smiles like a happy puppy, bouncing around me to grab my brush and then pull our bed bench closer to him so he can sit.

"i'm gonna section my hair, i just need you to brush it out, okay?" he nods firmly, saluting me like a dork. i snicker, shaking my head.

i lean closer to the full-length mirror in front of me, placing the end of my rat tail comb roughly to the center of my forehead before pushing back and going through my damp hair. the metal is cold against my scalp, but surely nothing different from the past eighteen years i've gone through this. i gently pull apart a few knotted tots of curly hair before going back in to even out the part.

with the pale of my scalp clear as day in the mirror, i drop the comb in front of me and settle back on my knees.

"you can brush now."

he cautiously takes the left part of my hair, starting at the back and carefully brushing the plastic bristles through my tangles.

i reach for my phone, sliding it open and scrolling aimlessly through my feed while i enjoy the feeling of doing practically nothing. i take a few videos, admiring the way vinnie's tongue sticks slightly out of his mouth when he concentrates on a violent tangle.

"ah!" i yelp, hand flying to the back of my head. "be gentle, imbécil!"

"lo siento, mi querida," he winces, kissing the back of my head before focusing back on my hair. i glare at him through the mirror. "relax, y/n. i can feel those pretty eyes glaring daggers at me."

"good," i grumble, returning to my phone.

he slowly and carefully works his way up the rest of the left part, picking loose hairs from the brush along the way, before moving on to the right side.

"all done," he smiles.

"thank you, vincent."

"ew, don't use my full name," he grimaces. i giggle, beginning to section to pieces of hair to braid. "wait, i wanna braid it."

i'd taught vinnie how to braid his own hair a while ago, for when he was away in seattle or some other reason. he liked keeping his hair out of his face most of the time, but hour hair types were very different.

"vinnie..."

"please," he frowns. "just let me try, i promise i'll do good."

my hair is my pride and joy, heat only comes around it five times a year, tops. i haven't had a perm since i was eleven and the kids in middle bullied me because i looked different. nobody touches my hair unless it's me, my dad, my mom, or my aunts. this is one big ass step in our relationship, even if vinnie doesn't know it.

"okay," i say warily. "just be careful, please?"

"i'll be the most careful person you've ever met."

his fingers running through my hair feel nice as he begins to braid. one piece over another, again and again until he sees something that doesn't quite look good enough and undoes it just a bit.

"turn your head, baby," he instructs. i do as i'm told, turning my head to the side and counting the posters on the wall.

i'm starting to remember why i like doing my hair myself. though having someone else do it for you is amazing, sitting there and doing nothing makes you feel so useless. i move my eyes to sneak and peek in the mirror, but vinnie pushes my face back to the side.

"keep it there," he scolds.

my mouth falls agape, "you sound like my mother!"

"good, she's a very lovely woman," he giggles, continuing with my hair. he finishes the first side soon after, going on to the right and repeating the same process until it all looks just right. "yay."

"done?" i question, still looking at the wall.

"done," he nods. i turn to the mirror, inspecting and analyzing my boyfriend's handy work.

what the fuck.

"do you like it?" he gnaws on his bottom lip nervously, waiting impatiently for my response.

i turn to him, smiling like a happy puppy myself. "i love it."

the corners of his mouth twitch up into a charming smile, and he pulls me up from the ground and into his chest. i sigh out a laugh, burying my head in his neck, completely content in this moment.

i don't trust everyone with my hair, i barely trust anyone with it, but vinnie just made that list. and he seems just as happy and proud about it as i am.

—

confessionals 👅 🙇🏾‍♀️,
ain't no white boy finna
help me with my hair 😁