COMPLETED
All 16 year old Avianna Moorson wanted was an easy flight to sandy and beautiful Australia. No talking, no company and no distractions. But what happens, when the person forced to sit next to her leaves her at a loss for words?
"Where can I find them? It doesn't seem like they're breaking down my door anytime soon."
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Hour Eighteen
"Why are you trembling?" Soon Logan was standing behind her, while she sat in front of the mirror.
"I can't go out like this. My hair is throwing a fit, I'm second guessing my outfit and the day's almost done."
His hands cupped her shoulders. "Well I can't do anything about your outfit but---give me a minute."
"What are you going to do?"
"Don't worry. I'm an expert," he grinned. "Now close your eyes. I want it to be a surprise."
She clutched a brush for good measure, in case his plan backfired. She was ready to just blow-dry her hair and call it a day.
"Do you have any bobbypins? I can't do your hair without them."
"Um right here," she scooped them off the marble counter and held it up. "Wait? You're going to do my hair? You?" she pointed a finger.
"Don't knock it till you try it. Besides Av, I'm more than just something to drool over. I'm also good with my hands."
"Whatever you say, "she checked her phone.
"Your hair is so soft and thick. It feels like a pillow. " He parted her hair down the middle and sectioned it off.
"Thanks."
"You are so lucky. It's so...there are no words to describe it. It's amazing. I don't understand why you keep it in a ponytail all the time. I could play in it all day."
She blushed, flattered by his compliments. No one ever complimented her hair--they did the opposite.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Shoot."
"How do you know how to do hair? It seems kinda strange."
"I do my little sisters hair. There's two of them and they don't like to sit still for long. When my mom is braiding one of their heads, the other is bouncing off the walls. So I figured why not help?"
"Look at you challenging gender norms at," she checked her watch while chuckling, "2:30 in the afternoon."
"What can I say, I'm a charmer," he shrugged. "Now what do you think?"
She faced the mirror, her mouth agape. "What did you do?"
"You don't like it?" he scratched his neck.
"I love it!" she touched one of the braids. "This is so beautiful. I love it." She marveled in the mirror, placing silver studs in her ears. "How did y--"
