Hate That I Love You

San Francisco was beautiful. The people dressed formally, and the fans dressed to show the passers who they were lining up to see.
I wasn’t allowed to be anywhere near the outside line-up of kids, for news had got around that I was the new hairdresser. Ronnie said the kids would tear me to shreds before I even stepped out the door.
I began with Omar’s hair; he was easy to please, straight and simple. Max next, his hair wasn’t so bad, but a little more complicated than Omar’s. Robert was soon to follow, I had found that Robert and I got along really well, I had only known him for a few hours, but he and I had conversed the most. His hair was most probably the hardest to do. His curls got in every nook and cranny. They filled every space on the hairbrush, and took hours to straighten. I would have appreciated if he was last. He and I spoke for a while, unlike the others, I didn’t speak to them much, a simple ‘hi, how are you?’ and that was it.
“Hey Rory!” Robert beamed, making a special entrance.
“Hey Rob, what are you so happy about?” He sat down in the seat in front on me, preparing himself for me.
“I’m waiting to see what your talented hands do with my hair...” he smiled beneath a bush of hair.
“My talented hands? Where did you hear that from?” I asked, perking an eyebrow.
“Who else? Bryan of course” I paused, Bryan had been suggesting my handy work to the guys?
“Really now?” uncertainly questioned.
“Yeah! You did an amazing job with his hair!” Robert exclaimed, throughing his hands into the air.
“Can you do my hair like his?” he turned to me and asked, battering his eye lashes. I paused and watching him femininely look at me.
“Sure!” I responded.
I acted away on his hair, not cutting, just styling. His curls brushed lightly through the brush, slightly straightening it, leaving it fluffy and light.
“Hey!” he scratched a small spot on his head, where I had previously brushed.
“What!?” I asked, jumping away from the back of his seat.
“You hit a knot!” he crinkled his nose and finished rubbing his head.
“Uh, I’m sorry..”
I continued to style his hair. It turned out better than he asked. His hair was shaped delicately around his small face, the curls barely reaching his shoulders. The mousse, holding his hair in place, lightly gave the hair a brief gloss. He looked good. Next was Ronnie, he wasn’t as fussy as Robert or as easy as Omar. His hair was my favourite. It was thin, dark and easy to style. Just the way I like hair.
“Hey sexy. Do you think you could do my hair?” he asked, sexily. Of course he was being a sleaze but he was only joking.
“Sure Ronnie, that is what I was hired for!”
I rolled my eyes. Ronnie was a funny bloke.
“Oh right…” he blushed.
“Hey! Have you done all the guy’s hairs?” he asked while I started on his hair. I stopped and looked at him in the mirror.
“No, Bryan is the only one left.” I went back to styling his hair.
“You know…. He has a thing for you.” I stopped again and glared at him
“Why does everyone say that?”
“Wait? Who else has said it?” he turned to me. “Max…”
“But… how does he know?” I just stared, my hands on my hips, swinging the straightener around.
“I don’t know… why do you all think this?”
“Think about it Rory, why does he treat you so well?” Ronnie turned back, looking at me in the reflection of the mirror.
“We are friends, Ronnie, Nothing more!”
“Okay, Hey! Watch it! I said straight, not crinkle.”
I stopped, wondering what he was talking about. Low and behold I had forgotten to change the head of the straightener from crinkle to straight. Hell hath no fury like Ronnie angry. And he does get pretty angry.
“Oh, sorry there.” I went over to the trays and switched the head. Returning behind Ronnie and continuing on his hair. He eventually left, smiling and skipping out the door. Not saying thank you, but a smile was enough.
Bryan was the last, his hair was easy.
“…hey” he spoke quietly, keeping his eyes glued to the floor underneath his feet.
“You can look at me… unless I’m completely ugly?” I joked, trying to make him smile. I failed, miserably. He didn’t take his eyes off the ground. He sat down slowly, never glancing in the mirror or anything. “What would you like done?” I asked, rubbing his shoulder lightly.
…He just shrugged
I gripped his shoulder a little tighter, not to tight. I balanced myself on him as I moved the utensil tray out of my way so I could walk up next to him. I crouched next to him and gently rubbed his thigh, hoping this would make him talk.
“What’s up?”
He shook his head
“Bryan?” I shook his leg harder.
Still little or no response. Situations like this make me angry, the fact that people bottle up their emotions yet when someone wants to help them, they build a defense barrier and don’t talk. I do that too sometimes, so I’m being a little hypocritical. “Bryan!” I asked again, louder.
Again, no response.
I got up from my position next to him, caught my breath and waltzed away to cool tension. When I turned back he hadn’t moved a muscle, his eyes were still glued to the floor.
I stormed over, pushing the utensil tray out of the way, spraying its contents all over the lino covered floor and pushed my way in front of Bryan.
He looked up at me.
My hand came down hard, colliding with Bryan’s cheek. The painful sensation spread across my hand, from my palm to my fingers and up my arm. Both hands shot up to my face to cover my mouth in disbelief. I watched Bryan’s cheek turn 3 different shades of red.
“I-I-I’m so sorry…”
His eyes, full of sorrow and sadness, pierced right into my heart, shooting it from its place and loosening it, allowing it to fall into the pit of my stomach and split into thousands of tiny pieces.
How could I hurt him?
I dashed, moving away from Bryan as quickly as possible. I pushed the door open, it flung back, leaving an impression on the wall it collided with. I ran as fast as I could down the hall towards the exit that would lead me out into the car park. I made it quickly to the tour bus.
I crashed into the bus, the door strained on its hinges. Tears were still streaming down my face, allowing my make up to smudge together, making my face a black mess.
“JESUS! Who is that?” came a muffled voice from the toilet room
“Robert is that you?” they asked again I paused, I thought all the guys were in the building, getting ready to play.
“Robert? Max? who is there?”
I quickly wiped my eyes, hearing that they started to move towards the door that separated us. I wanted to rid the evidence before they saw me.
“Its me… Rory” I sniveled, wiping my nose and eyes. They came through the door, and stood in the archway that led into the bunks. It was Ronnie. “What’s up!? You came in here pretty quickly, something up?” he quirked, re-adjusting himself while he approached me.
“Nothing is wrong.” I lied, smiling at him.
“You’ve been crying, Rory, what is wrong?” I looked him in the face, he seemed concerned, he probably was, but how do you come completely attached to someone you hardly know?
“Home sick…” I wiped my nose again with the back of my warm hand.
“Aww, Come here.” Ronnie beckoned me over for a hug.
How could I refuse?
His embrace was warm and loving. His arms spread nicely around my small frame, holding me tightly, but not to tight. With my head against his chest, I could hear his heartbeat, as though it was trying to talk to me. His warmth spread through my body. Eventually he let me go, the warmth disappeared and my sadness came back.
“I have to go, uh… you’ll be alright?” he asked. “Sure…” “Sit down and make yourself at home, we shall be back in a few hours.” Ronnie smiled He picked up a few things and left out the door, leaving me to sit in silence, the boring silence that would never leave you alone.
The killing silence.