Disguises

I guess Tyler and I have officially broken up. We're still being friends, and we hang out more now than before, but I think it is because of the sex. When we fucked, fuck I knew that we weren't going to stay together, and I'm not saying that like the sex was bad. It wasn't. I just couldn't stop thinking about Greyson.

Tyler, Pat, Macy and I managed to all climb into a car and go to the last football game of the season, after a trip to the mall. Macy convinced Pat and I to get hair cuts. Tyler was lucky enough to escape before she even brought it up. Macy told the hair dresser what to do: She didn't want me to fuck it up. My hair isn't all that long any more. It is more of a short, shaggy cut. It isn't short enough to spike, but it isn't down to my shoulders: It barely covers my ears. My bangs remind me of Egyptians (like Cleopatra, if she was a blonde).

Pat, well, he just looks the same, except his hair is shorter (and I mean it is short). I can't tug on his hair: It is that short.

I'm nervous. I don't think I've ever been this nervous.

Greyson's going to hate me. He's going to see me, and he's going to want to never hang out with me again. Why did I let her convince me into doing it? She said I'd look good. I believed her. Well, until I arrived at the football game five minutes ago.

Everyone is staring. Some girl, who was flirting with me earlier this week, let her mouth drop open. She comes over to us and tugs at my hair. "Your hair... Vee, oh, Vee."

I feel like I stole the show. Everyone who came for the game is watching me, instead. Everywhere I go, their eyes follow.

Is it that shocking for everyone because I am wearing normal clothes and have shorter hair? Yes, it is.



I cautiously walked towards the school. Greyson is in there, changing and possibly showering. I am not going to go in. I don't want to seem like a stalker or something.

Tyler and Pat left approximately twenty-five minutes ago, leaving Macy and me to wait and talk with Grey. Of course, Macy only wants to talk to him because she has discovered my crush on him, recently.

Grey is the fourth person out of the school. He's wearing jeans and a loose tee. His hair, still wet from the shower, is dropping water onto his shirt. He spots Macy shortly, and I silently wish I just left and messaged him on Facebook instead.

"Hey, Greyson," She giggles and waves her delicate, little hand in his direction.

He seems caught off guard by her action, but brushes it off when she leaves me alone to talk to him. I don't think he recognizes me. I'm not dressed in drag.

"Grey," I say, building up the courage, "Good game."

"Vee?" He questions, but I ignore it.

I go on, "You won by fifteen points."

"We did." He agrees. "Vee, why did you cut your hair?"

I instantly regret it. I regret letting Macy convince me. I regret coming to the game. I regret staying to congratulate him. I regret not being myself with everyone.

"Macy told me to trust her, and I did."

He smiles, "It looks nice."

I hope he means it in the way I want him to, but I know he's just being a good friend. That tears me up inside.