Chapter 33
Nico
Iraise my eyebrows, perplexed at her surprise.
I always worry about how jittery Ariana is. There are still times the omega gets that faraway look, but they’ve been growing less frequent. She has a tendency to frown while using her phone, I’ve noticed. Mentally filing it away to ask about later, I return to my previous interest.
“I was just wondering,” I repeat patiently, “if that’s your natural hair color.”
Ariana’s hand snaps to the side of her temple, expression mildly horrified. “Why, are my roots showing?”
Puzzled at her response, my eyebrows rise higher. “Huh? I was asking because I used to be blond too. A long time ago,” I explain, “as a child. It got darker as I got older.”
She sets her phone on the table, drumming her fingers against the case. “No. I’m naturally a brunette. One of my scent matches suggested it.”
Sensing there’s more she wants to say, I don’t speak. Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on the table so she can see she has my full attention.
The omega sighs, eyes fixing on something past me. “Except it wasn’t really a suggestion. He told me he liked blondes, and there was an appointment made for me a little later.”
“Just like that? No one asked if you wanted to dye it?”
She shrugs. “Liam wanted a blonde omega, so he was going to have one. We went to visit his parents, and I saw his old bedroom. All the posters on the walls were blondes. I thought it was endearing, at first. Like a childhood crush.”
Straining, I try to remember her pack the night we had dinner together. Gnat one, two, and three, I think Sebastian or Evan had called them later. Flashbacks of Liam’s hands on her shoulders, pressing down onto her like a doll pop into my mind.
“At first. What about later?” I clasp my hands together on the table to prevent her from seeing them clench into fists.
“He loved it. Until it grew out and my roots started showing. It was like he couldn’t stand the reminder that there was another color under there. It’s stupid, but it felt like he, I don’t know, detested my natural self in a way. Over dramatic, right?”
“Not at all.” I frown, thinking of what our pack would have done if one of us tried to pull a stunt like that. “And your pack lead was fine with that?”
“Fine with it? Who do you think set the precedent? First it was Ian, deciding I had to grow it out so I would be more ladylike. Befitting the pack, as he would say. He wasn’t going to stop Liam from snapping at me over some hair.
And Cole, well. He would have just told me they wanted the best for me. ”
“They were the alphas and I’m the omega, so I thought, alright. I’m supposed to listen to them. Then their second omega, Amy, came around. And she looked every bit like the posters in his room naturally. Her hair wasn’t fried or thinned from the bleach like mine. Liam couldn’t get enough of it.”
“I wanted to rip out every strand after that. But I didn’t.
Just like I didn’t ever ask the hairdresser for more than a trim or protest the dye.
It’s stupid, it’s just hair, right? It’s a dumb thing to be sensitive about.
But that’s the thing. It’s just hair, so why couldn’t I listen to what they wanted?
It’s not like it was a big deal, according to them. ”
“And I thought it wasn’t worth the fallout of not doing what they wanted. But if it was just hair, why couldn’t they let me wear it how I wanted?” Adjusting in her seat, she meets my eyes. “It was growing out of my head, but it didn’t feel like my own hair belonged to me.”
No wonder we thought she felt like a doll.
The Hale pack was treating her as one, instead of as a person.
I think back to her insistence on returning to them despite all our offers.
If she’d been stripped of autonomy to that extent, it’s no wonder she couldn’t consider leaving, even without taking their bond into account.
“I’m sorry.” Regretful, I apologize. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”
She smiles at me softly. “It’s okay. You didn’t know. I’m sorry for launching into a whole story when you only wanted to know about my hair color.”
“You can always talk to us about that, you know that.” I’ll never tire of being a shoulder for her to lean on. “And for what it’s worth, I think you’d look beautiful whether blonde or brunette.”
Ariana holds the end of her braid between her fingers, studying the strands. “You think so?”
An hour later, we’ve dragged a chair into the bathroom. It’s turned sideways, so the omega perched on it can look into the mirror. I stand behind her, staring at her hair worriedly. The scissors in my hand feel unnaturally heavy.
Ariana pulls her ponytail forward, holding two joined fingers on it, right at her chest. “About here is good.”
Gulping nervously, I mentally prepare myself. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” She looks much more confident than I do. There’s an air of determination in Ariana’s chamomile scent.
Pinching her ponytail at the spot she’d indicated, I take a deep breath. Muttering a small prayer, I make the first cut. Blonde strands fall onto the bathroom tiles.
The scissors slide through the hair like butter. What I can only assume is years of hair growth are gone in an instant. It took us longer to stop by the department store and pick a box of dye.
Ariana reaches back, pulling her hair open. Shaking her shoulders, she collects and pulls the hair to the front, examining her new haircut.
“Wow,” she examines her reflection. Her eyes meet mine in the mirror. “This is terrible.”
An understatement. Trusting me to cut it was a mistake. One side is significantly shorter than the other. Each side has uneven chunks, though it seemed to me like I was moving the scissors in a straight line.
My stomach sinks. Ruining Ariana’s faith in me is the last thing I want. Especially after everything she’s been through.
Preparing my apologies, I look at her through the mirror, ashamed of myself. She opens her mouth again, and I brace myself for her next words.
Only she doesn’t speak at all. Laughter bubbles out of her, a soft giggle at first that turns into her clutching at her stomach, doubling over on the chair.
“How did you even manage that?” She sees her reflection and starts giggling all over again, breathless. “It looks worse than when I gave myself bangs off some internet tutorial as a kid. And those were criminally bad.”
“I’m so sorry. Sorry doesn’t begin to cut it. Don’t worry, one of my cousins is a hairdresser. We can find a way to salvage this, surely.”
Standing, Ariana inches closer to the mirror, studying her reflection up close. “I think I love it.” She turns to me, grinning. “I can’t remember the last time I was allowed to have a shitty haircut. This is amazing, thank you.” Whipping the hair from side to side, she seems pleased.
“You’re welcome?” Vaguely confused by her reaction, the words don’t register at first. Allowed to. Right, the Hale pack. Understanding dawns on me belatedly.
To Ariana, unallowed to even pick her own hair length, this might be her first taste of rebellion. My lips curl up, her joy infectious now that I’m no longer ashamed of my less than stellar work.
“I guess we may as well commit to the disaster then. Want to try dyeing it too?”
Parking herself back into the chair, she catches my eye in the mirror and grins. “Why not?”
The omega grabs the boxes of hair dye, squinting at the instructions on the side. I lean over her shoulder, one hand against the chair. Resting my head against hers, I read them carefully.
“Which one do you think?” She holds both up.
“Ariana, it’s your hair. You decide.”
The not-for-long blonde considers the two colors we’ve grabbed. Holding them up to her roots and comparing, she shakes her right hand. “This one.”
Taking it from her meticulously, I prepare the dye slower than I moved the scissors. I’m resolved to make sure this goes right, at least. Ariana relaxes as I brush the dye on, making sure to cover each strand.
“Sleepy?” I ask, voice accompanied by the sound of plastic gloves rustling with every movement.
Both eyes closed, she hums in response, making me smile. We fall into a comfortable silence, broken only by the sound of the faucet as I wash the dye out. Hair now a chocolate brown, Ariana gives me a nod of approval.
I had been correct in my assumption that she would be charming as a blonde or brunette. My efforts with the dye have paid off. Unfortunately, the contrast between their states only makes the elephant in the room stand out more.
A shriek comes from the nesting room.
“Your hair!”
Oh, good. My backup’s arrived. She marches into the bathroom, shoving past me to peer at Ariana.
“Hello,” Ariana says meekly to the new arrival, looking from her to me.
“Ariana, meet my cousin, Melissa. Mel, meet Ariana, my-”
“Your victim?” Not the words I would have chosen, but Melissa’s already turned away from me. She puts both her hands on Ariana’s shoulders, speaking as if it’s life or death. “Don’t worry, girl. I’ll fix this.”
“My hero,” Ariana replies, visibly biting on her lip to keep from laughing.
The redhead omega’s flying around the bathroom, plugging in a blow dryer and unpacking supplies.
“What should I do?” I ask, offering to help.
Melissa glares at me. “Stand there and think about your actions.”
“Yes ma’am.”
I expected this when I texted her explaining the situation. It was a precaution in the department store, since I didn’t have much faith in my abilities. Unlike me, Melissa is skilled. She’s been obsessed with hair since she was young.
Despite her temper with me, she’s gentle with Ariana, tilting her head and asking about her preferences. When the freshly brunette omega hesitates or seems confused, she pulls out her phone and shows her reference photos.
“Don’t worry, Ariana. You’re in good hands.” I assure her when they’ve settled on a style. “She’s been a hairstylist for celebrities.”
“Really? That’s cool.”
The redhead doesn’t look up, snipping away at hair. “Sometimes. Bridal’s where the real money is.”