Chapter 16

I am afraid he might throw it away. Toss it in the closest bin. Little broken girl meets perfect guy. Bound to fall in love. Or at least on my side. But I guess he feels it too, since instead of tossing the brush away, he gently takes a strand of my hair in his hands and starts painting it. I am so frozen I forgot what breathing is. “You know you don’t have to do this”, I whisper. “I’ll probably get detention for using the school’s bathroom as personal hair salon.” He chuckles at that. “Then it’s a good thing I have nothing else planned for today.” And that was that. I turn around to kiss him, and he looks at me proud. He pulls me closer and kisses me again. And as we let go, he gently turns me around and continues painting my hair. He takes his time, carefully brushing it and adding the color. And he stays with me through detention. Holds my hand through it all. Holds my hand as they yell at me at the principal’s office. I didn’t only use their bathroom as a hairdresser’s but also got paint on my cheer uniform. Me. The problem. They gave me a new uniform right away based on my father’s donations. They informed my parents. And he held my hand through it all. He squeezed it to assure me we were together. He kissed it from time to time. The principal asked him what was wrong with him and what made him switch to the dark side. Me. I am the dark side. Justin only looked up at him and smiled. Smiled as his eyes wondered off to me and answered: “I fell in love.”
And as the principal gave us a speech about teenage love and how it is not going to last, we both tuned out. And only stared at each other. And I knew it then and there, that one day I was going to marry this guy. I was going to marry him and have him be a part of my future. My friend through everything. My lover. My protector. The one who makes me laugh and smile. The fighter of my nightmares and my partner-in-crime in hair-cutting in the school’s bathroom. My Justin.

I stare at my engagement ring. I remember the day he proposed. We were twenty, just a few months before the accident. Four, to be exact. We were going to get married that Summer. I cried on my wedding day. I dressed in my white dress and cried on the balcony. Looking at the stars. Hoping he was looking at me too. I read out my vow to him that night. I stared at the stars and took out the little card I wrote my vow on. Then read:
“Dear Justin, I don’t think dear is a word enough to describe what you mean to me. Probably the person who wrote the first letter and wrote dear next to that name never was in love. Or was and didn’t write that letter to the loved one. Or maybe they just didn’t have our type of love. I still remember the first time we met. That moment you came to me and asked me if I was alright. And told me no one should cry alone. I didn’t believe you then. I was so used to crying alone, crying with you felt like a dream. When crying in itself should be a nightmare. But you made me feel less lonely. Protected. Safe. You made me feel more with time. And from this random guy who told me I shouldn’t cry without someone next to me, you started feeling like home. You are my home, Justin. Every date we’ve ever been on felt like a dream. Talking about them will take ages and I’m sure the guests at this wedding will want to go party soon and not spend their entire time sitting here, listening to me telling you how much I love you.