Orange is Not My ColorMature

“Holy crap Nattie.” I mustered. “You’re hair…”

She kissed me on the cheek and released her grip. The air returned to my body. “I know.” She playfully tossed the auburn locks that gracefully floated back down around her shoulders. “It looks something fierce right?” I don’t think I’d seen anything close to her natural hair color atop her head since we were in middle school. It was currently the only thing about her that actually resembled the real Natalie at all, and I was surprised at how pleased I was to see it.

“You look…” My voice drifted off and Jason shot me a look. “…fantastic.” It was an adequate recovery, and besides, Natalie was never the most astute of human beings. She already knew she looked fantastic.

“Thanks! I know.” She shrilled. “And you look…”

“I know.” I smirked modestly, looking down at the torn-up capris that covered my chicken legs. “Luckily there wasn’t enough time for them to stick me in one of those jumpsuits. Orange is not my color.”

“As we all sadly discovered that one Halloween when you were seven and went Trick-or-Treating as a pumpkin.”

I stuck my tongue out impishly. “You’ll never let me live that down.”

Her eyebrows raised just a hair further into her forehead as her pupils darted around the lobby. “Obviously, you’re a slow learner.” Her hands placed themselves upon her hips in a way that reminded me of Charro from the Loveboat. “Seeing as how you’ve made your way to a place where you’d have no other option than to wear a monotone one-sie for the rest of your life. Then again…” she looked me up and down, “maybe you’d benefit from someone having to tell you what to wear.” Her duck-lips stuck themselves out to an inhuman length. I could see now that the lipstick didn’t even cover them wholly.

Wow. Still a dumb bitch I see? Shocking. “You really haven’t changed at all, have you?” I do not like being insulted, even if the slur possessed some type of merit. My accuser really had no room to talk anyhow, seeing as how she couldn’t even properly apply her own makeup. I suppose I did owe her for springing me out of jail.

“And you’re still stuck in the same clothes you crashed the prom in.”

Okay, now you’re asking for it. Prom was not a good night for me.

Jason was aware of this and tried to intervene before hair and weave went flying. “Now, now you two. Play nice. I shouldn’t have to remind you that we are in a police station here.” His smooth voice did nothing to soothe the slandered fission in my atrium. Natalie was already stepping over the line and we’d only been together for all of thirty seconds.

The End

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