‘Well?’
‘Well what?’
He – well, she, turned back to the mirror.
‘Well waddaya think what?’
‘You’re hot.’
She frowned. ‘That all?’
‘That’s what I think.’ I said.
She did not look at all satisfied. Pouting somewhat, she tried to do something with her haystack of a hairstyle, but there wasn’t anything seeming to come of it.
‘There’re some hairpins in the bag somewhere.’ I told her. She began rattling with the contents of the bag, until she found the hairpins. First she put them into her mouth, then suddenly changing her mind she laid them aside and turned back to me. ‘Why do you have any hairpins anyways?’
‘I bought them for you.’
‘Liar.’ She declared without a moment’s hesitation.
That was her. That was why I fell in love with him in the first place, and loved her still.
‘They were my girlfriend’s’
She did not comment immediately. Only a few seconds later, pretending to be incredibly preoccupied with her hair, she asked.
‘Was She hot?’
I smiled. ‘I wasn’t in love with her.’
She threw a disdainful glance at me. ‘I wasn’t asking that.’
‘She was. She was very hot… But she wasn’t you.’
‘You know you’ll be personally buying all my hairpins from now on.’ She said. I knew. She finally gave up on her hair – let it fall onto her shoulders and her back in an exotic, niagaraish manner, and climbed on the bed beside me. There was silence in the hotel room for a while.
‘So’ I asked ‘Are you feeling all right?’
She looked at me. ‘We’ll see.’ She said finally. She ran her petite hand along my stomach, up and down again. ‘But… But I really think I am.’
I kissed her. Long and hard.
And, for the first time, she kissed me back.