Novel & Cerita Fluffy Hair Guys

He goes to grab me, and my beast jumps, kicking off his chest and flipping back away from him in front of my pack. I look at all the guys as my beast relaxes, giving me back my control. One has blood all over the front of his shirt from his nose, which is now healed. His hair hangs loose with curls down to his midsection. One has dirt and ash all over the front of his shirt. His hair is shorter all around but is slightly longer on top; it is neatly styled to be a little messy. The third has buzzed sides fading up to hair that is spiked up messily, but it suits him. The last one stands with a perfect pearly white smile, and I lock eyes with him. The sides of his hair are short, and the top is

I sighed. "Yo! care if I join you guys?". I looked over and saw a couple of guys approaching us. Both were pretty cool, I guess? One fellow looked straight at me with a wry smile. However, the most eye-catching feature worth noticing is his spiky, fiery reddish-orange hair. Wow, that must be a very nasty paint job. The other guy was simple and plain, though a bit nervous and submissive-looking. He looked at me with a nervous smile. His head kind of reminded me of a mushroom growing in every wrong way possible.

As I got meet up with Hino, I saw him waiting for me at the cafe we agreed to meet up at. "Hey dude!" He greeted. I sat on the chair at the other side of his table. "You know, I'm still not used to seeing you with that haircut. It suits you though." "Thanks. Although this won't last long. I'm definitely going to grow it out again." He touches his hair, unsatisfied with its length. "Long hair makes you look like a girl. Well, it's just your face that's girly."

“And get rid of your blond hair. White guys are about as foreign as Kleenex.” “You're just jealous you didn't inherit mom's locks,” he teased, running his fingers through his curls and grinning rakishly. “I could pass as a Swedish exchange student. It's why I get all the ladies.” “And why you have the brain of a potato.” “That's only if you're a chick. If you're a man, it means you're a stud. Like Apollo, or David Beckham.”

I couldn't help the smile that remained on his face which also made me smile. “Can I ask you?” “Yes.” “Why do you love long hair?” I kept my eyes on him in the mirror. Something flashed in his eyes like he remembered something, but he maintained the smile. “I don't know, I had it to hide my identity. You know, everyone expects rich men to have decent hairstyles but not long hair that I sometimes keep in a badass ponytail.” I laughed. “A low ponytail doesn't make you a badass.” “For men, it feels like it.” he chuckled. “Do you love it long?”

He looked at me oddly with a perfectly raised eyebrow. "What?" "It means tell me what you want to say to me" I smiled a little at how confused he looked. God I hope he didn't see that. He only chuckled a little. "Right" a raised his hand and scratched his hands awkwardly. The one thing that was physically unique about Dili was his hair, it got girls fawning over him. I mean with the jet midnight color and silky looking texture, I'm not surprised that girls worship the ground he walks. He's hair was naturally full but was slightly cut flat by the sides giving him a black American look.

The headlights blinked softly when Flynn opened the door and headed to reach the passenger's side before I got close enough for him to see me. Flynn was spectacular that night. Although I didn't use the social that I was so used to seeing in my work schedule and much less sporting that hair stuck in a bun and very well combed and without needing the use of the gel "as the guys usually did. The gray shirt and jeans gave it the appearance of simplicity, combined with natural charm. And the blond hair loose to the shoulders, slightly messy, and truly wet, was a spectacle in itself. I fought against the urge to stretch my hand to move away one of the strands of hair that were sliding to his fore

Nothing like the scruffy, carefree Lucas I drank with the other night. “Hi,” he said softly. “Glad you made it.” “Of course I made it,” I replied, clearing my throat. “I had to..” He nodded with clear approval, letting his gaze travel from my head to my toes—slow, observant. “Who did your hair?” Heat crept up my neck as I touched the curled ends nervously. I’d curled them myself, thinking it might help me look more presentable—not because I wanted to impress him, obviously. My hair was always in a messy ponytail; I just wanted a change.

I flipped my hair, my own little way of showing off my charm. "Yes?" I turned to face a man with a classic comb-over—one of those balding middle-aged hairstyles. The in-denial kind. Brushing what little hair he had left to one side, hoping no one would notice. Well... everyone does "I'm a man who supports independent business. I’m glad to share with you that you’re the reason I invested my money," he chuckled, showing off a chipped tooth. For someone who had money, he clearly didn’t spend much on his hygiene.