French Braid Novels & Stories

Our wolves wanted to make a good first impression. “Give me five minutes!” I call down to Ollie as I loop a hair tie around my long French braid. I never wear my hair down, usually pulling it into a long ponytail. But, again, since today is the first day of school, I wanted to put in an extra effort. I had done two long French braids down either side of my head and wanted to curl the front pieces that I had pulled out to frame my face. Problem was, I have an impatient wolf at the foot of the stairs yelling for me to hurry up.

High neckline and long tight sleeves, open shoulders and a big drop-shaped opening on the back, from below my shoulder blades down to the small of my back. “I don’t know if I dare to step out of here wearing this,” I murmured, turning to one side and the other to take a better look at that daring opening. Harry collected my hair gently and held it up. “Like this, in a French braid, to let it fall right in between your shoulder blades where the gap opens.” “He’s gonna kill me bloody.” “He who.” “Your ex.” “You think Brandon will hold his peace?” “He won’t come alone and he can’t put up scene with his blondie there.”

He looks up when I close the door and he moves towards the end of the bed. "I may ruin your hair," he says, obviously trying to brighten his own mood. "Don't worry, I can always get a wig ," I tease and he grins. "Now, do you want to learn one or two braids?" "One for now," he says and I nod before I brush my hair back. When that's done I sit on the ground in between his legs and lean my head back. "This is a French braid so you'll be putting one strand over the other. Oh and you'll be gradually adding more hair to each strand," I tell him.

For as long as I could keep my tongue off it, it looked pretty on me, too. We’d walk if the park was close by, catch the bus if it was farther. A different place every week, rolling on a roster. In quiet times, when the bus wasn’t too full, Momma took the seat behind me so she could put my hair up in a French braid. Separating it into a dozen smooth, straight sections, piece by patient piece. Undoing and redoing each fine weave until she had it just right. Those tight knots sat close against my skull, secured in looping patterns that gave me headaches that stretched out from my temples, long and taut. Like a rubber band noosed around my skull. But the braids k

******* An hour later, I hardly recognized myself in the mirror. The stylists had braided my hair, but it wasn’t a normal braid. They’d divided it into sections, weaving and twisting until the strands spiraled together like ropes of gold and ash. Tiny, clear bands held the pattern in place, while more hair was French-braided around my head. The final braid curved like a crown, framing my face. It had taken all four stylists—and Kiara holding part of my hair at one point—to complete it. It hurt. It pulled. But the end result was hypnotic. The different tones in my hair caught the light, turning it into something alive.

Kylie asks, pointing to my hair. “Yeah, I was wondering if you could braid it really quickly” I say, hopeful. “Yeah, of course. I’ll do a quick easy french braid. Sit on the floor” She says. The braid turned out amazing, even with the short, bumpy drive. The only down side is that some bruises were visible since I didn’t cover anything on my neck, hoping my hair would cover it.

“Prince Derek didn’t say it, and Odette left. Then the monster got her. If you don’t say it, Kiera will go. I don’t want Kiera to go. She has to stay.” “I’ll say it,” I assure her, brushing my hand down her long braid again. I’m getting better at braiding. My skills are nothing near as accomplished as Kiera’s, but I can now manage a passable French braid, a Dutch braid, even a fishtail. “You have to,” she says again, her eyes narrowed at me. “I will,” I repeat, feeling very much like I’m being chastised by my bossy older sister. Thinking of her, I sigh. “Your uncle is an old Danish fart, Frida.”

It was a simple summer dress and would easily make me blend in. Perhaps, it was the style I had put my hair in. It was just a common French braid. There was nothing special about it and it was Hanna who had done it. Or it was my hair itself. I touched the tip of my hair where the braid ended, staring at it.

After running some coconut and hibiscus curl cream through Delilah's hair, she parted her hair and made two french braids. Once she finished Delilah smiled brightly at Brielle. " Thank you Bribri! " She smiled. " You're welcome baby " Giving her forehead a kiss Brielle stood up and walked to the bathroom. " Mr. Burkley might call while I'm in the shower. If he does just tell him I'll call him later "

“You’ll have to sit. You’re too tall for me.” Walking over to the bench, I tossed my hair over the back of it. Haley came around and brushed her fingers through it. It felt nice but it was infinitely better when Zayle ran his fingers through my hair when we were cuddled up in bed. “It’s so soft.” I felt her start to part my hair and braid it from the top of my head. Doing a French braid would bring it up the hair even higher off the ground. She was about to my neck when I felt her hands shaking.