Pink Highlights In Red Hair Mga Nobela at Kwento

and I can't help myself from smiling in confusion. Why did she say I look sexy in red? I ponder on the girl's weird sentence before finally, I get it—when I met Raven for the first time in my human form, I told her, "I think red is your color—it looks sexy on you." My lips part, and in haste, I lift my attention to the pink-haired girl, who smiles at me from her seat. She is twirling a feather between two digits—orange and red—the same color I saw in my dream.

Even though her scent mixes with others, she smells divine. I stand behind her, demanding she will let me wash her, and she agrees, knowing that I might let her in one secret or another. Her dark hair is wet lying on her back, but as I wash her hair, I can see color following the water slowly down to the floor. It's dyed. Her hair is dyed, I realize. I can see small parts of red shine through, and I know that she is probably a read head. Oh, I love redheads. I wash her body, making sure every part of her is clean from that scent, and then I continue with her hair. Her long beautiful hair.

I guess it wouldn't hurt as long as she promised not to bite me again. "Okay, as long as you don't bite me again without my permission... I guess we can be friends." I tried to smile at her, but it was more of a sideways grin. Half smile, half frown. I walked to the front of the room, and turned to introduce myself. I was right. Me and the pink haired girl were the only ones with weird colors. Everyone one else had shades of black, red, brown, and blonde hair. There were different skin colored kids. It was a mixture of all the world's colors. We didn't specify race anymore, but we did say a person's skin was white, brown, black, yellow, pale, and etc.

They were attired differently; some of them were in an elaborate evening gown, a number of them were wearing jeans with a cute top, a few of the group were also in shorts and a t-shirt, but almost everyone was dressed in striking colors. Marie was dressed in a knee-length, dusty pink dress which had a small slit on one side. It was an A-line dress and had a boat neck at shoulder level. The fall of the dress was pretty natural, and she looked stunning the way that she was carrying her dress with the perfect hairstyle, and she was wearing just the right amount of make-up unlike a lot of others who had applied everything in excess on their faces that made them look a little scary.

My head was still aching from the one of last night's. "Belle and I made breakfast. Won't you come down and have brea--" "No." She opened her mouth to say something but closed it when she saw the look on my face. Without saying another word, she sauntered closer to me and dipped on the bed beside my head. She took out her hand and moved a few strands of hair from my face. "I missed your brown hair with red strands. Natural red strands." "You'd have to get used to the fact that you won't stop seeing different colors of hair on my head now," when she shot me a confused look, I chuckled. "I'm planning on dyeing my hair pink."

And they said that my grandmother would have wanted me to enjoy my day and forget about the nightmares in the past. "Bella? Are you done fixing yourself?" I heard Ayla's voice from outside our room "Just a minute!" I half yelled. I looked at the mirror and observed my reflection. I have middle-length auburn hair, a pointy nose, and brown eyes. Grandma Esmey said that I look a lot like my mother but my round brown eyes are inherited from my father. It's just painful that I lost them at an early age and I don't even have a single photo of them.

“That’s like saying pink isn’t its own color.” “Well...” she trails, and the boy gasps. “Pink is its own independent color!” He defends. “How dare you imply otherwise!” “What?” she shrugs, insisting that she hadn’t done nothing wrong. “Pink is just a variant of red. A lighter version.” The boy gapes, feigning deep offense as he shakes his head, those dramatics of his coming to the surface. “Wow!” He complains. “You know what? I’m done with this conversation. Clearly you’re blind and have bad taste. I can’t be seen associating with someone like you.”

Harmonia intervened naturally. Maria nodded repeatedly. Harmonia then looked at Monica and asked, “Monica, what did you want to show me?” Monica regained her composure and swiped on Monica’s tablet immediately. “Monia, which of these hair colors do you think looks the best? Can you help me decide?” Harmonia took a look. Red, yellow, purple, green, blue, and gray, were all mixed together. At first glance, it looked like the ‘emo goth’ style.

His gaze flickered to my hair, and then he asked, "Have you always had black hair?" I nodded. "Yeah, I’ve never dyed it before." "Red would look great on you." I raised a brow. "So I can look like Melisandre for you?” He snickered, shaking his head. "That wasn’t my intention." He studied me for a second longer before saying, "I just think red would highlight your bold and feisty side." I let out a small laugh but didn’t respond. I liked my natural hair color and had no plans to change it.

In perfect counterpoint to his anger, his already brilliant red hair went from hot to flaming - literally. .