Ralph Macchio Hair Novels & Stories

And if she wanted pink hair, she would have pink hair. Another stylist wandered over — a young man with immaculate eyebrows and a shirt unbuttoned one button too far. He looked at me like I was something to eat. "And who is this?" He circled me slowly, eyes roaming. "El, you've been holding out on us." "Hands off, Mario. He's mine." "The good ones always are." Mario sighed dramatically, then brightened. "But look at this hair." He reached toward my head, and I leaned back instinctively. "Oh, don't be shy. Is this natural? This color?"

Harley was never the bratty type who was boastful about her parent’s wealth and neither was her late sister Danica. They were pretty much alike, almost like twins and it was almost impossible for anyone to tell them apart due to their same personality and hair color. But one thing did distinguish them and it was that Harley had as an 1Q of 205 which mean she has never failed a class, Danica had good grades too but she had issues in some subjects and she was the one who always attends annual camp trips not Harley and apparently that last one she went for was her last and any other student at the camp.

She was going over to the studio as there was a photoshoot going on. Ria paused and turned around to face Cathy; the owner of the voice. She was with a pink haired girl. The girl was equally beautiful but not as much as Cathy. Ria scrutinized Cathy. The girl seemed to have a problem with her hair. She had tried countless times to let her know her hair wasn't fake. She inherited the hair color from her grandmother and is very proud of it. She doesn't know why people find it hard to believe silver hairs exists and not everyone bleaches their hair. Atleast she didn't.

It clashed with his neon pink t-shirt, just like he liked it. "You know," Michael started putting on his safety equipment, "you could use a haircut too. It must be a pain tying your hair back all the time." Rayan’s hair was currently tied back in a bun. "It's so hard to find someone who can cut curly hair though, and haircuts are expensive. It’s cheaper to tie it back." "The alphas are going to think you're a lady." "Look who's talking." "This is fashion! My followers dig it!"

If he was, this group could not get any hotter. I stood there looking at them as they conversed among themselves. They had similar builds and similar sharp features. Their hair was all styled differently, though. Jack, who seemed to be the youngest, had the shortest hair, kind of spiky at the top. Marco’s hair was like Damian’s five years ago, and he had beautiful deep green eyes that seemed to have a calming effect. Nick’s hair was long, he styled it into a man-bun.

'Keep going with that and you can say goodbye to your meeting with Ezio. I grinned. 'You know what's strange?' 'You're gonna tell me.' He brushed the foam off my breasts and rubbed my nipples while at it. 'Mmph… Marco… he's not on the list….' Ralph kissed my nape and sniffed hard. 'You smell fucking good…..' 'Ralph, it's fishy….' He chuckled and kissed along my shoulder. 'I wouldn't call it so unless you're a mermaid.' 'No, I mean.' I turned around to face him. 'I need to look into Marco's spendings. He's in advertising, his spendings would make the list right?'

[ S E R A P H I N E ] Michele Serra is a curly-haired lanky guy in his early 30s. Most likely Alfeo's first cousin. They have the same downturned blue eyes. Light brown hair. Well-defined jawline. About the same height, too. Paolo, Fico and the other bodyguards remain standing near the carved wooden doors. They keep glancing around. Like they're all expecting someone uninvited to show up out of nowhere.

Ralph allowed as the door opened and revealed an impeccably well-dressed man. There were only a handful instances in my life that I had been intimidated by the presence of a man, and it was one of those moments when Alessandro Romano walked into the room, donned inexpensive apparel and with his overbearing presence. Until now, I have only seen his photographs and none of them did justice to his well-defined features. His heirs might have inherited his looks, but the sharpness of a seasoned kingpin was all his. “Al, I see you have finally remembered your old friend,” Ralph taunted him playfully as he stopped at the end of the bed; both the hands were tucked inside the pockets of his slacks.

“Give the lady what she wants.” He nodded once, then got to work. The way Raul moved was surgical. Swift, exactly, like he wasn’t just chopping off hair—he was slicing off the past. Watching him, you’d never guess he was part of a crew that had left cities bleeding in its wake. He looked like a small-town barber who offered fatherly advice and cold sodas. When he was done, Alison looked up at me. “Well?” she asked. “How do I look?” I stepped forward, slowly, like seeing someone for the first time. “Different,” I murmured. “But still you.”

I heard his cousin say. Asher groaned. "Get back, Ralph. Don't follow me.” Ralph smirked. “Why? You wanna go make out with your girlfriend?" Oh shit. I guess he must really be a pain in the ass for Asher. "Hey, watch it, man!” Asher snapped and Ralph laughed. "Just kidding, okay? And I'm coming with you. Like it or not.” I think the major difference between both guys was their hair. While Asher had long dark hair, Ralph's was a brown textured crop with a clean taper fade on the sides and back. Lord, the dude was so fine.