Shoulder Length Hair With Glasses の小説・ストーリー

Claire could see the man's beauty beneath the lamppost's illumination. His height was the first thing she noted. His broad shoulders were virtually level with his height. He was like five feet six inches tall. His blue eyes stood out with circular blue flames. He had solid brows and lengthy eyelashes covering them.

he's clearly not a traveler. He was, in terms of his stature, very much average and quite unremarkable. He had a round face with peach, lightly tanned skin and a short, neatly kept beard. His thick gray hair was carefully combed in a traditional manner, though it was slightly longer than one might expect and became somewhat frazzled around the ears. He looked up at her as she began to approach him, the brightly glimmering orangey-brown eyes of his kindly countenance being covered only by the clarifying lenses of his large, round, darkly rimmed glasses.

5 feet. Dressed entirely in black, his clothing seemed to blend seamlessly with the shadows of the surrounding woods, emphasizing the striking contrast of his electric blue hair that stood out like a beacon in the dim light. His eyes, devoid of any white, were as black as the darkest night, reflecting an intensity that seemed to penetrate to the very core of their beings.

Of our work, our choices, our resilience. And for a moment, I just stood there. Staring at the screen. Then the breath came out. Relief. But also... emptiness. ::: An hour later, I was sitting in a large salon chair with a black cape draped over me, while a a hairstylist ran cool fingers through my long hair. “Shoulder-length,” I said. "Okay, Miss" “Shoulder-length. She said shoulder-length,” she muttered like it was the saddest thing she'd ever heard. “But there’s no scissors sharp enough to cut the stupidity out of her brain.”

Her friend Keanu had told her that nowadays boys were keeping long hair. She was not wearing any makeup except she had to put on dark gray contact lenses to hide her azure eyes. Those grey eyes were now behind thick-rimmed black glasses for men. She had glued fake thick brows for giving herself a male look. Her disguise was completed after putting on a prosthetic nose. She was never in favor of an artificial beard or mustache.

And they were worlds beyond what I could achieve with my hands alone. A little about myself here. Like I said, I'm eighteen. As for how I look, my hair is rich, golden blonde. Most of the time, I keep it loose, and it hangs just below my shoulder blades. It's mostly straight, with just a hint of waviness to it, so it's easy to work with. Sometimes I tie it up in a bun. I have bright amber eyes, and my face is round, although my cheekbones are high, so it makes it look more ovular. I'm 5'3", which put me at the middle-to-lower spectrum of height compared to my classmates. My body is relatively fit, with wider hips and a round rear (please don't ever refer to my ass as a "bubble butt", or I'll

I quickly put on both heels and gasped. It was all meant for me. How is this even possible? Did he perhaps find Someone to take a sample of my size or something? I did a quick makeup on my face and dressed my hair and at last it fell down freely on my shoulders. Since the red dress was a shoulder off shoulder, letting my hair fall on my shoulder gave me a beautiful look.

The frames were sleek and black, and they accentuated his piercing eyes perfectly. His hair was tied in a pull-back style, revealing the sharp angles of his face, and emphasizing his chiseled features. The longer length of his hair made him look relaxed and approachable, a contrast to his usual tidy and polished appearance. As he gazed at me, his eyes seemed to bore into my soul, as if they could see right through me. I felt a shiver run down my spine as our eyes met, and I couldn’t help but notice the way his glasses made his eyes appear even more intense and piercing.

My shoulders were exposed, but after a few moments of staring in the mirror, I nodded at my reflection as I pushed my hair over my chest. My hair now rested against my chest, not as long as before. But longer than when it was cut. Quickly, I fumbled with the shirt, trying to pull the fabric over my exposed elbows. I could hear Aeron walk into the room and frowned as I tried to get the fabric up once more. But all it did was push against my armpit.

I turned my head slightly, my eyes flicking towards the man who had just settled two stools over. He was tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up, forearms inked in dark spirals that peeked out under the cuffs. His nape-length hair was messy in a sexy way, stray strands dipping over his forehead. Perched on his nose were a pair of nerdy glasses, and his eyes… My goodness, those eyes. Stormy blue. Haunted. Familiar in a way that made something inside me jolt like I'd forgotten how to breathe.