Soccer Player Haircuts Novels & Stories

Napatitig ang dalaga rito. Halata sa mukha ng lalaki na may lahi dahil sa asul na mga mata nito. He has this messy taper fade haircut. Matangos na ilong at mapupulang basang labi na parang nangaakit na 'to ay halikan.

Doctor Tate asks. “Um, not that I can think of. How long will it be before the stitches are gone, and my hair can grow back?” I asked. I’m not edgy enough to pull off the half-shaved head, an undercut, or the full-on Sinead O'Connor/GI Jane look. And the boys love my hair. Especially, Forrest, he loved playing with it to tease me.

His new look was a disguise to prevent people from connecting him to the long-haired goth man from the sexy video. Speaking of his hair, he had much less of it and could no longer hide his face behind it. He had what Cassandra called a sensible cut. It was very short on the sides, with a few waves allowed on top. She couldn't keep her fingers out of it, and he found he didn't mind that at all.

He was also wearing his lip ring and it caught the sun, adding to his sex appeal. There was a sheen of sweat covering his rippling muscles as he jogged but the longer I looked, I realized there was something different about his appearance. And then it clicked. Dorian has gotten a fresh haircut. Most of the time I’d seen him at practice in the last forty-eight hours, he had his helmet on and besides, I avoided him like the plague. His red hair has been shaved to the low buzzcut he was wearing the first time he came into the locker room. I felt an unexpected stab of displeasure.

Alex Waking up later than usual, I scratch my long beard and look in the mirror. I’m not so bad, I say to myself. At 6’4”, I’m taller than most men and thanks to my hockey background I have a solid foundation of thick muscles. Those boys had no business calling me ‘Quarter Pounder’ last night, I work out nearly every day. My hair is starting to turn silver, but the salt and pepper isn't bothering me. I could use a haircut though. Going into the playoffs, the team agreed this year to refrain from cutting their hair or beards in a superstitious ritual. This was the first year I played along, letting my locks go wild. Considering our victory, I guess I’ll be growing it out next year, as

I replied. They both looked at each other like this was an amusing game. I can already tell that even though they seem like mean fighting machines they are nothing but jokesters underneath it all. "I was going to cut my hair today, that's what we usually do so that people can tell us apart but, we have crazed elders on the loose so that got put on hold." One replied. A haircut? I could do that. I mean how hard could it be? "How do you usually cut it?" I asked. "I usually buzz cut the sides but leave the top a little longer to style it." He replied. Now that I look I can see that his hair is shorter than his brothers. "Okay, let's do it then." I replied smiling. His smile dropped from his fac

The club owners loved the hair, they found it exotic and Matteo did the same too. With trembling hands, I picked up a pair of scissors, my reflection in the mirror staring back at me with fear yet a glimmer of determination. The first strand of fiery hair fell to the cold bathroom tiles, followed by another and another. As I continued to cut, my hair transformed from a cascade of crimson waves to a short, sleek bob that just grazed my shoulders. Gone were the flashy accessories, replaced by simple, unassuming pieces.

"I like it." "And the hair?" Santiago ran his fingers through the messy, textured locks Isaac had styled with some matte product. "Less to wash after a game. Less for the Bobcats to grab." "A glowing review," Isaac joked. "Mind if I put that quote on the Bella Vida social page?" "Go for it." "Seriously, though... one more photo? A before and after?" Santiago narrowed his eyes. "You sure? I thought the comments made you want to lock the doors."

The applause and whistling from the crowd was so loud that Saira had to cover her ears but she stood on her tiptoes to see him and her breath caught in her throat when she finally saw him after so many agonizing days. His shoulder length hair was now in a crew cut and he looked even more gorgeous sporting the haircut than with his long hair. "God, he's so yummy." A girl said from beside Saira. "I can have him for breakfast, lunch and dinner." "Gross." Saira thought. "Bitch, like you're not thinking the same thing." Her subconscious snapped. "Okay this has to stop." Saira thought. "Get out of my head." "I'm your subconscious idiot. "I can't leave."

Apart from the fact that his father counted heavy stacks of billions every day, ranked as the most eligible divorced bachelor every time, topping the pages of the wealthiest in the country—his son Soren was also on a whole other high. Soren Gregory—the perfect fucking hockey god. Oh man, he was hot. You wouldn’t understand. It wasn’t performative of me saying this shit, but Soren was fucking gorgeous. Like most hockey players, Soren was six-four in height, black wavy hair always pulled into a bun, and when he let it all down… let’s leave that to your imagination. Pierced the top of his ears—not the tip. His godlike, perfectly built body had not a single scar or tattoo on it, well except behi