Something From Nothing

I Like Your Crown

Achilles Morgan

"Do you ever cut your nails?" I ask as Keaton, Alfie's and I guess my friend now, styled my hair.

His nails were probably longer than the list of crimes I've allegedly committed.

I was slightly surprised when after another few hours at the mall and some choice shopping, Alfie had dragged me back to his room which was on the opposite side of  the palace to mine and called Keaton to come and help us get ready. Apparently, he was some sort of fashion, makeup and hair guru and from the miracles I've seen him perform tonight I can strongly support that declaration.

Now after spending an hour making me try on different suits and then another hour yelling at me for letting my hair get to this so-called 'mess' Keaton had got to work, going as far to wash my hair for me as well as cut it and put various products into it, all the while lecturing me about how to look after my hair correctly.

I was quite nervous, not only had I never ever worn a suit before in my entire life but never have I had to flaunt myself in front of other people. There was also the fact that everyone would be judging me as Logan hadn't been hiding that I was his mate or at least that he believed I was.

It was nerve-wracking. Keaton also hadn't let me look in the mirror which didn't help my anxiety either.

"Not often. They make for good weapons when punching doesn't cut it." I tried to look up at Keaton's face but he tilted my head back down as he put some finishing touches to my hair. I don't get why he just couldn't run his fingers through it and say 'hazar' that's what I always did.

"I'd understand that if you weren't a boy."

Keaton stepped back and shrugged, giving my hair another look. "I haven't worked out since I was 13," He hit me gently on the nose with his comb. "Stereotypes don't help me in a fight."

As Keaton reviewed my hair I took that time to review him. It was clear he hadn't ever worked out. He was practically skin and bones but that didn't mean he wasn't good looking. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

His smile was soft with a hint of femininity but his strong bone structure was all male. The tilt of his lips created slight dimples and creases that moved his freckles. His eyebrows were thick and shaped perfectly and his lips were colored a little darker than his bronze skin. Some sort of shiny stuff accentuated his cheekbones and eyeliner was delicately placed around his eyes just under some pomegranate colored eyeshadow.

The beta's hair was, dark and lustrous, had a sheen like fine hardwood. But that comparison wasn't entirely fair, I suppose. Hardwood didn't swish gently like his hair does, swaying with the words he speaks. A shiny varnish catches merely light around it, but the depths of that deep chestnut brown reflected all the radiance of his smile.

I could see why some people may bully him for how he looks but from what I've learned about Keaton I knew he really couldn't give a shit about what people thought of him. In my opinion, I thought he looked amazing and in his suit, I knew I'd be pale in comparison.

"Okay, I think I'm done," Keaton said. Putting his comb down and adding the last bit of hair spray.

He held out his hand and pulled me up, dragging me into another room where a full-length mirror stood in the corner. He situated me in front of it and I finally got to see how I looked.

I was wearing a black single-breasted jacket that overlapped a crisp white shirt and red tie. It was slim fitting and everything even the black slacks clung to my body like a second skin.

My hair was much shorter now. It was cut close to my head at the sides and on top, it was still a little longer but not so much that it would fall into my eyes. My white-blonde hair was styled into a perfect quiff which truth be told drew more attention to the vile scar across my face.