Chapter 33

"Emegerd! You are so gorgeous!" Joselito cried while dusting off the hair from her. He created a bangs that framed her face and put on some hair shine for finishing touch. "I wanna cry. You don't have to hide that beautiful face anymore."

I wanna cry, too.

After more than an hour of battling against hair keratin treatment cream, the streamer and every once in a while blow drying and combing, finally, her ordeal was over. She had been dreading somewhat seemed like hours. Her neck and back were in pain. Her mind was tortured while she was thinking what her final look would be like.

"Thank you," she whispered and refused to look at the mirror. She didn't want to see her new look. That was one of her requests to the stylist and he must not take it personally. She faced Deive who had his brows drawn together while looking at her. "Have you paid the bill? Let's get out of here."

Deive halted her by touching her shoulder and combed her bangs with his fingers. "Why is it too long? It should be shorter the tip won't sting your eyes."

She felt giddy when he touched her hair combined with the worry in his voice. Ugh! She felt like melting again. He got what he wanted. He didn't have to make her feel excited for his touch.

She brushed off his hand. "That's enough! You got what you wanted. I just want to go home."

He didn't argue anymore and led her to the counter to pay. The other staffs were cooing and praising her as if someone had just put on the Miss Universe crown on her head. While she felt like she had a crown of thorns. Her hair was felt glorious and the great smell was addictive. She felt pampered and it did great to her well-being. But she won't give Deive the satisfaction to know that. He might take her a trip to the salon monthly just to torture her.

Joselito, the stylist was dancing with glee as he received a handsome tip from Deive. "Sir, please come back. I will make your girlfriend more beautiful."

Callea growled at him like an angry dog and gave him a sharp look. Joselito stepped back in fear. She thought her eardrums were bleeding because he kept on harping how he transformed her from a scary white lady to a goddess-like woman. It was starting to grate into her nerves.

When they leave the salon, she felt people's eyes on hers. Looks of admiration were thrown her way. Some would study her from head to foot with a hint of envy. While some men would stare at her as if she was a morsel to eat.

She suddenly stepped behind Deive until her face almost touched his back. He kept looking at her back. "What are you doing there?" he asked in half-wonder, half-irritation.

"They are looking at me," she muttered.

"Because you are beautiful but you look like you will join the parade of Katipuneras (Katipuneras are female members of Katipunan. It was a Filipino revolution launched against the Spaniards during 1892. They wear bodice or blouse with angel's wings sleeves or belle sleeves with cuffs and floor-length skirt.)"

"Can we just go home? Please!" she begged and clung to his polo shirt. She really couldn't stand people looking at her. She was starting to melt.

"No! We still need to buy appropriate clothes that will match your look." Then he dragged her to the nearest women's boutique they passed by.

The sales staff greeted them with a smile. "Good afternoon, Sir!"

"Give me all the dresses those mannequins are wearing." And he told them her size without blinking.

Her jaw dropped. "How did you know my size?"

A mysterious smile curved his lips. "That's my skill."

She crossed her arms across her chest and stepped away from him. Had he been studying her body this whole time? She felt invaded. It was as if his eyes could see right through her and he knew every fiber of her being.

He raised his hands up as if in surrender. "I am not a maniac, alright! I used to buy dresses for my ex-girlfriends. I want them to look good." He took the dress with red tulips at the hem. "And I want you to look good for me as well. People might think that I am a lousy boyfriend and I don't take care of you. That I let you look like a white lady at a horror house. I don't want my bride to look miserable and unkept."

"Sir, here are the clothes that you requested," said the sales staff who was holding a handful of dresses from the stock room.

Deive took the dresses from the staff after a sweet thank you. Then he dragged her to the fitting room. "Try these on." He also included the tulip-printed dress to the dresses that he gave her. "If this will fit, you will wear it later."

Callea shook her head. "I don't want to. You already bought dresses for me the other day, remember? And besides, these are too pretty"

"That's the point. Your dress must compliment your beauty."

"I don't want to look more beautiful." Her shoulders slumped, feeling defeated. If she would look beautiful, more people would look at her.

"What's wrong with being beautiful? You're the only person I've met who doesn't like to look beautiful. You prefer to be ugly and scary? You are impossible."

"Well, to each his or her own."

He closed his eyes for a while. When he opened it, his eyes were like black diamonds which are hard to crack. "Try on these dresses now," he commanded then pressed his hands on both sides of the fitting room's door frame. "If you don't' want to play Barbie, then I will dress you up myself."

She gulped and her whole being was shaken up. With the intent in his eyes, there was no mistake that he would deliver his threat if she didn't move now. "Fine. Go now if you don't want me to crush your hand when I close the door."

"I will wait for you at the couch. Model those dresses for me and don't keep me waiting," he ordered then left with a smirk.

"Mr. Bossy," she muttered and removed her clothes.