LEILA

diego had been excited about this for an embarrassing amount of time.

he had spent nearly four hours sitting in a chair getting his braids done while occasionally looking at himself in the mirror and smiling like an idiot. every time the hairstylist showed him another section, he became even more convinced that you were going to lose your mind when you saw him.

if there was one thing you loved, it was playing with his hair.

he had already imagined your reaction: you were going to smile, tell him he looked handsome, probably kiss his cheek and take twenty pictures of him because that’s what you always did whenever he changed his hairstyle, saying that you loved him.

he opened the apartment door with the biggest smile on his face.

“baby?”

you were sitting on the couch watching a movie while scrolling through your phone.

you immediately looked up before smiling. “hi.”

“hi sweetheart.”

he took off his jacket and waited but you hadn’t noticed yet so he stood there for another seconds.

“do you notice anything?”

you frowned slightly before looking at him properly and your eyes landed on his braids almost immediately.

you had already decided to prank him before he even had the chance to speak so you tilted your head slightly.

“hmm.”

his smile faltered just a little as you pretended to think for a few seconds.

“it’s nice.”

nice? he had been expecting gorgeous. handsome. breathtaking, perhaps. like everytime he came home with his hair done. so nice was absolutely unacceptable.

“just nice?”

“yeah.”

“that’s it?”

“mhm.”

“do you not like them?”

you pretended to examine his face and hair very seriously. “they’re... mid.”

“mid?”

“solid six out of ten.”

“six? you rude!” his mouth fell open.

“maybe six point five because i like your face.”

“my face saved half a point?”

“yes.”

“i spent four hours getting these done.”

“that’s unfortunate.”

“unfortunate?”

you nodded sympathetically. “i would’ve asked for a refund.”

he immediately grabbed his phone.

“i'm going to do it.”

you burst out laughing at the horrified expression on his face and he stared at you.

“you’re lying,” he narrowed his eyes.

“about what?”

“everything.”

“what makes you say that?”

“every time you lie you smile like that,” he imitated you.

“i don’t.”

“yeah yeah, you do.”

you tried to keep a straight face for approximately two seconds before laughing again.

“it was not funny, i was about to cry,” he crossed his arms.

“no, you weren’t.”

“yeah, true. but i really thought i looked ugly.”

“aw,” you grabbed his face between your hands. “you look ridiculously handsome.”

“really?”

you smiled as you admired his braids properly.

“like unfairly handsome.”

“so they’re not mid?”

“nop.”

“not even six out of ten?”

“more like eleven.”

he smiled proudly. “yeah yeah, i know.”

“i love them.”

“if you ever say mid again, we’re breaking up.”

“over a prank?”

“yes,” he nodded.

“you’d miss me too much after three minutes.”

“that’s true.”