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Your mom was going to kill you. Several hours ago, she had silk pressed your hair with the dreaded hot comb and told you to bring an umbrella in case it rained after school so you wouldn’t get your hair wet. Your dumbass left it on the bus on the way to school. So, here you were, standing underneath the school's overhang for shelter from the rain that came down in bullets. As you lamented what your future would look like once you got home with soaked hair, you were forcibly pulled from your thoughts when a voice interrupted your train of thought.
"Waitin' for someone?" a male voice spoke.
You spotted your classmate, Arvin, sporting a blue jean jacket over a white t-shirt with his signature blue hat nestled snugly over his brown hair. Arvin was one of the few people in your school that you tolerated. He was polite to you and had the decency to acknowledge and talk to you in the hallway or in the classroom unlike the majority of your classmates. You were one of five black students at a school that had just agreed to let black students enroll last year, so you weren’t surprised by the lack of hospitality. Arvin however managed to make you feel welcome, along with his step-sister, Lenora, so it made your high school experience bearable.
"Just waitin’ for the rain to let up."
"Think you might be waitin' for a while. Heard it s'pposed to rain like cats and dogs till tomorrow." Arvin frowned as you laughed sardonically.
"Guess I'm spending the night here.” Your shoulders slumped. “My mom would have my hide if I came home with wet hair."
“Why’s that?”
“Because it took her two hours to do it.”
The fact that it took that long to do your hair surprised Arvin, but he understood. He remembered that his grandma and Lenora would take the longest to get ready whenever they went to church. His grandma taught him that it took time and effort for a woman to make herself look and feel beautiful.
"Sounds like you could use a ride home," Arvin said with a smirk.
"I don't wanna put you out, Arvin." You shook your head.
"Ya won't be. I promise. What kind of man would I be to leave you out ‘ere in the pourin’ rain? It’s blowin’ up a storm out ‘ere."
“I can’t argue with that.”
Arvin shrugged off his jean jacket and held it out to you. “So you don’t get wet.”
“What about you?” You reluctantly took the jacket and held it over your head like a makeshift umbrella.
“I’m gon’ be all right. A little rain ain’t hurt nobody.” Arvin shrugged.
“Yeah, but a lot can kill ya.” You countered.
“Just c’mon.” Arvin rolled his eyes.
You followed behind Arvin as he walked through the pouring rain towards his car, unfazed that his white shirt was now sticking to him like a second skin. You kept the jacket over your head, taking in his scent as you held it close to you. It was a smoky, but earthy smell from what you guessed was from him living out in the country and smoking menthol cigarettes. You weren’t a fan of cigarettes, but the scent on his jacket for some reason didn’t bother you. If anything, the scent almost acted as a sedative that relaxed you.
“Your chariot awaits.”
Arvin opened the passenger door for you and you quickly thanked him as you got inside the vehicle, removing his jacket from your head. You pulled down the sun visor just above the windshield to check your hair in the mirror. You sighed in relief to see that your hair had remained dry and straight despite the heavy downpour.
“Thank you, Arvin.” You thanked him as he climbed inside the driver’s seat.
“Don’t mention it.” Arvin smiled softly. “We just gotta wait for Lenora to come out and I can take ya home.”
“Okay.”
You and Arvin sat in the car in comfortable silence, the only sounds being the rain hitting the car roof and the pavement. Arvin took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair then turned to look at you.
“So…if your, uh, hair got wet, what’s it look like?” Arvin asked with hesitancy in his voice.
You opened your mouth to reply, but paused as you thought over how to describe your natural hair. The last thing you wanted to do was call it nappy. So, you said the next word that came to your mind.
“Kinky,” You uttered.
As soon as the words left your mouth, you quickly tried to correct yourself upon realizing how you sounded. “I mean… it’s like… hard to comb through and it’s thick and big. Oh God, that sounds so much worse, doesn’t it?”
You could feel the heat rush to your face as Arvin snorted trying to hide his laughter. “Well, I hope I’m lucky enough to see ya hair like that one day. I bet ya look just as beautiful.”
You looked down at your lap, unable to meet Arvin’s gaze at his sudden confession. For years you were conditioned by your mother to believe that you needed to keep your hair bone straight if you ever hoped to be taken seriously by white folk. Arvin was the first one to tell you otherwise, and you weren’t sure what to do with that information. As you debated on how to respond, the sidecar door opened and Lenora slid inside the car.
“Hey y’all, sorry ‘bout that. I had to ask a teacher about my homework.” Lenora smiled apologetically, slamming the door shut.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Arvin reassured. “I’m gon’ drop off (y/n) here then we can head on home.”
“Okay!” Lenora nodded.
Once you told Arvin how to get to your house, he started up the car and drove off taking the directions you had given him. You stayed silent for the majority of the ride as Lenora chatted with Arvin about her school day. You’d chime in when she asked about your day, giving short answers as your mind was elsewhere, thinking about what Arvin said to you. The conversation dies down once you reach your house.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you both tomorrow?” You stole a glance at Arvin.
“Yeah, tomorrow.” Lenora agreed from the backseat.
Arvin looked in the rearview mirror to see Lenora looking at him expectantly. His face flushed, knowing exactly what Lenora was going to suggest. He slipped his hat back on and steeled himself.
“I’ll walk you to your door,” Arvin said, adjusting his hat.
“Oh, okay.” You stepped out of the car and put Arvin’s jacket over your head again as a shield from the rain.
You and Arvin walked together in silence as you approached your home, going up the driveway before you reached the porch. You slowly removed Arvin’s jacket from your head and held it out to him. He took it and slipped it back on, straightening it out.
“It was thoughtful of you to take me home and walk me to my door.” You finally met Arvin’s gaze, admiring the warmth in his brown eyes.
“Like I said, don’t mention it,” Arvin said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“So, I wanted to ask…did you mean what you said?”
“‘Bout what?”
“When you said I’d be beautiful even if my hair weren’t straight.”
“Yeah. Think any man would be lucky to see it. I hope you don’t mind me sayin’ this, but I think you’d be as pretty as a peach, (y/n).”
The conviction in his voice and his words must’ve had an effect on your body because you found yourself taking a step towards him and kissing him on the cheek. It was brief but also soft and gentle. Arvin held up a hand to his cheek where you left an imprint of your lipgloss. By the time Arvin had realized what you had done, you were back inside the house leaving him standing on your doorstep.