Fox Hair, Orange Heart

The bathroom mirror showed someone I didn't recognize yet. Someone with bright orange hair, the kind of color that screamed *look at me* even when I wanted to disappear. Three hours and a box of dye later, and I looked like a literal fox—rust-colored and way too conspicuous for a Tuesday.

"You look like a traffic cone," Maya said, barely glancing up from her phone. But she grinned. "A cute traffic cone."

I smoothed my hands over my new hair, feeling weirdly exposed and weirdly brave at the same time. The old me—brown hair, blend-in, make-no-waves me—felt miles away.

"You coming to padel practice?" she asked. "Jordan's gonna be there."

That was the thing, though. The orange hair wasn't random. It was for him. Jordan with his effortless smile and the way he looked right through me most days, except when we were on the padel court. Then I was just his doubles partner, the one who could actually return his serves.

The court smelled like rubber and summer. Jordan was already there, spinning a racquet.

"Whoa." He did a double-take. "What did you—"

"Dyed it," I said, before my courage could bail. "Like it?"

He studied me for a second. Really studied me, like he was seeing something new.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "Yeah, I do. It's..." He smiled, actually smiled. "It's bold. Suits you."

Something unknotted in my chest. Not a *he loves me* something—let's not get crazy—but a *he sees me* something. A *I exist* something.

We played. My orange hair flew everywhere. I missed shots I usually nailed. But I didn't care. For the first time, I wasn't trying to disappear.

Afterward, sitting on the bench while Jordan packed up, he tossed me a Gatorade. Orange flavor, obviously.

"You should keep it," he said, nodding at my hair. "The fox vibe. It's working."

*Fox vibe.* I laughed, surprised. Maybe he did see me. Maybe I was starting to see myself, too—bright and messy and impossible to ignore.

"Yeah," I said, and meant it. "Think I will."