Love is like a new strain of an old virus: you might think you are immune to it, but then, by the time you analyse your symptoms, it is too late.

This is why, when Prachi found her eyes straying from the streets to the guy standing by her on the bus, she wasn't too worried. Confident that her failed relationship left her immune to infatuation, she chalked up her intrigue to his perfectly styled hair.

'As a hairdresser, it is only normal to notice and appreciate a good hairstyle”, she consoled herself, forcing her eyes off the man. Yet, after a week, the excuse sounded weak to her own ears.

Maybe her indecision was written on her face, or the guy finally gathered courage, he approached her this day, weaving through the crowded bus with the grace of a dancer.

“Hi. I am Ajay.” He smiled, showing teeth as perfect as his hairstyle.

“Hi. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare.” Prachi jumped to excuse herself.

He laughed.

“No, seriously! It's just, your hair. I work as a hairstylist, so I was admiring the cut and choice of streaks. It is almost artistic.” She gushed, mistaking his laughter for disbelief.

“I swear, I was planning to get my hair redone. I don't like this shade of brown. I had specifically insisted on blond, but the guy who did my hair had a mind of his own. I just didn't have the heart to throw a fit.” He grinned sheepishly.

It was her turn to laugh.

“Good thing he did! Blonde isn't your colour. But if you still want a change, here's our card.” She smiled, extending her business card.

“And whom do I ask for?” He asked with a smile that promised trouble.

“You should ask for Santosh, he does miracles with hair.” Prachi blurted before rushing to get off the bus.

She went about her day, distracted and confused. She was still broken up about her ex-boyfriend, but something about the stranger- Ajay- pulled her in.

Shaking her thoughts off, she decided to change her bus-route. She didn't need the hazzle of another relationship quite yet.

But luck wasn't on her side. Three hours into her work, she heard the doors open, only to let him in. Damn him and his good hair!

He had clearly put an effort in his appearance, and she didn't think it was for Santosh. Even as his eyes searched the room, she felt her hopes sink lower. And when he smiled once his eyes fell on her, hope died an early, untimely demise.

“Hi again. I'm here to… redo my hair.” His slight pause had her pulse speeding. Behind her, she could sense Santosh choking over laughter and disbelief.

“Sure, let me get Santosh.” Prachi desperately clung on to the glimmer of escape, but this man refused to take the hint.

“Oh, but I would rather it was you.” Each word hit her resolve like a ton of bricks.

Sighing, she gestured him into a seat.

What followed next was a test of her endurance. With her hands finger-deep in his hair, and his chatter unrelenting, the question wasn't if she would give in, but when she would.

She didn't last the time it took to rinse the shampoo out.

“What are your intentions, Ajay?” She asked, smiling unwillingly at his contagious grin.

“Finding your name, for starters.” His smirk teased.

“Prachi. What else? Don't tell me you really want to change this perfect hairstyle.” She narrowed her eyes, but she already knew there was no heat behind the gesture.

He laughed.

“Of course not, I did this masterpiece by myself. But I wouldn't mind sacrificing it if it meant being around you a bit longer.” He confessed.

Her hands froze.

“I just recently broke up. I am not in the market for a fresh affliction, and you are definitely an affliction.” She smiled to soften the blow, but the rejection flew straight over his wet hair.

“Good, you are single then. That simplifies this.” He rubbed his hands together gleefully, looking so childlike that she just had to chuckle.

She finally noticed the silence, and looked up to see the whole room staring at them with twinkling eyes.

Santosh caught her eyes and smirked, mouthing, 'He is CUTE.’

Glaring at him softly, she turned to her persistent client.

“I am not going to touch your hair, seeing as you had no intention of ever redoing it.” She said.

“Oh, that's okay, as long as you let me meet you again without pretexts.” He wheedled, eyes wide.

“Aren't you so pushy!” She exclaimed nervously.

“Well, I'll have to be. Can't afford to have someone else swoop you away.”

“I don't even know you.”

“That's okay, you can get to know me. We can meet right here till you feel like you can trust me. Your friends will have your back.”

“I am not sure I'm ready to move on.”

“I don't mind waiting till you are sure. Are these your best excuses?”

“You are persistent.”

“Why, thank you!”

She stared at him for a moment, indecisive and confused. Her friend chose that moment to butt in.

“Come here tomorrow at four-thirty, we get off our shift then. I'll be trailing along, and don't forget to bring your A game to your date.” Santosh decided on her behalf before ushering him out of her sight.

She almost protested, but she knew she wanted it too. She was still cautious, but maybe, just maybe, this could work.

After all, it was a match made in hairdresser heaven.

A/N:
Have a lovely month of romance!