I do not own Shake It Up!.
Cece stared at her reflection and pouted. Her hair was a wreck. It was straight and frizzy, and her usual ginger curls were nowhere to be seen. She glared at the cast on her arm and groaned.
She had broken it while rehearsing her latest dance routine; who knew a cartwheel could be so dangerous? She'd refused to not participate in the televised performance, however, so they gave her a simpler part. But how could she go out there looking like a hobo? She buried her head in her arms.
There was a knock at her door. "Come in." Cece called, her voice muffled. "Hello, bay-bee!" Gunther whispered as he entered. Her shoulders drooped. "What do you want?" she asked. The blond chuckled. "A little goat told me you are having hair troubles." Cece raised her head and glanced at Gunther in the mirror. "Isn't the expression 'a little birdie told me'?" she asked, furrowing her brows.
"Not in my country." he replied. The redhead noticed the comb and curler in his hands. "Oh no, you don't!" she exclaimed, jumping from her hair. She put her hands on her head, as if to protect her matted, messy hair. "But don't you want to look fabulous?" he asked, cocking his head to the side in confusion.
"Yes, but you can't style hair!" said Cece, moving closer to Gunther to shoo him away. "How do you know that? I do have a sister, you know. We do each other's hair!" Gunther protested, glancing down at Cece as she attempted to push him out. She stopped for a moment to look up at him. "Really?" she asked. Gunther nodded.
Cece plopped down into her chair once again and beamed. "Let's get started then!" Gunther plugged in the curling iron and stood behind her, slowly combing her ginger locks. "Cece, your hair is so damaged. Don't you use a heat protectant when curling your hair?" he said, amazed by the dryness of her split ends. Cece glanced from left to right. "Am I supposed to?"
The blond shook his head. "Disgrace." He pulled out a bottle and sprayed her unruly hair with its contents, then proceeded to comb through it. "You keep that stuff in your hand bag?" Cece asked.
As soon as it was ready, Gunther picked up the curling iron and started at the back of her head. He definitely had some skills when it came to hair. Each curl came out looking as if it was done by a professional. As he twirled the iron around just a few more strands of her hair, Gunther accidentally pressed it to her cheek; causing Cece to cry out in pain.
"Cece! I am so sorry!" he apologized. She winced and turned back to look at him. "That's probably going to scar!" she exclaimed. Gunther held up his finger and fished for something in his hand bag. He pulled out Neosporin and a (very sparkly) Band-Aid. He squeezed the tube onto the burn and stuck the Band-Aid to it, patting it lightly to make sure it was going to stick.
Finally, Gunther reached down and pecked her on the cheek. Cece flushed a light shade of pink. She'd never been kissed on the cheek before by anyone other than her parents. Gunther's lips were soft and warm against her skin, and for that moment, she had forgotten about the sting of the burn completely.
The blond stood up straight and looked at himself in the mirror. "Boo boo better now?" he asked, grinning. Cece nodded meekly. "Alrighty, then. Let me get situated here, so I do not hurt you again." He stated. Gunther placed himself in front of her, his azure orbs fixated on her few remaining locks of uncurled hair.
She felt uncomfortable. He should have never been that close to her. She could practically feel his breath on her neck. And, being the curious teenager she was, had to resist the urge to take a whiff of it. It would've been a great accomplishment for Cece Jones to be the one to tell the entire school that Gunther Hessenheffer's breath stank. Oh, the laughs she'd get! And all the wonderful criticism the irritating blond and his evil sister were to receive!
Cece took a chance and sniffed it. Oddly enough, his breath smelled of peaches. She raised her hand to her mouth and pretended to cough-hers reeked of taco meat. Where was a mint when you needed one?
"There," said Gunther. He turned off the curling iron and returned to the back of the chair. "Ta da!" Cece took a moment to look herself over. She usually curled her hair by herself, but these curls were better than any she could have ever created. Gunther was good. Scary good.
"Thanks, Gunther." She beamed. "Your welcome, Cece. It's not my best, though. This is my first time working with such terribly dry and damaged hair." He sighed. "But you still look fabulous." Cece then glared at him. Did he have to bring that up yet again? "Get out." She ordered, rolling her eyes.
Gunther obeyed and made his way to the door. Before he could step out, Cece spoke up, "Wait," He turned around, eyebrows raised. "Yes?"
Cece sighed. "Would you mind…coming to my house tomorrow morning? To do my hair, I mean?" she asked, her cheeks rosier than usual. From her mirror, she observed as Gunther's lips formed a wide grin. "Of course, Cece."
As he exited, the redhead reminisced of time when they were a couple. She sort of missed all of that; his kindness towards her, the outfits her made for her, his silly yet romantic way of expressing his feelings towards her. She even missed their Little Gunther and Little Cece conversations.
Cece gasped at the sudden tugging at her heart. What was it? Surely not guilt. It was the same thing that went on in her body when she was on a date. No-could it be? Was Cece Jones beginning to have…feelings for Gunther Hessenheffer; one of her many frenemies? She wasn't sure. What she was aware of, however, was that tugging sensation in her chest felt nice.
Later that evening, when all of the dancers gathered for their performance, Cece allowed the butterflies to fly into her stomach welcomingly as Gunther danced along with his sister.