- Aiden -
he had me tingling all over when she was washing my hair. It felt weird to feel that good and know the feeling was because of Lucy.
When she was massaging my head, I almost told her I wished she could wash me all over like that. Thank god I caught myself. That would’ve been totally inappropriate...
Almost as inappropriate as the feeling I had in my dick when she was doing it.
Of course, I always thought she was pretty, but I never thought scabby kneed Lucy with the potty mouth and the biggest super soaker on the block would cause chills to run up my spine like that.
But maybe when I wasn’t paying attention, she stopped being that Lucy. For example, there was nothing scabby about her knees now. I was looking right at them while she towel dried my hair.
When she stopped, I looked up and smiled.
For a second she just stared at me, almost like she’d never seen me before, and then she swallowed and took a step back, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind her ears. “Right this way please,” she said, pointing her palm to the chair across the floor.
I followed her over and took a seat.
She grabbed a comb off the counter and walked behind the chair, looking at me through the mirror. “So how much shorter did you want it?”
I shrugged. “You’re the expert. What do you think?”
She pursed her lips and started combing it back. “I don’t think I should cut it too short. I like when it’s long enough that it still has a bit of wave to it.”
“You mean you like my flow?”
She smiled. “Yeah. In fact, I’m kind of jealous.”
“But you have gorgeous hair.”
She looked away from the mirror and back at my head, her cheeks blushing. “It doesn’t do any tricks like yours though. It just hangs there.”
“Is that why you’re always messing with it?”
“Yeah, cause it’s boring.”
“There’s nothing boring about you.”
She gave me a look like she didn’t totally agree. Then she leaned forward and put the comb on the counter before reaching for a pair of scissors. I didn’t mean to look down her shirt through the mirror, but it was too late. By the time she stood up, I’d already seen the way her bra cradled her round breasts inside the darkness of her shirt.
Worst of all, I would’ve looked again if I’d had the chance.
“So I’ll just cut about an inch off so your hair will feel nice and healthy, and if you want it shorter, we can always cut more off.”
“Sounds good,” I said.
She put her fingers flat against my temples and tilted my head so it was centered.
Then she started taking one piece of my hair at a time, dragging it between her fingers, and snipping across them, causing tuft after tuft to fall to the floor.
At first I just watched her. In fact, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was always so relaxed around me, but this was a totally different Lucy. She was confident and disciplined, and her face was full of concentration. It seemed a shame to interrupt her adorable focus, but again, I wanted the full experience.
“So is this the part where I confess all my dirty secrets and you listen and pretend you’re not going to gossip about me with the rest of the staff?” I asked.
She smiled as she grabbed the next chunk of my hair. “This is exactly that part.”
“What kind of stuff to people normally tell you?”
She shrugged, never taking her eyes off my head. “There aren’t as many dirty secrets as I’d like. Most people just want the luxury of ranting to someone who’s outside their life cause it’s safe and there’s no judgment.”
“Really? No judgment? Ever?”
“Well, not to their face,” she said. “That wouldn’t be professional.”
“You must love it though. You wouldn’t go out of your way to touch stranger’s heads unless you did.”
She laughed. “I don’t really think about it that way.”
“How do you think about it?”
“I think about it as making people feel good. Like I get to fit them with the only accessory that they’re going to wear every day. If I do a good job, it makes people happy and it boosts their confidence.” She worked her way around to the side of my head. “I’m not a miracle worker or anything. I can't fix people’s biggest problems or make the world a safer place, but even on a bad day, I can usually make at least one person feel a little better.”
“And who knows how far that good feeling will stretch.”
“Oh good,” she said. “I thought I was rambling there, but you get it. I mean, I know there are people with more important jobs, but I get a lot of satisfaction from doing this.”
“I think that’s great, Luce. I admire you for following your passion. I think too many people let others beat their dreams out of them.”
“I try not to make time for people like that,” she said. “Plus, in my experience, the people that most resent other people’s dreams are usually those that have strayed furthest from their own.”
She was a wise little firecracker, my friend Lucy. I don’t know why, but hearing her speak so self-assuredly about her life’s direction really inspired me. It made me want to spend more time with people like her.
Then again, maybe she was one of a kind.
She walked in front of me and put the scissors on the counter. Then she turned towards me, grabbed a piece of hair on each side, and pulled them down.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Just making sure the sides are even,” she said, grabbing another two pieces.
And then I shamelessly looked down her shirt again.
She sprang up instantly and looked at me. “Did you just look down my shirt?”
I couldn’t tell if she was mad. “There was nowhere else to look.”
She shook her head. “You could’ve closed your eyes or something.”
“But then I wouldn’t have gotten to see your black bra.”
Her mouth fell open and her eyes went wide. “Shame on you, Aiden Briggs. Looking down my shirt is not part of the full experience.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I won’t do it again.”
“Good.”
“Why would I when all I have to do is close my eyes and-”
She smacked me in the arm. “Don’t you dare.”
I laughed. “Oh my god. I’ve never seen your face so red.”
She glared at me and walked back behind the chair before bending down carefully and pulling the hair dryer out of its cubby.
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” I said.
She cocked her head and looked at me through the mirror. “I know I don’t,” she said, lifting the hair dryer over my head. “You’re the one that should be embarrassed.”
I opened my mouth to speak but she turned the hair dryer on, drowning out the sound of any comeback I might’ve thought of. I considered telling her to relax, that I’d seen them before, but boobs weren’t like that.
As far as I was concerned, they didn’t fall into the whole “you’ve seen them once you’ve seen them all” category. They were different. Every set was different. Every breast was different. And looking down a woman’s shirt was never enough. Any man would want to see more, and I was no different.
In fact, not only did I want to see Lucy’s breasts again, but I wanted to see her black bra again. And for the first time in my life, I wondered what it might be like to discover she was wearing it just for me.
On purpose.
I watched her work her fingers through my hair as she dried it, never once letting the fact that I’d embarrassed her interfere with her professionalism.
When she was done, she slung the hairdryer back in its pocket and stood up, obviously committed to pretending my brief transgression never happened.
“Well?” she asked. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s by far the best hair cut I’ve ever gotten.”
“Wipe that smile off your face, Aiden. I mean it.”
She unhooked my cape thingy and shook it over the floor before dropping it in a hamper at the back of the room.
I stood up and leaned towards the mirror, running my fingers through my hair.
“It looks good,” she said. “I’m glad we did that. It’s a much better way to end my day.”
I clenched my jaw thinking of her sleazy boss. “How much do I owe you?” I asked, taking out my wallet.
“Nothing,” she said. “I don’t want your money.”
“That’s not fair, c’mon. You know I’m good for it.”
“You can pay me by giving me a ride home,” she said, sweeping my hair into a pile with her foot.
“Can I at least help you clean up?”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll worry about it in the morning. Chuck won’t say shit to me about it after today.”
“Your call.” Suddenly the thought of saying goodbye to Lucy and going home to Chelsea made a lump catch in my throat. “Maybe I could treat you to dinner? It would be a shame not to go out and show off your fine work.”
“I can’t,” she said, grabbing her purse from her station. “I asked Fiona to get a pizza for me, remember?”
I opened the door for her and followed her out onto the sidewalk.
“You can come back for a slice if you want,” she said, locking the door to the salon.
“No, it’s cool. I’ll leave you guys to it,” I said, wondering what would set Chelsea off more: me having dinner at Lucy’s or coming home smelling like deep dish?
Lucy changed the radio station as soon as she got in the car.
I smiled. “You know you’re the only woman who gets to do that?”
“Why? Because I’m the only woman with better taste in music than you?”
“Pretty much,” I said, accelerating through a green light.
“So I heard they’re opening a new ice cream parlor off the Brown Line,” she said. “It’s one of those places where they freeze the ice cream into little balls.”
“We should go check it out.”
“I’ll figure out when the grand opening is and let you know.”
“Sounds good,” I said, pulling up outside her place.
She reached down to grab her purse off the floor.
“Thanks again for the hair cut,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. Thanks for the ride… and for saving my ass earlier.”
“Anytime.”
She smiled and got out, digging in her purse for her keys as she crossed the sidewalk.
As usual, I waited for her to unlock the door and waved as she let herself in.
But something was different this time.
This time, I wished I’d kissed her.