Six.
I swear I didn’t drop in on purpose.
I wasn’t seeking her out, wasn’t trying to find my way into her space. It just happened like that.
I was leaving the park, after hooping with a few guys from the shop, since it was my day off. On those days, I only went to the shop to open and close it, maybe run a few numbers or something, but I usually steered clear so nobody would find anything for me to do. On the way home, I even took a slightly different route home so I wouldn’t be right in front of the windows as I walked past, lest I catch somebody’s attention and get pulled into spending hours there doing one thing or another.
That slight variation put me right in Jules’ path. As soon as I turned the corner I saw her, trying to maneuver a wagon full of what I could only describe as junk through the front door of her studio.
“Hey, let me help you with that!” I called out, and when she looked up to see it was me, I almost laughed at the relief on her face.
“Thank you,” she professed, a hand to her chest as she held the door open for me to get it inside, and then closed it behind us. “My shoulders are so sore from digging through crap I was almost about to just say forget it, and leave it at the door.”
“What is all this anyway?” I asked, peeking through the pile of random… stuff. Picture frames, planters, baskets, a wire-framed chair… all manner of things I couldn’t fathom being useful.
“Photo props!” Her smile was huge as she grabbed the handle of the wagon, pulling it behind her as she headed down a hallway, motioning for me to follow. She flipped the light on to another big room, filled with various piles of stuff that looked a lot like what was already in that wagon. “Of course I’m gonna have to jazz it all up first, but I spent the morning at the flea market, sourcing things that I’ll use in different shoots. I know it probably seems random, but I have a vision for it. Like this chair? Ten bucks! I’m gonna spray it some bright, funky color, and then some teenager’s parents are going to hire me to take their senior portraits. I’m gonna plant that chair in the middle of somebody’s garden, put that teenager in, and take pictures that compare this step in her life to… growth and blooming, and harvesting… or something. I know it’s corny, but I love it, and I’m excited.”
“I actually think it sounds dope,” I laughed, using the towel draped over my shoulder to wipe away the sweat I was still producing after spending two hours running around in the steadily rising heat this morning. “You’ve got a creative mind.”
Jules beamed over the compliment as she started sorting her new discoveries into the existing piles. “Why thank you! Now I just need some clients to go with it.”
I nodded. “Yeah, that would probably be good. I’m shocked you don’t have anyone yet though.”
“I’m not,” she shrugged. “I’m actually still working on being properly equipped for that. I got a great amount of interest from the barbershop photos – lots of social media engagement, newsletter signups, things like that. But, I actually don’t have a client intake process yet, which is what I spent yesterday discussing with my web developer. Which is another thing to be excited about,” she went on, clearly in a more talkative mood than when I’d seen her a few days ago.
That shit had bothered me, for multiple reasons.
It was always a bit of a sore point with me, when people complained about their families. My first thought was usually “At least you have somebody”, but I quickly realized that whatever Jules was going through with her people… it wasn’t any of that petty shit I heard so often. I’d never gotten the impression that she was emotionless, or detached, but she seemed so feisty and resilient that seeing her cry… it troubled the hell out of me, because I knew it had to be bad. It had to be something that hurt deep.
I was more than a little concerned with how pissed I was that somebody had hurt her. But it wasn’t my business, so I hadn’t pried. Just did what I could to make her feel better, and it seemed like I’d accomplished that.
Seeing her today, back to the vivacious girl I’d first met?
Man, I’d stand here and listen to her all day.
“I’m so glad I decided to go with someone local, instead of just hiring someone online. She’s willing to make a trade, which is… phenomenal. Astrid wants me to take some promo shots for her yoga business! I know on the surface that’s not what Love Notes is about, but because she’s giving me full creative control, I can do it my way. Make it about the relationship with the body, the mindfulness, the peace that comes with yoga practice, you know? That way, they serve dual purpose – beautiful shots that are within the bounds of what I want to do, and they can still be used for promotions.”
I nodded. “Nice! I know we’ve definitely had new customers in the shop since you put out those pictures. It’s been poppin’ over there. I actually brought in a new barber this week.”
Her eyes got big, and she stopped what she was doing. “Really?!”
“Yeah, really,” I laughed.
“That is so great!” She clapped her hands, keeping them clasped together for a moment as she chewed on her bottom lip, obviously thinking through something.
“Yeah, it is. And, in a few months, a friend of mine is gonna need some maternity shots, and she mentioned maybe coming to you.”
Somehow, those eyes got bigger. “Really?!” she squealed. “Who?! She knows about me?!”
“Well, I can’t tell you who quite yet. I don’t think they’re telling people she’s pregnant for another month or so, but yeah, she knows about you.”
“Wow. I mean, I know there’s a logo on the window, but still… God this is exciting,” she gushed, then blew out a breath. “And I love maternity, so much. Pregnancy is so beautiful, and getting to help those mothers document that time, growing a baby they’re gonna love and cherish and care for is… it’s just amazing.”
I swallowed. “Yeah… I can imagine.” She went quiet after that, and I felt her eyes on me. She knew something had shifted, but probably wasn’t sure what. And hell… neither was I. “Hey…” I asked, looking up to find her attention still keenly directed at me. “You ever done like… adoption photos? Like a couple adopts a kid, gets pictures of the new family?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t personally done them, but I’ve seen them before. They’re beautiful.”
“Yeah. Of course.”
Silence again.
And then, “Hey, Troy…” when I looked up again, she’d put down the frame in her hands, and started walking toward me, pulling off her utility gloves. “Have you ever considered doing one of those ancestry test things?”
My eyebrows shot up. That was not the question I was expecting, at all.
“Nah,” I shook my head. “Well… I mean, I’ve thought about it, but I figured… if they wanted to be found, they wouldn’t have given me up in the first place.”
I expected that statement to be met with pity, but instead, her eyes lit with triumph as she stopped in front of me, propping her hands on her hips.
“Well, your parents, yeah, but… they aren’t your only family. You could have grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins who would love to know you.”
I frowned. “Why would they if my parents didn’t?”
“Because they’re not a hive mind?” she asked, even though it wasn’t really a question. “Listen… I was… kinda adopted too. When I was fourteen, I moved in with my aunt and uncle, because… because of stuff at home. At sixteen, my mother tried to force me to come back, but I refused, and so she legally gave up custody of me, and my aunt and uncle took it on. My mother never spoke to me again. Didn’t help with prom, didn’t come to my graduation, nothing.”
Trying to figure out how to address her without being rude, I ran my tongue behind my teeth, stalling. Finally, I said, “Jules… that’s messed up, really. And I’m sorry it happened to you. But… I don’t understand what it has to do with me?”
“It has everything to do with you,” she insisted. “What I’m saying is, I know what it’s like to have parents who… suck. I mean, we don’t know your parent's reasons, but it doesn’t matter. Just because they wouldn’t – or couldn’t – take care of, or love you, doesn’t mean that you don’t have other people who would love the opportunity. My Aunt Darcy? She didn’t care how my mother felt about it, even though that was her sister. She saw that I was a kid who needed somebody to love and protect her – to do what my mother wasn’t doing. And she stepped up. You might have your own Aunt Darcy who has spent all these years hating that she couldn’t take care of you. You know?”
I huffed. “Aiight. I guess I get your point, but… what if my shit is no fairy tale? What if it’s a bunch of motherfuckers who want nothing to do with me?”
“Then you lost exactly nothing. And now you have names to curse out in your head when you think about this shit, because I know you think about it. I can tell it bothers you. So… wouldn’t you rather at least know?”
My hand went up burying fingers in my hair as I scratched my scalp, and thought about what she was saying – presenting something I’d contemplated before in a light I’d never even considered.
“Man, I can’t be giving these white folks my DNA,” I chuckled, trying to bring a little light to what was turning into a heavy moment. “And I already have a little record? They’ll send my shit straight to the “frame this motherfucker for something” pile.”
Jules’ head tipped to the side. “A “little” record? What did you do?”
“It was years ago,” I started, giving that disclaimer up front. “Lil’ bit of… urban pharmaceutical marketing. Unlawful possession of a weapon.”
I expected judgment, maybe even a little fear, but as usual, Jules surprised me by nodding. “Because why wouldn’t you have something to protect yourself.”
“Still illegal. Still some shit I wasn’t supposed to be into,” I said, not giving myself the same grace I was glad to get from her.
“Well sure, we know that part. How many years?”
“Two out of ten. Got really damn lucky with that.”
Jules let out an ugly sound. “Yeah. While Becky with the good hair over in Cali or Denver is making millions now, selling the same things they lock us up for. But… that’s off-topic. I was actually going to recommend this company called Roots. They’re black-owned, anti-police brutality, all of that. Not as big as the other services obviously, but they’re for us. And if you get matched with someone else who has done it, they have ways to initiate contact. You should do it.”
“That actually sounds really dope. I think I might.”
“I think you will. Let’s order it now,” Jules said, grabbing me by the arm and tugging so fast that I was following her willingly before it even registered to me what she’d said.
“Wait, hold up,” I told her, stopping in the doorway of the room she’d set up as her office. She’d already sat down and powered up her laptop, and was typing something as I spoke. “I need time to think about this. Not rush into it.”
“Of course,” she piped, with a smile. “But, there’s no harm in just ordering the thing. If you decide not to do it, just don’t. But if you do decide to use it, you’ll have it. What’s your address?”
I sighed, but gave her the information to place the order, since I agreed with her assessment. Ordering it didn’t mean I had to actually complete it.
I was pulling out my wallet to give her my card for the payment when she stood up, closing the lid of the computer.
“Okay, you’re good to go! It’ll be here in a week.”
I frowned. “Doesn’t it need to be paid for?”
“Yeah, I took care of it. Payback for the honeybun, which was delicious by the way.”
Shaking my head, I went back into my wallet in search of cash. “Nah, how much was it? I know it was more than that damn honeybun.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, stopping right in front of me. She probably didn’t know, but she had a smudge across her forehead from her trip to the flea market. Her hair was pulled into two thick braids, and she was dressed in a tee shirt, baggy jeans, and bright yellow converse.
She was adorable.
“Let me pay you for the ancestry test,” I told her, hoping the firmness in my voice would do something other than make her grin, but of course it didn’t.
“I’m sure you’ll think of another way to make things even between us.” I grunted a bit as her little fist grabbed my sweat-soaked shirt, playing with the hem. “Just gotta be a little creative.”
“Yeah, well…” I started, about to play right into wherever she wanted to take this, but the sound of the front door opening drew her away from me.
Her face dropped into a frown as she waited, and a few seconds later, Anika from the coffeehouse – who I knew now was Jules’ cousin – appeared in the doorway.
“Oooh, my bad,” she said, grinning as soon as she saw me standing there with Jules. “I didn’t know I was interrupting something.”
“I need to get out of here anyway,” I said, returning my attention to Jules. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Let me know what you decide to do.”
“Will do.”
I acknowledged Anika with a nod and then got out of there, already knowing I was about to be a topic of conversation. They were giggling before I even left, and I shook my head as I pushed open the front door to head home with something new on my mind.
Whether or not I was going to take this test.
“Troy, wait up!”
Shit.
In the interest of not being an asshole, my footsteps slowed to a stop before I reluctantly turned to face the source of that request. Even though it was borderline cold this morning, with gloominess compounded by a light drizzle of rain, and all I wanted to do was get to the shop and settle in for what was probably going to be a slow day, I couldn’t bring myself to just outright ignore somebody I used to kick it with.
Mia knew that.
It was why she did it.
At least once or twice a week lately, she made sure we “accidentally” ran into each other. Unlike when I bumped into Jules, Mia was always polished and perfected, hair and makeup, clothes, the whole nine. And really, I wasn’t even the type of dude that had a problem with a woman spending time on her appearance, nothing like that, the shit was just mad transparent – she was never pressed about always being on ten before I cut her off… whatever it was that we were doing.
She clearly had an agenda, and I wasn’t down with being manipulated.
“Good morning,” she practically sang as she sauntered up, twirling her umbrella in her fingers. Once she’d approached, she raised a little higher, covering me too. “You headed to the shop?”
“Only thing that gets me up this early. And good morning to you too.”
A smile spread across her lips. “Thank you. You wanna know what would make it even better?”
Not really…
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me either way, right?”
“Ah, you know me so well,” she said, placing a hand against my chest. “You should come have a cup of coffee with me. That would make this dreary morning even better.”
I pushed out a sigh. “Mia… I’ve explained that—”
“You don’t want any confusion, blah blah,” she interrupted, waving me off. “Let’s be real, Troy – you were going to go open up the shop, then come back out for coffee anyway. You could just come with me now. It’s a cup of coffee, not a marriage proposal.”
“But it’s not “just” a cup of coffee, so I don’t know why you’re playing,” I told her, shaking my head as I pulled back from her touch. “It’s an “in”. An “in” to a situation that I thought we had an understanding about.”
She sucked her teeth, nostrils flaring with sudden anger. “No, you had an understanding. What I had was somebody I liked deciding he didn’t want to deal with me anymore, without ever giving me a real fucking reason.”
Should’ve just kept walking.
“Mia, look – I’m not about to do this. You’re talking about something that happened a year ago, first of all. And second of all – “I don’t want to do this anymore” is a reason. It’s just not what you want to hear.”
“It’s a not a reason, it’s a non-answer.”
“No, you’re looking for me to tell you something was wrong with this, or that, something I didn’t like, some mistake that was made.”
Mia let out a dry laugh. “Oh, so you do understand.”
“I understand perfectly, but what you don’t seem to understand is that I can’t give you what you’re looking for. I just wasn’t feeling it anymore. That’s it.”
“But you’re feeling this new bitch?”
“Aiight. I’ll see you around, Mia.”
I started moving again, intending to go on about my business, because I wasn’t about to stand in the street and rehash a non-relationship from a year ago. We weren’t meeting parents, going out to dinner, talking about our future. We were Netflix and chill, hook up after a night out with friends, let her use the good bowl for cereal in the morning, at best. Mia was cool – not a damn thing wrong with the girl, at all. She was pretty as hell, funny, great at being a hair stylist, banging ass body – and dudes dream girl.
Which is why the fact that she was still on this shit was baffling to me.
Until she brought up Jules.
Then, it made sense.
She was cool – or at least seemed to be – with me breaking things off after the initial “What the hell do you mean?!” feelings had worn off. Pissed at first, but then it was cool. We spoke on the street, could sit in the same group at UG, talking and laughing like it was nothing.
But then about a month ago, something shifted. She was in my face again, trying to make plans, wanting to swing by my place, all invitations I’d had to turn down, because I wasn’t going down that road again – a road that led to nothing.
“Wow, so that really is something? You and her?” Mia called after me, quickly catching up and getting in front of me. “You make this big deal that you’re ready to settle down and “find your future”,” she sneered, doing air quotes with one hand, “but this bitch shows up in town and all you can do is sniff behind her?!”
“First of all, she’s not a bitch, and you need to watch out calling her that. Second, how the fuck do you know my goddamn business? I didn’t talk about that shit with you.”
She smirked. “Your homeboy Monty. All he needed was a couple of drinks, and he called himself trying to comfort me by giving me this information when I asked him what the hell was wrong with you.”
“Why does it matter to you, Mia? Your ass swore up and down you didn’t want anything serious, but you’re still acting pressed about it! It was a year ago! Are you really on this “if I can’t have you nobody can” shit? That’s really what you’re about?”
“Maybe so,” she hissed, eyes narrowed. “I know you took her home the night Dani sang at UG, I saw her all in your face sharing pastries, and I saw you coming out of her little dumb ass “studio” last week, grinning like you won the fucking lottery. What does she have that I don’t? She isn’t even that cute, Troy.”
“See now you’re just lying,” I chuckled, stepping around her to continue on my way. Whatever her reasons were for this bullshit, I honestly didn’t even care. I didn’t have time for it.
“Troy,” Mia pleaded behind me, sounding just pitiful enough that I stopped one last time. “You know this is messed up, right? I really liked your ass. When I thought you were really looking for a wife or something, it was whatever. I wasn’t tripping about it. But now you’re all over this chick that just got here? It’s… whatever. Screw you, Troy.”
I let her have the last word.
Partly because I didn’t feel like arguing anyway, and partly because… it seemed like she needed it. She probably wanted me to say it wasn’t her, that it was me. But it wasn’t me. And it wasn’t her.
Shit between us just… wasn’t.
There wasn’t anybody to blame, and I wasn’t about to shoulder it just to make her feel better. Especially when she’d been getting along just fine until I gave Jules some attention. That was her shit to bear, not mine.
Still, when I made it to the barbershop I was annoyed. So annoyed that as soon as Monty popped his gossiping ass up, I pulled him aside to fill him in on Mia’s little street confrontation.
“Hey man, that was months ago,” he told me, trying to defend himself from my annoyance at him telling business I knew better than to share with him anyway. “She approached me, all teary and shit, asking what was up with you, talking all kinds of craziness about why you ain’t want her. So I cleared it up, and it was cool. I ain’t know it was supposed to be a secret, bruh, my bad. Ain’t nothing to be ashamed of, we rooting for you!”
I scoffed. “Dude – Mia was not rooting for me outside on the street this morning when she called Jules out of her name. She’s using it as ammo, dummy.”
“I said my bad,” he shrugged. Then, a grin spread across his face. “No lie though – Mia ain’t a bad problem to have. You think she’ll fight Jules over you?”
“It’s not a problem I want – this is the drama and shit I wanted left behind me. I’m not checking for Mia, and nothing is even happening with me and Jules. I think she’s dope, that’s it. There’s not about to be a girl fight.”
“Well just kill my dreams why don’t you?” Monty shook his head, moving past me to the door of the office. “That’s what you on now, dream killing?”
“Man, just get out there and cut some hair, and don’t tell Mia shit else about me. Matter of fact, don’t tell anybody anything about me. They wanna know, they can ask me.”
“I got you man, lips sealed.”
Yeah, whatever.
Once he was gone, I blew out a sigh. When it came down to it, it was still my bad for sharing those thoughts with my immature ass friends anyway. Of course they thought it was funny – they found women they wanted to have their children, women they would hurt somebody over, and still took the shit for granted, like it was promised.
It wasn’t.
But, I wasn’t trying to be on this moody stuff right now, so I pushed it from my mind in favor of getting ready for the day instead. By the time I joined the main area of the shop, I was in a better headspace, and able to fall right into the normal groove. Because of the weather, it was a little quieter than usual, but not enough that we didn’t still have a steady flow of activity from people coming in and going out.
Jules stepped in during a lull in the afternoon.
She didn’t seek me out immediately. She stood in the door for a second, observing, looking sunny enough to alter the weather in a yellow jacket and gray floral rain boots.
“Heyyy, there’s that pretty face again,” one of the old heads called out, bringing that beautiful smile to her face. “You come to take some more pictures? I just got fresh for you baby girl, I’m ready!”
“Not today Mr. Edgar,” she purred, undoubtedly making his day. “Actually…” she turned her attention for him to where I was standing, meeting my eyes. “I was hoping your chair was free.”
Considering the fact that I was sitting in it, not doing shit… “Yeah,” I told her, getting up. “You really trust me like that, to let me touch your hair?”
“Gotta trust someone eventually, right?” she asked as she approached, stopping right in front of the chair I’d moved to stand behind. “Can’t be out here looking scruffy.”
I laughed as she took a seat, for me to put a strip around her neck and wrap her in a cape. “I’m not sure “scruffy” is even possible for you.”
“Uhh, you see this, don’t play,” she laughed as I turned her toward the mirror, reaching up to run her fingers through the short coils at the side of her head – coils that replaced the detailed fade that had first drawn my attention to her that night at the coffee house. It definitely wasn’t the same look as before, but I wouldn’t call it “scruffy” at all.
“I got you. You need a wash first?”
She moaned a little as she angled her head in my direction instead of looking at me in the mirror. “Oooh, as good as it sounds to have you massaging my scalp, I already tackled that last night. Maybe next time though?”
“Oh, shit, you’re confident enough in my clippers to be planning for next time, huh?” I asked, pulling out a hair pick to slide through her coils.
“Just trying to give you a little confidence boost, you know?
“Okay gas me up then,” I chuckled. “You have a particular design or anything in mind?”
“Nah, just do your thing, barber man. Whatever you think suits me.”
My eyebrows went up. “Well damn, that’s a lot of pressure.”
“You can handle it though. Come on. Let’s go. I have a shoot in like two hours, don’t make me late.”
“Nah,” I picked up my trimmers to start with a clean canvas by shaping around her hairline first. “I’ll have you out much quicker than that. Tell me about your shoot though, what you got going on?”
“I will be shooting the lovely ladies over at Mane Event. I had to schedule around patrons who were willing to be photographed while their hair wasn’t completely laid yet,” she laughed. “Not even gonna lie – I probably would’ve been one of those who didn’t want to be in the pictures. I just hope they turn out okay with the weather. I won’t be able to get the light I wanted to get, but rescheduling would be a nightmare.”
“Uh… yeah. I can imagine.”
I kept my eyes focused on her hair while I wondered about the practicality of giving her a little warning about Mia, since she was apparently on some bullshit. The problem was, I didn’t want to give Jules the wrong impression – that I thought something was going on between us, or that I was the type of man to stir up drama between women. “Warning” her could definitely go left, when I wasn’t even sure it was worth it. Just because Mia was being cagey with me, didn’t mean it would extend to Jules.
So I kept my damn mouth shut about it.
“That’s dope though,” I told her, picking up my much smaller detail trimmer to draw out the design I was doing. “This still part of your “Home” series?”
“Yep. And points to you for remembering that.”
“Why would I forget?” I asked, and then looked up to find her staring at me in the mirror, wearing an expression I couldn’t read.
“I don’t know. Just wasn’t expecting it. Something being important to me doesn’t make it important to anyone else. People have their own shit.”
I shrugged, then put the trimmers back to her head. “True, but… it’s a little self-centered to just not remember things about people. Not everything obviously, but come on – nobody has that much going on that they can’t absorb shit. Unless they just don’t care, which is a whole other thing.”
“Are you saying that you care, Troy?”
“Huh?”
Jules burst into giggles while I switched trimmers again, giving myself the perfect excuse to delay answering that question – or just ignoring it, period. I couldn’t believe I’d walked myself right into that shit.
“Okay, so I’m not even gonna leave you on the spot by repeating that question,” she said, amusement lighting her eyes as she caught my gaze in the mirror. “I’ll ask a different invasive question instead – did you decide what you were going to do about the ancestry test?”
“Well shit, that’s easy,” I told her. “Sent it off two days ago. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
“Yesss! I’m so glad you did it! How long are the results supposed to take? It’s really just like, your ethnic breakdown right? Unless you have matches that signed up for the service too?”
I nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m looking at. Fingers crossed.”
“Definitely. I’m really excited for you. You’d better let me know about those results too, don’t try to get shy and secretive on me. That pretty ass dark skin, I just know you’re eighty-five percent German, or Italian, or French, Spanish, something. One of the spicy whites, not just regular.”
“Yo – what is wrong with you?” I laughed, pulling the trimmers away so I wouldn’t mess up her hair while I was cracking up.
“Whaaat?” she giggled. “I’m serious about you letting me know your results though.”
“Oh, bet. Already planned on it.”
“Good. Don’t make me have to come looking for you.”
I gave her a smirk in response to that as I stepped back, giving her a slight turn so she could see her hair in the mirror. “Oh you’ll be looking for me aiight, but it won’t be about that. It’ll be cause can’t nobody else touch your hair.”
“Oh my God,” she burst out, loud enough that the whole shop looked in our direction. And I didn’t mind being under that spotlight one bit, because I knew I’d hooked her up. Her mouth stayed open as she ran her fingers over the flower and leaves I’d outlined and then used varying hair lengths to essentially “color” it in, using fading to get a gradient effect. “Are you serious?” she whispered, angling her head back and forth to see, until I held up a second mirror for her to see how the design wrapped around the back.
“You thought it was gonna be wack?” I asked, laughing as I brushed the stray hair from her head and face.
She shook her head, still staring at herself in the mirror. “I knew it wouldn’t be wack, but I didn’t know it would be like this. Wow. How much do I owe you?”
“Not a thing,” I said, waving her off after I’d removed the cape, and she reached into her bag for her wallet. “I owed you, remember?”
Jules sucked her teeth. “Troy, no. I can’t not pay for this.”
I shrugged. “Don’t really have a choice, mama. Don’t you have a shoot to go get ready for? Why you sitting here arguing?”
“You’re right – and that’s the only reason I’m letting this go. For now.”
“If you say so,” I shot back, as she stood, rounding the chair to approach me.
“Thank you,” she said, after she’d stared at me for a few seconds – so long that I wondered what she was doing. “I’ll see you later. Have a good one.”
“You do the same.”
She bit down on her lip before she finally turned away, leaving the distinct impression that the exchange hadn’t quite gone how she wanted. I watched her leave, not realizing until after the door closed behind her that half the shop was looking in my direction.
“What?” I asked, and was answered with a round of laughter and shaking heads that I ignored while I cleaned up my station. I didn’t know how that exchange looked to outside eyes, but it had felt… shit.
So damn comfortable.
And I wasn’t sure I minded.