Chapter 22 #3
Grace watched as if considering her. Then, quietly, but with that steady spark in her gaze, she said, “Will you cut my hair?”
Alix looked up. “What?”
Grace tucked a strand behind her ear, almost shy. “I’ve had the same haircut since high school. Maybe it’s time for a change. Just… something small. Some layers?”
Alix’s pulse did something ridiculous. She twirled the scissors in her fingers, pretending to think. “You’re serious?”
Grace nodded. “I trust you.”
“Well,” Alix said, squinting at her. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”
Grace sat on the tall barstool at the kitchen counter, leaning back over the sink while Alix adjusted the faucet and tested the temperature with her wrist. “Tell me if it’s too hot.”
“It’s perfect,” Grace said, eyes already half-closed.
Alix ran her fingers through Grace’s hair, wetting it in slow, careful passes.
The water made a quiet rhythm against the porcelain.
She worked in shampoo and began to massage, her thumbs tracing small circles at the base of Grace’s skull.
At her salon back in LA, they had a dedicated hair washing assistant, but she’d always enjoyed how relaxing it felt to give someone a massage.
Grace sighed, the sound quiet and almost fragile. “That feels incredible.”
Alix smiled, watching the way Grace’s shoulders loosened, the way she angled her head just a little more into Alix’s hands. “You’ve earned it.”
Grace’s hands slid up to Alix’s waist. Her touch was tentative at first, then bolder. Her fingers traced the curve of Alix’s hips, the line of her ribs.
Alix’s breath hitched. “You’re very distracting, you know that?”
Grace hummed innocently. “I have no idea what you mean.”
Alix chuckled, leaning over her again, fingertips moving in slow, hypnotic circles against Grace’s scalp. The tension between them felt alive. Not frantic, but steady and electric, like a current passing between them.
They didn’t talk much after that. There didn’t seem to be room for words.
Only the sound of water, the scent of citrus, and the steady rise and fall of Grace’s breathing.
When Alix finally rinsed the last of the suds away, she wrapped Grace’s hair in a towel, careful not to drip water down her neck.
Grace blinked up at her, a little dazed. “I think I might’ve ascended.”
Alix grinned. “That’s the deluxe package.”
She draped a towel over Grace’s shoulders, clipping it at the neck with a chip bag clip. Grace laughed, the sound bright and close. “Official stylist gear, huh?”
“I’m nothing if not resourceful,” Alix said, combing through her hair. The strands slid like silk between her fingers.
Grace sat still, the air between them sparking with the electricity of their kiss. “I can hear you thinking,” she said quietly.
“Just deciding where to start. You have such gorgeous, thick hair. It’s a dream.”
“Thank you, I think?” Grace said.
Alix sectioned off the first bit of hair and made the first cut. The blades whispered. Tiny pieces of dark hair fell onto the towel.
Grace’s stunning hazel eyes looked up at her as she combed through another section. “You look serious.”
“I always look serious with scissors,” Alix said. “They demand respect.”
“There’s a scissoring joke in there somewhere,” Grace quipped, her voice lowering.
Alix grinned. “We have one kiss and you’re already thinking of scissoring,” she teased.
“Your username was Scissorsaurus. I thought of scissoring almost immediately, for the record,” Grace said.
Alix paused, leaning down to press a quick kiss to Grace’s lips. “You keep talking like that and you’re ending up with less than half of a haircut,” she warned.
Grace grinned but gave her a small nod. “Okay, I’ll behave until you’re done.”
Alix worked slowly, the way she always did when she was cutting hair for someone she cared about. Grace’s eyes were half-lidded, a small, content smile tugging at her mouth. Every time their gazes met, something inside Alix went light.
It was almost silent. Snip, comb, the faint scrape of metal, the kind of quiet that felt intimate rather than empty. When Alix brushed a strand away from Grace’s face, her fingers grazed skin, and Grace’s breath hitched just a little.
When the last strand fell, Alix dusted off Grace’s shoulders and worked some product into her hands, hand-styling the face-framing pieces into place. She stepped back and said, “Okay. Bathroom mirror viewing party.”
They walked together to the bathroom. Grace leaned in, fingertips combing through the new layers. It wasn’t a big change, but it was enough to soften her face. To make her look a little more herself. But her expression shifted as she looked, eyes shining with something quiet and deep.
“I feel really pretty,” she said, so low it was barely audible.
Alix’s throat tightened. “You are,” she said. Then, even quieter, “You’re stunning.”
Grace turned to her, eyes glistening. “You really think so?”
“I do.”
The space between them shrank until there was nothing left to bridge.
It wasn’t the frantic, frozen pond kind of kiss.
This was slower, deeper, anchored in the hum of the house around them.
Grace’s hands slid into Alix’s hair, pulling her closer until Alix had no choice but to wrap her arms around her in return.
The taste of mint tea and warmth. The faint scratch of towel fibers between them. The low, surprised sound Grace made when Alix’s hand found her waist.
When they finally broke apart, they both looked stunned, like the world had shifted and they were still finding their footing.
Grace’s phone buzzed on the counter.
They froze, still close enough that Alix could feel the tension through Grace’s body.
“It’s the airline,” Grace said, attention on the screen.
Alix blinked, disoriented.
Grace answered the phone, listening and agreeing with whatever she was hearing, and it was all Alix could do to not tug her closer again, pull that sweatshirt over her head, and pick her up to sit on the bathroom counter. She forced herself to take a step back.
“That was the baggage people,” Grace said, her voice shaky. She cleared her throat, trying for composure. “They’re delivering my bag tonight.”
“Oh,” Alix said, forcing her brain to catch up. “That’s kind of late, but good.”
Grace nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. Really good.”
For a long, quiet second, neither of them moved. Grace’s hair gleamed in the bathroom light, layered and soft, like Alix’s touch still lived in it.
Then, Helen’s voice cut through the moment: “Alexandra, don’t you dare leave this hair in here.”
Alix and Grace burst into hysterical giggles, and Grace’s hand slipped into Alix’s, so easy and familiar.
“Come on, let’s go clean up the kitchen salon,” Alix said, leading the way.