23. Chapter 23
23
D estiny walks in the building, and I try not to grimace. I should be glad she bothered to show up, but I find it harder every day to feel anything other than annoyed in her presence.
She walks past me with one of those polite, ingenuine smiles. I give her one in return, until she looks away.
Unfortunately she does catch the scowl it morphs into, before she looks back, steps back and gives my appearance a double take.
“Are you blonde?”
Oh God, no . Please no.
I cover the strip where I imagine my roots showing with the palm of my hand.
“You see nothing,” I tell her.
“Wow. I pegged you as more of a ginger.”
Not that it would be a bad thing, but I feel like the words are meant to be offensive. I’m pale, sure. I have freckles that pop out in the summertime. I see why someone could think that.
“You. See. Nothing,” I repeat slowly.
She gives me the most teenage look, the kind that says suuuuuuuure.
This is a tragedy. This is the worst thing. I’ve been so distracted that I forgot to touch up my hair. I haven’t forgotten in years. Kara has really invaded a little too much of my brain.
“You,” I say accusingly, when she shows up at my front door.
Kara just rolls her eyes, like my anger is nothing but an inconvenience.
It’s not even real anger to be fair, but I don’t appreciate her reaction either way.
“What did I do now?”
“My roots!” I swing the door open wide, and walk away. “I’ve never gone this long without touching up my roots.”
When I hear the sound of her following behind me, I let out a fake sob. She doesn’t bother asking how she’s responsible, but she probably knows.
“No one can see me like this.”
“But I can?” She sounds pleased about it, but she’d probably hate that I realized.
“You forced your way in, there wasn’t much I could do.”
I look up to watch her roll her eyes again and I smile.
“Sure I did.” One of her hands lifts to pull at my curls, probably inspecting the too-bright blonde roots at the base of them. I want to pull away and hide. It should be illegal for this gorgeous woman to look upon such a mess. “Do you want some help?”
I think my heart actually skips a beat at the question.
“You want to help?”
“Don’t freak out or anything. It’s just that I do my own roots all the time, so I know how. It’s kind of fun.”
I want to kiss her. I think about how she’d react if I did, and I decide it’s worth it anyway. I throw my arms around the back of her neck and pull her in for a kiss before she can argue.
Except, instead of pulling away, like I imagined she would, she presses into me. Her hands land on my hips. For a few blissful seconds, it’s as if she doesn’t hate acting like my girlfriend as much as she would like me to think she does.
I’m the one to pull back first, and I look up at her with all the surprise and excitement I feel.
And I could fucking melt to the floor when all she does is stare into me, full lips glistening.
I already struggle with having a filter most days, but that look .
“I think I–” She interrupts my sentence with a shake of her head, and then presses her lips to mine again.
“Go grab a chair,” she tells me. “Where’s your hair dye?”
I know why she changes the subject and I let her. I point her to what she needs and leave to get one of the chairs from my kitchen.
Kara is still in the exact same position when I get back, looking at the basket full of bottles.
“Which one?” she asks as her eyes widen.
Yeah, I lost count of how many different ones I’d collected. I use it so often that any time I see pink dye in a store, it’s mine. If I see a video of someone dyeing their hair pink at home, I find out the shade and order it. It’s happened a lot.
Instagram keeps showing me those videos because I keep interacting with them.
“I don’t care, you can just pick one.”
“But it might not match what you already have.” To emphasize her point, she holds up two of them. One is a pastel, and the other is as neon as they come.
“It won’t matter if you just find one with enough left in the bottle to cover my whole head.”
That used to be so much easier before I let my hair start to grow out. I go through the stuff so much faster now.
“That’s not how it works. You could end up with bright roots doing it that way.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works either.” At least… that’s never happened to me before. “It’s all pink. I don’t really care if there are some varying shades on my head. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”
I hear the plastic bottles being moved around as she digs through them.
“I want it to be perfect,” she says quietly. I wonder if she even meant for me to hear it at all, but I don’t comment. Just in case. “Where’s your brush?”
“Uh, it’s right in front of you.” I point to my hair brush, sitting on the bathroom counter. I notice things in this moment that I usually don’t. Like how it’s full of my bright pink hair, and stained with my dye. I should just get a new one at this point, it’s been through a lot.
“No, like an applicator brush.”
“Oh, pfft.” I wave a hand, dismissing that. “I don’t have one. I don’t need it.”
Kara stands abruptly, shaking her head.
“I’ll be right back.”
“What–where are you–” She’s gone before I can ask.
What the hell?
I guess she’ll be right back apparently.
I pick up my phone, scrolling through Instagram. I like most of the pictures I see, just killing time.
A cute edit of Autumn’s newest book shows up on my screen. A flat lay photo taken on some sand, surrounded by flowers and seashells. The words AVAILABLE NOW! are sprawled across the top in a scripted font. Her social media girl is good , her posts never miss.
It has a whopping couple thousand likes, and hundreds of excited comments. I love to see how far she’s come in the last year. Autumn used to think no one would ever read her books, and they wouldn’t enjoy them if they did. I guess I wasn’t worth believing when I raved about the first one, but at least she gets it now.
Kara appears with a bag in her hand, and I stare at it curiously.
“Look, I know I can be annoying, but if that’s full of cleaning supplies to cover up my murder, I think we can talk this out.”
She tries and fails to hide her amusement.
Throwing the bag onto my counter, she reaches in and pulls out a handful of hair clips. Then a box of gloves. A box of foils. An applicator brush.
Okay, so maybe she knows what she’s doing. That’s all very professional looking.
“We don’t need these,” she says, putting the foils back. “I just wanted to show you how seriously I take this.”
“Very serious. I understand.” I school my expression into the most innocent, obedient thing I can make it, until one smirk from her makes me crack.
I watch as she gets to work, rolling her sleeves up and putting on gloves. She decides on two different shades, mixing them up in a little plastic bowl. Then she turns to me, and uses the end of the brush to evenly section out my hair, and clips them up and out of her way.
Everything this woman does is hot as hell, but all of this is really working for me. She’s so smart, and capable, and focused, and it’s so fucking attractive.
I’m so distracted by her face, that I don’t realize when she actually goes in to start applying the dye. The first cold swipe of the brush pulls me out of my ogling. It’s not as shocking as it usually is when I plop a giant pile of dye onto my head.
Her method won’t leave my scalp a neon color, so I suppose that’s another positive.
“See? It’s so much easier with a brush,” Kara tells me.
She looks like quite the expert painting my roots.
“I don’t think it’s easier. It just looks fancier. I’ve never missed a spot going straight in with my hands.”
“You’re using so much more product that way. It’s a waste.”
I shrug.
“It’s worth it in my opinion.”
I might be lying.
I let my eyes close, something I’d never do at a hair salon. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself for falling asleep in someone’s chair, it would be so embarrassing.
Falling asleep in my own bathroom? With a woman who has already seen me fall asleep in all kinds of positions? Easy.
Except I doze off for a total of five seconds before her voice pulls me awake.
“Sunshine.” Her voice is soft and quiet, sending a wave of warmth through me. “I need you to tilt your chin down so I can get back here.” She taps the back of my head.
I do as I’m told, trying to force my eyes to stay open.
It’s not an easy feat. Her hands in my hair feel so good. From what I can tell, she’s really good at this, too. I just don’t have the patience to try and do it better.
It’s so cute that she does. This grumpy girl that wants to pretend she can’t be bothered with anything.
“Talk to me so I don’t fall asleep again.”
“Okay…” she trails off. The only sound in the bathroom is the rumbling of the fan. The dye I use smells really sweet, but I doubt it’s the best idea to breathe it in without some ventilation. “So, Dahlia is leaving with them in a few weeks?”
I groan, hating the reminder.
“That’s the last thing I want to talk about.”
“Because you’ll miss her?”
“Yeah, of course. I miss her whenever she’s gone for a few days. This will be torture on top of the fact, that I don’t trust Caleb in the slightest. His attention span is too short. Raquel better be ready to over compensate, but I don’t feel confident about that either. She’s never had to be responsible for a child before.” I bury my face in my hands, accidentally touching my hair with the tips of my fingers. I pretend I don’t notice, if only to not embarrass myself in front of Kara. “I’m terrified. I don’t know how I’m going to function when they’re gone.”
She hums once, like she’s thinking. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was her only answer.
I feel her get closer, lean in towards my ear. I can’t help the shiver that flies down my spine when her breath hits my neck.
“You seem like a good mom,” she says quietly. “You care so much.”
I know she’s complimenting me, and I do feel the rush of her kind words. I also know it’s because of her own mother that she felt the need to say it.
“Thank you.”
She doesn’t reply to that, resuming her work.
“I could really get used to you doing my hair. This was a bad idea.”
“I could get used to doing your hair. You look adorable trying not to fall asleep down there.”
I meet her eyes in the mirror, and her smirk doesn’t drop.
It might just be me, but it seems like we’re making a lot of progress today.
“You’re full of nice things to say today.”
“I guess I am.” Suddenly her hold on my hair tightens and she pulls my head back. The dye on my head is touching her shirt, but she doesn’t seem to care. “You’re making it difficult not to be.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I haven’t decided if it is yet.”
Then she lowers her mouth to mine, faster than my brain can process. By the time I register that I need to kiss her back, she’s gone. She moves my head again so she can finish the task at hand, and avoids eye contact in the mirror.
“We should do something.”
“I like doing things. Please explain further.”
“When they go on their trip. Maybe you and I could go somewhere.”
I abruptly turn to face her.
“You want to go on a trip with me?”
She laughs and it’s the cutest sound I’ll ever hear.
“Yeah. It’ll take your mind off things.”
“You care about taking my mind off things? Where is Kara? What have you done with her?”
“Okay, you’re pushing it,” she says with a smile still on her face. “I’m done being nice today.”
“That’s okay, you can be mean to me. We could start in the shower in about ten minutes.”
She laughs again. I am such a winner. How did I get so lucky?
Kara points to the chair.
“Sit your ass back down or I’ll never finish your hair, and we’ll never make it to the shower.”
I’m well aware that it’s confirmation she will be joining.
Dahlia and I sit on the couch, her legs are draped over my lap, and a movie she picked is playing on the screen. My eyes close and open, because I’m caught in an odd half-asleep state. I keep remembering I should scoop her up and take her to her bed, but then my eyes fall closed again.
And repeat.
It has resulted in nothing.
She moves suddenly in her sleep, kicking me in the stomach much harder than I thought she was capable of. I wince as I gently move her legs off of me without waking her. It was the reminder I needed that I also have to pee, and I’m grateful an accident wasn’t just caused. The last thing I need right now is to deal with that clean up. Dahlia hasn’t had any accidents in a long time, and I’ve really enjoyed a life where all of the pee I come across is in a toilet.
And probably her baths, but there’s not much I can do to stop that. She’s six. There are worse things to happen.
I pass by my front door, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
Then I jump out of my skin when a knock sounds on it. I glance back at my daughter, making sure it didn’t disrupt her. She’s still out, lightly snoring and everything.
I glare at Kara when I open the door to see her face.
Before she even opens her mouth to speak, I give her shoulder a little push.
“No! Go!” I shout in a whisper.
She looks confused, and opens her mouth again. I put a finger over it and use my other to point to her door.
“Dahlia is asleep on the couch.”
The realization spreads across her face.
“Shit, I’m sorry!” It’s the first time I’ve heard her apologize for anything. “I completely lost track of my days. I’m so out of it.”
Any frustration I felt is gone that quickly. She might have her cruel moments, but I know she takes my rules seriously.
“I’ll go. I’m sorry,” she says again.
I hold back my smile when she facepalms. It’s just so… normal of her when she’s always anything but.
“Don’t sweat it. See you tomorrow?”
She nods her head before she starts to turn away, but a small voice has us both frozen in our tracks.
“Mama? Who is that?”
Crap.
Dahlia comes up beside me, placing a hand on my leg. It’s something she always does when someone new is around. She’s not hiding behind me or anything, but I can tell it gives her a little extra comfort to know I’m right there.
Kara looks like she’s still ready to run, but instead she’s frozen in place. She looks between the two of us, looking for some direction on what she should do next.
I sigh.
“This is our neighbor.”
“The one with the scary music?”
“Yep,” I tell her.
Kara doesn’t even smirk.
Dahlia motions me closer to her level, so I squat down next to her. As expected, she leans right into my ear to whisper.
Unfortunately, she hasn’t pinned down controlling her volume yet.
“Why is she here?”
“She was… just saying hi,” I whisper back.
Dahlia waves me closer again, so I lean, trying not to lose my balance.
“She has really pretty hair.”
“You can tell her that, if you want to,” I chuckle. I don’t bother whispering it.
The two of them make eye contact, and I watch as she assesses what to do. If she’s comfortable enough to compliment the woman with the scary music.
The sentence rushes out of her so slurred that it sounds like one long word.
Kara smiles.
“Thanks. I like your hair, too.”
Thank goodness kids don’t hold grudges, because my daughter smiles like she just made a new best friend.