Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Summer
Once we get over the sleep clothes snafu, Henry and I settle into a pretty good roommate situation. I work for him in the shop when it’s busy and stay out of his hair when it’s not.
At first, I’d sit in the barber chair and pepper him with questions. But after a while, he would give me a look, somewhere between exasperation and reluctant amusement, and send me upstairs.
Now, two weeks into our new normal, he sends me upstairs as soon as it’s not busy. He has three busy periods in the day. First thing in the morning, around lunch, and then late afternoon through closing time.
Sometimes he sends me out to pick up treats from the coffee shop, and twice I’ve gone to the college to just walk around.
On my second visit, I pick up the summer edition of the student paper and see that they’re hiring for the fall. I race back to the barbershop, my heart pounding.
“Do you think I could apply for this job?” I shove the paper into his hands and crowd close, pointing to the listing. Summer residents are encouraged to come in for an in-person interview. “Will you practice with me?”
He tugs on my ponytail. “Sure.”
There’s a lull before lunch, then he’s busy for an hour straight. Just as we’re talking about walking down the block to the coffee shop, Wake Up Call, someone comes in for a shave.
Henry gets them sitting in the chair, then pulls a twenty from his pocket. “Summer, do you mind getting the drinks? An iced coffee for me, please, and something for yourself.”
“Sure.”
I clutch the money Henry gave me and race down the block. It’s scorching hot today, the temperature rising as the afternoon progresses, and the cool of the coffee shop is a welcome relief.
There’s a short line, and a couple girls my age are ahead of me. As we wait, I can’t help but overhear their conversation.
“Are you going to stay on campus for orientation week?”
“Nah, my mom wants me to come home. But I don’t have a curfew. You?”
“My cousin is in the dorms, so I’ll crash with her. Or hopefully with someone else.” They both giggle at that.
The one who will go home at night flicks her hair over her shoulder. “I don’t want to actually sleep with anyone. Just fuck them and go home to my own bed where I can spread out. Boys aren’t fun to sleep next to.”
That makes me frown. Henry would be lovely to sleep next to. He’s big and warm. But maybe after you have sex with someone, it’s different?
The girls make it to the counter and order their drinks. Then it’s my turn. I get Henry’s iced coffee and a blended strawberry smoothie for myself. The barista points me to the end of the counter for drink pick-up, then helps the customer behind me.
I slide down, hoping to catch more of their conversation, but they’ve moved on to chatting about a TV show I haven’t seen.
Back in the shop, Henry has his customer’s head tilted back with warm towels on his face, and he’s prepping shave cream in a bowl with a brush. They’re chatting away about music, so I put Henry’s iced coffee on the ledge nearby and head for the stairs.
But Henry calls out my name. “I won’t be long if you want to practice the job interview questions next.”
I stop and turn around. “You don’t mind if I hang out?”
He gives me a funny look. “Not at all.”
I busy myself at the till making everything nice and neat while I sip my smoothie. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Henry shave his customer. For a big guy, he’s really careful with his hands, and his fingers are nimble, flicking the straight razor this way and that.
Once the customer is finished, I ring him out, and he leaves a tip for Henry. As soon as he’s gone, Henry hands that to me.
“I didn’t earn that,” I protest.
He doesn’t say anything, just holds it out until I take it, our fingers brushing as I accept the gift. I tuck it away in my purse, then grab my smoothie and hop up in the barber chair. “Henry, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Do you like it when the people you have sex with sleep over?”
He blinks at me, his cheeks darkening. “Excuse me?”
“After you have sex. Do you like them to stay? You have such a big bed. Surely it’s big enough for two.”
His chest puffs out, and he rocks back on his heels. “You can’t ask me that.”
“Why not?”
“It’s inappropriate.”
“Oh.” I frown.
He frowns right back. “Where did that question come from?”
“I overheard two girls at the coffee shop talking about not wanting to stay, you know. After. They were talking about orientation week, and. . . that part hadn’t occurred to me.”
“Ah.” His face twists in a pained expression. “That’s different. That’s hooking up, and I don’t do that. If I have someone in my bed, I want them to stay there. But you don’t need to hook up with anyone, understand?”
That’s the end of the conversation because he’s uncomfortable, and I don’t want to push it. But now I have more questions. Like, why he said if he has someone in his bed, and not when he has someone in his bed.
The next week, I go to the college for the whole day. There’s a new-student orientation that starts with a guided tour of campus while it’s quiet, and then we’re given a choice of three summer school classes to audit.
I go to an astronomy class that easily has two hundred students in it, the most popular summer school class they offer apparently, and it’s overwhelming.
Wonderful, but a lot to take in.
I have no idea how I’ll take notes and people watch and learn anything when school actually begins, but I’m excited all the same.
At lunch, our group goes to the main cafeteria. I spend some of the money Henry gave me on a sandwich and a sparkling pineapple juice that feels like a real treat.
Finally, I go to the student newspaper office for a job interview. I think I do okay, but it’s hard to know.
When I get home at the end of the day, Henry teases me about being all tuckered out from excitement, and I blush. “It’s a weekly thing. I may need to go to all of them to prepare myself for being a full-time student.”
“You had fun, though, didn’t you?”
“Yep.”
“I’m glad.” He pushes a mug of hot chocolate into my hands. “Are you hungry? What did you eat for lunch?”
“A big sandwich.”
“I’ll make a snack tray for dinner, then.”
“Okay.” I take a slow sip of the cocoa, then yawn.
He wraps one arm around my shoulders and points me to the couch. “Go sit.”
I’d rather lean into his warmth. There’s something about the way his hand covers all of my upper arm that spikes a feeling that won’t go away. I want him to touch me all over.
I don’t move.
He sets both hands on my shoulders now and nudges me forward. It’s so inappropriate to turn an entirely innocent caretaking effort into something dirty in my head. He made me hot chocolate, for goodness sake. But I like the way he takes charge when I’m recalcitrant.
It makes me want to try being a bit of a brat with him. My mother always hated my lip, took it personally, and forced me to be a grown-up equal to her.
I bet Henry would be more indulgent than that.
You can’t lust after him and want him to take care of you like you’re a little kid. Obviously not. That would be deeply weird. Or would it?
He leaves me on the sofa, and I watch him stalk back to the kitchen, filled with the most delicious warmth that I don’t care if it’s weird. I like this feeling, and I want more of it.