Chapter Ten
I drop into the padded salon chair, letting out a breath as Jay drapes a sleek black smock over my shoulders and snaps it into place. Almost immediately, his long fingers began running through my tangled hair, gently massaging my scalp. Honestly, it was the absolute best feeling in the entire world.
“I’m definitely going to lift your roots,” Jay muses, tilting my head back slightly to examine the strands. “They’re getting a little dark. Then we’ll do a nice, deep conditioning wash, and chop most of this dead weight off.”
My eyes widen slightly in the mirror. “Most of it?”
“Darling, trust me, you are going to look absolutely stunning with shorter hair,” Jay states with a confident wink. “Just trust the master.”
I nod, choosing to surrender my pride to the professional, and watch him through the glass as he began mixing lightener in a plastic bowl. “So... you and Bear are actual twins?”
“Identical,” he hums, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Total polar opposites, though, right?”
“Yeah, completely,” I laugh, trying to imagine Bear with Jay’s vibrant, theatrical energy.
“He’s always been on the quiet side,” Jay says, his tone softening just a fraction as he brings the brush over and began painting the formula onto my roots. “But it only got worse after he went away. You can’t even casually touch him now without him completely freaking out. He’s the one who has to initiate it.”
My heart squeezes slightly at the mention of his time behind bars. “Why does he freak out like that?” I ask, relaxing into the chair as the cool product spread over my scalp.
Jay let out a sharp, dark chuckle. “Well, if you’ve ever watched a single prison documentary, you’d know exactly how many guys try to force themselves on you in a place like that.”
A cold shudder ran straight down my spine. “Oh my god... that’s horrible,” I whisper, the harsh reality of Bear’s past hitting me all over again.
“Too bad I wasn’t the one who went to prison,” Jay murmurs under his breath, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “I absolutely love getting fucked up the ass.”
He instantly winces, throwing his hands up in mock apology. “Shit! Sorry, sorry. I have a terribly dark sense of humor.”
I burst out giggling, the sheer absurdity of his delivery cutting right through the tension. He smiles brightly back at me through the mirror, clearly pleased with himself.
“Is there... anything else I should know about him?” I question hesitantly.
“Do you know his actual name?” Jay asks, expertly weaving his comb through my sections.
“I do,” I reply. “But honestly, I think ‘Bear’ completely suits him with all the constant grumbling and growling.”
Jay let out a loud, dramatic giggle. “How do you reckon our parents came up with that middle name? The boy came out of the womb literally making that exact noise.”
We both laugh together, the sound echoing through the stylish space. In the reflection of the giant mirror, I could see Mac sitting a few stations over, casually sipping a coffee while a technician worked on her nails.
A sudden realization struck me. “Hey, Mac?” I call out across the salon. “The other day, when Bear cut you off... were you about to say you’re his parole officer?”
Mac didn’t even look up from her manicure, merely nodding her head. “Yeah, exactly. I specifically requested his case file because I knew he would absolutely lose his mind if they assigned him a stranger.”
“Wait, if he hates meeting new people that much, why on earth did he put out an ad for a roommate?” I question, entirely bewildered.
Mac finally looks up, biting her bottom lip with a guilty grin. “Well... technically, I put the ad out.”
“What?!”
“I set it up,” she confesses, turning her chair toward me. “I told him you were coming to look at the spare room. To be totally fair, I thought you were a dude.”
“Because of my nickname, I know,” I deadpan.
“Hey, I guess he must’ve really liked you, though,” Mac shrugs, leaning back in her seat. “Because he actually took you in and immediately went out to get you bedroom furniture.”
Jay let out a loud scoff, flipping a section of my hair over. “And don’t forget about him getting that guy entirely beaten up—the one who ditched you on your first date.”
My eyes nearly pop out of my head. I whip my neck around, totally forgetting about the wet bleach. “Bear did what?!”
Jay squeaks, quickly pulling the brush back. “Oh... you didn’t know?”
“No!” I gasp, my heart hammering against my ribs. “You mean Adrian?!”
“Worse yet, he could literally be thrown straight back into a cell if anyone found out he was out here hitting people,” Mac chimes in, her tone turning uncharacteristically serious. “Let alone pulling strings and getting other people to do the heavy lifting for him.”
A wave of hot, frustrated anger flared in my chest. “He is so unbelievably stupid,” I hiss, clenching my fists beneath the smock.
Two Hour Later...
“And... all done!” Jay yells theatrically, dropping his hairdryer and spinning my chair around to face the mirror with a flourish.
I gasp, my hands immediately flying to my face as I take in the reflection. It was absolutely breathtaking. The dead, damaged length was completely gone, replaced by a chic, shoulder-length cut. Jay had melted the colors into a flawless ombre, transitioning seamlessly from my rich natural brown at the roots into a bright, honey blonde at the tips. The sharp, texturized layers framed my face perfectly, making my eyes pop.
“It’s amazing,” I awe, running my fingers through the bouncy layers and fluffing them up.
“Thank you, thank you,” Jay says, dramatically flipping his own imaginary long hair over his shoulder. “I know I’m a genius.”
Mac strolls over, looking at my hair with an approving nod. “You look gorgeous, Danny. Want to hit the back room and get a tattoo to celebrate?”
“Maybe next time,” I chuckle, gathering my things.
I stand up and walk over to the sleek marble counter with Jay. “Alright, what do I owe you?”
“That’ll be fifty bucks,” he chirps, tapping the screen.
I blink at him. “Jay, that is insanely cheap for a color and a cut. Let me pay the full price.”
“Nope,” he pops the ‘p’ decisively. “You’re a friend now, and friends pay the fifty-dollar family discount. End of discussion.”
A warm smile spreads across my face. “Okay. Thank you.”
I hand him the cash, and he quickly processes it through the system. As he closes the register, he leans over the counter with a wicked glint in his eye. “We need to arrange a girls’ night very soon. Meaning, you invite me and Mac over to your place so we can get absolutely white girl wasted.”
I giggle. “Oh, definitely. I’m so down.”
“Have you ever seen Mitchell drunk?” Jay whispers conspiratorially.
“No,” I answer, leaning in.
“It is quite literally the best show on earth,” Jay murmurs.
“I will definitely keep that in mind,” I laugh.
“See you later, Danny!” he yells, suddenly leaping over the low counter with terrifying agility and wrapping me in a tight hug.
“See you, Jay.”
----
By the time I unlock the door to apartment 4F, the sun had completely set. I walk into the kitchen, tossing a stack of Bear’s mail onto the counter, and froze. Delicious, rich aromas were wafting through the air. Sitting right in the center of the table was a beautifully prepared dinner, covered to keep it warm.
Resting right beside the plate was a small, neatly folded piece of paper. I pick it up, a helpless giggle escaping my lips as I read the blocky, neat handwriting.
Daniella,
Dinner is lamb casserole.
Enjoy.
“He is so incredibly dorky,” I mumble to myself, my heart doing a stupid little flip.
I sit down and entirely devour the meal—it was delicious, of course—before washing up my dishes and heading into the living room. I stretch out across the couch and clicked on the TV, putting on the movie Baywatch.
Objectively speaking, Zac Efron was incredibly hot on screen. But as I watch him run across the beach, my mind kept drifting back to the narrow hallway of our apartment. Yeah, Zac’s great, but he’s honestly got nothing on Bear.
Suddenly, the front door violently slams open. I didn’t even flinch; at this point, I was entirely accustomed to Bear treating every doorframe like an enemy combatant.
God, I wish he’d slam me like that.
Whoa. Not right now, Danny. Get a grip.
I shake the thoughts from my head and sit up, turning to look over the back of the couch. “Hey, I wanted to say thank you for—”
The words die instantly in my throat. I gasp, my stomach violently dropping to my shoes as the living room light illuminates his face. Bear was standing in the entryway, his knuckles freshly bruised, but his face... his face was completely smashed up. A deep cut was bleeding heavily over his eyebrow, his lip was split wide open, and his left cheekbone was already swelling into a nasty, dark purple bruise.
“Bear—” I start, scrambling off the couch.
"Don’t." he growls. The word was thick, laced with a terrifying amount of pain and exhaustion.
Before I could take a single step toward him, he storms right down the hallway into his bedroom, throwing the door shut with a deafening bang that rattled the picture frames on the walls.
That is it. I am done.
I was entirely sick of this routine. He couldn’t just throw himself into the line of fire for me and then completely lock me out the second things got emotional or painful.
I march down the hallway, stop right in front of his door, and began aggressively banging my fists against the solid wood. “Let me in, Bear!” I yell. “Open the door right now!”
“Fuck off, Danny!” he shouts back, his voice muffled but furious.
“I’m not going anywhere! I’m going to keep doing this all night until you open up!”
“Don’t care!”
I let out a heavy, frustrated sigh, refusing to back down. I turn around, leaning my back against the wood of his door, and kept up a steady, rhythmic knocking with the back of my hand.
Suddenly, the latch clicks. The door vanishes from behind me so fast I didn’t even have time to react. I let out a sharp squeak as I fell backward, landing flat on my ass right on his threshold.
I wince, pushing myself up on my elbows, and glare fiercely up at Bear. He was hovering over me, looking down with a dangerous, icy glare of his own.
“Get up,” he orders, his jaw clenching.
“Honestly, I’m perfectly fine down here,” I huff stubbornly, violently crossing my arms over my chest and refusing to move.
Bear let out a low, irritated growl. He steps right over my torso, bending down to wrap his large hands around my ankles, and began pulling me backward out into the hallway.
“Hey! Stop it!” I yell. I scramble, reaching out blindly until my fingers securely catches the wooden frame of his door, anchoring myself to the floorboards so he couldn’t drag me away.
As I hang on for dear life, my head shifts, and I finally got my very first clear look at the inside of his bedroom.
The “no-no zone.”
It was incredibly dark—very classic Bear. The walls were a deep, muted charcoal, and his large bed was neatly made with dark blue satin sheets. In the corner sat a heavy set of iron weights, and right beside his bed was a nightstand completely cluttered with various tubes of medical ointments and prescription bottles. But despite how mysterious he acted about it, there was nothing scary in here. There was nothing so bad that I felt like I shouldn’t be allowed inside.
Bear suddenly releases his grip on my ankles, making me land with a dull oomph against the floor.
I quickly scramble to my feet, brushing off my sweatpants, and look up at him. Bear was standing completely still in the center of the dim room, staring down at me. I could almost see the gears violently turning in his head, his emerald eyes dark and unreadable.
In that heavy, suffocating silence, a sudden realization hit me. Looking at the raw tension in his shoulders, it felt like he was entirely torn between two options: he either wanted to murder me on the spot, or he wanted to hurt me in a completely different, dangerous way.
And looking at his bruised, devastating face, neither of those options felt entirely safe.