Falling for My Best Friend (Fated #1) (9 page)

“You’re like my guardian angel,” I said. “What even made you
stop by so randomly?”

“Actually, I thought you might give me a much needed haircut.”

I looked at his mess of thick hair. “I suppose you could use
one, but I thought you had a barber you liked?”

“He messed up my sideburns last time. He’s dead to me.”

“Yikes,” I said. “Not exactly a low stakes proposition then.”

“I have faith in you,” he said. “But I don’t expect you to do it
now. Not after all that and when you’re upset. We can do it another time.”

“Don’t be silly,” I said. “I’m honored that you finally asked me
to do it. I wouldn’t dare pass up this opportunity.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yeah, the distraction will be good for me. It’ll help me calm
down.”

“Working will help you calm down?”

I nodded and lowered my voice. “Plus, I’d rather spend a few
minutes with just you right now. When I go home Fiona’s going to get all wound
up when I tell her what happened. You’d actually be helping me out.”

“Enough said.” He stood up and looked around the empty salon.
“Where do you want me?”

I swallowed and stood up. “Do you want a dry cut or a shampoo
first?”

“I want the full experience.”

I smiled. “Okay, right this way.” I stood next to the chair in
front of the basin. “Have a seat here.”

Aiden looked funny in the chair. He was much bigger than my
average client.

I walked over to the shelves at the back of the room and grabbed
a black, silk smock. Then I stood behind him again and reached around his head,
draping it over him. His neck was too big for the clasps so while I held it
shut with one hand, I pulled some bobby pins out of my hair. Two large wisps fell
around my face as I put them between my lips. Then I made an x with the pins so
the smock wouldn’t slip.

Next, I grabbed a hand towel from under the basin and laid it
over his shoulders.

“Remember the last time I let you cut my hair?” he asked,
pulling the ends of the towel and turning towards me.

I grabbed a wash cloth and laid it in the basin’s neck rest. “I
can’t believe you’re bringing that up right now.”

“I hope the practice you’ve gotten since then will show in the
final product.”

“Lay back,” I said, holding the washcloth still while he lowered
his head down into the sink.

“You told me all the kids on the playground were going to be
asking for that cut when they saw it.”

I pulled the nozzle out and turned the water on, keeping it away
from his head. “To be honest, I still don’t understand why the ear to ear
Mohawk hasn’t caught on.”

“You have to be pretty confident to pull that off.”

“And your face has to be just the right shape or it doesn’t
work.”

He laughed. “Agreed.”

I held the stream of water against my wrist and waited for it to
heat up. I wanted it to be warm, but not too hot. The salon was warm enough
already.

I pointed the jet at his head, shielding the backsplash with my
hand. “Is that too hot?”

“No, it’s perfect,” he said, closing his eyes.

From where I was standing, it looked like his dark eyelashes
reached all the way to the apples of his cheeks. I grabbed one chunk of his soft
hair at a time, making sure to wet it down to the scalp. Then I lifted my thumb
from the button on the nozzle, slipped it back into its holster, and reached
for some shampoo, releasing two pumps into my hand.

“Please don’t make me smell like a woman,” he said, his eyes
popping open.

I laughed. “You’ve never smelled like a woman a day in your life.”

“Was that a jab?”

“Not at all.”

“You know what I mean though?”

“I’m using the most masculine stuff we have, I promise,” I said,
warming the shampoo in my hands. “In fact, there are hops in it.”

“Like in beer?”

“Exactly.”

“Maybe you could give me a glass of it while I relax.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “But if you’d like tea or coffee,
that I can do.”

“Alright. I’ll let you know if I get thirsty.”

“Please do.” I lowered my sudsy hands against his head and
started working the lather against his scalp with my fingertips.

“Oh my god.”

“Is that too hard?” I asked, stopping for a moment.

“Not at all. That feels amazing.”

I smiled. “I’m glad.”

“And here I thought I was good with my hands.”

“I’m not sure it’s the same,” I said, kneading my fingers in
tiny circles. “My hands don’t actually have the power to heal like yours do.”

“I’m going to have to disagree with you there.”

I felt my chest swell every time I glanced at the wide smile on
his face. Once his head was good and soapy, I depressed the button on the
nozzle and rinsed the shampoo from his hair.

“Please tell me we get to do that again.”

I laughed and reached for the conditioner. “Yeah, we get to do
it one more time.” I pumped the cold conditioner in my hand and started to warm
it between my palms. “I’ll try to make it count.”

“Excellent.” 

I wrapped my hands around his head and began working the
conditioner through to the ends of his hair.

“Does anyone blatantly moan while you do this?”

“No,” I said, digging my fingers into his scalp. “Customers
generally refrain from moaning.”

“That must be so awkward for them, wanting to moan so bad but
not wanting to freak you out.”

“And yet somehow, they always manage.” I slipped my fingers around
to the back of his head, dragging my nails up and down.

“Does anyone come in just for this?”

“You mean just to get their hair washed?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“I’m not aware of that ever happening.”

“I have to be honest. I’m second guessing my whole approach
now.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, massaging his hairline.

“Well, I was going to ask you to cut a decent amount off, but
now I’m thinking I’ll just ask for half a trim.”

“Half a trim?”

“Yeah, that way I can come in next week and do this again.”

I shook my head. No one had ever made such a big fuss about
getting shampooed. Granted, I was putting in a little more effort because it was
Aiden, but a wash was a wash. “I’ll cut your hair however you want, and I’d be
happy to do this for you anytime.”

“Seriously?”

“Sure.”

“Cause this is better than Christmas, Lucy.”

I rolled my eyes. “I mean, it will have to be our little secret.
I don’t want you showing up with the whole rugby team so I have to wash two
dozen sweaty heads, but I don’t mind doing it for you.”

“I might have to take you up on that. This is officially my new
favorite way to unwind.”

I rinsed the conditioner out of his hair slowly, taking my time.
I don’t know what it was, but there was something comforting about having my
hands on him, about having an excuse to touch him without it being weird.

“Oh no. It’s over, isn’t it?”

“Only until next time,” I said, lowering a towel under his head
and nudging him upright again.

I stepped in front of him and gave his head a thorough towel dry
while he looked down at the floor.

When I pulled the towel away from his mess of wet hair, he
looked up at me smiling.

And I felt my stomach drop to the floor.

She had me tingling all over when she was washing my hair. It
felt weird to feel that good and know the feeling was because of Lucy.

When she was massaging my head, I almost told her I wished she
could wash me all over like that. Thank god I caught myself. That would’ve been
totally inappropriate...

Almost as inappropriate as the feeling I had in my dick when she
was doing it.

Of course, I always thought she was pretty, but I never thought
scabby kneed Lucy with the potty mouth and the biggest super soaker on the
block would cause chills to run up my spine like that.

But maybe when I wasn’t paying attention, she stopped being that
Lucy. For example, there was nothing scabby about her knees now. I was looking
right at them while she towel dried my hair.

When she stopped, I looked up and smiled.

For a second she just stared at me, almost like she’d never seen
me before, and then she swallowed and took a step back, tucking a stray wisp of
hair behind her ears. “Right this way please,” she said, pointing her palm to
the chair across the floor.

I followed her over and took a seat.

She grabbed a comb off the counter and walked behind the chair,
looking at me through the mirror. “So how much shorter did you want it?”

I shrugged. “You’re the expert. What do you think?”

She pursed her lips and started combing it back. “I don’t think
I should cut it too short. I like when it’s long enough that it still has a bit
of wave to it.”

“You mean you like my flow?”

She smiled. “Yeah. In fact, I’m kind of jealous.”

“But you have gorgeous hair.”

She looked away from the mirror and back at my head, her cheeks
blushing. “It doesn’t do any tricks like yours though. It just hangs there.”

“Is that why you’re always messing with it?”

“Yeah, cause it’s boring.”

“There’s nothing boring about you.”

She gave me a look like she didn’t totally agree. Then she
leaned forward and put the comb on the counter before reaching for a pair of
scissors. I didn’t mean to look down her shirt through the mirror, but it was
too late. By the time she stood up, I’d already seen the way her bra cradled
her round breasts inside the darkness of her shirt.

Worst of all, I would’ve looked again if I’d had the chance.

“So I’ll just cut about an inch off so your hair will feel nice
and healthy, and if you want it shorter, we can always cut more off.”

“Sounds good,” I said.

She put her fingers flat against my temples and tilted my head
so it was centered.

Then she started taking one piece of my hair at a time, dragging
it between her fingers, and snipping across them, causing tuft after tuft to
fall to the floor.

At first I just watched her. In fact, I couldn’t take my eyes
off her. She was always so relaxed around me, but this was a totally different
Lucy. She was confident and disciplined, and her face was full of
concentration. It seemed a shame to interrupt her adorable focus, but again, I
wanted the full experience.

“So is this the part where I confess all my dirty secrets and
you listen and pretend you’re not going to gossip about me with the rest of the
staff?” I asked.

She smiled as she grabbed the next chunk of my hair. “This is exactly
that part.”

“What kind of stuff to people normally tell you?”

She shrugged, never taking her eyes off my head. “There aren’t
as many dirty secrets as I’d like. Most people just want the luxury of ranting
to someone who’s outside their life cause it’s safe and there’s no judgment.”

“Really? No judgment? Ever?”

“Well, not to their face,” she said. “That wouldn’t be
professional.”

“You must love it though. You wouldn’t go out of your way to
touch stranger’s heads unless you did.”

She laughed. “I don’t really think about it that way.”

“How do you think about it?”

“I think about it as making people feel good. Like I get to fit
them with the only accessory that they’re going to wear every day. If I do a
good job, it makes people happy and it boosts their confidence.” She worked her
way around to the side of my head. “I’m not a miracle worker or anything. I
can't fix people’s biggest problems or make the world a safer place, but even
on a bad day, I can usually make at least one person feel a little better.”

“And who knows how far that good feeling will stretch.”

“Oh good,” she said. “I thought I was rambling there, but you
get it. I mean, I know there are people with more important jobs, but I get a
lot of satisfaction from doing this.”

“I think that’s great, Luce. I admire you for following your
passion. I think too many people let others beat their dreams out of them.”

“I try not to make time for people like that,” she said. “Plus, in
my experience, the people that most resent other people’s dreams are usually
those that have strayed furthest from their own.”

She was a wise little firecracker, my friend Lucy. I don’t know
why, but hearing her speak so self-assuredly about her life’s direction really
inspired me. It made me want to spend more time with people like her.

Then again, maybe she was one of a kind.

She walked in front of me and put the scissors on the counter.
Then she turned towards me, grabbed a piece of hair on each side, and pulled
them down.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Just making sure the sides are even,” she said, grabbing
another two pieces.

And then I shamelessly looked down her shirt again.

She sprang up instantly and looked at me. “Did you just look
down my shirt?”

I couldn’t tell if she was mad. “There was nowhere else to
look.”

She shook her head. “You could’ve closed your eyes or
something.”

“But then I wouldn’t have gotten to see your black bra.”

Her mouth fell open and her eyes went wide. “Shame on you, Aiden
Briggs. Looking down my shirt is not part of the full experience.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I won’t do it again.”

“Good.”

“Why would I when all I have to do is close my eyes and-”

She smacked me in the arm. “Don’t you dare.”

I laughed. “Oh my god. I’ve never seen your face so red.”

She glared at me and walked back behind the chair before bending
down carefully and pulling the hair dryer out of its cubby.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” I said.

She cocked her head and looked at me through the mirror. “I know
I don’t,” she said, lifting the hair dryer over my head. “You’re the one that
should be embarrassed.”

I opened my mouth to speak but she turned the hair dryer on,
drowning out the sound of any comeback I might’ve thought of. I considered
telling her to relax, that I’d seen them before, but boobs weren’t like that.

As far as I was concerned, they didn’t fall into the whole
“you’ve seen them once you’ve seen them all” category. They were different.
Every set was different. Every breast was different. And looking down a woman’s
shirt was never enough. Any man would want to see more, and I was no different.

In fact, not only did I want to see Lucy’s breasts again, but I
wanted to see her black bra again. And for the first time in my life, I
wondered what it might be like to discover she was wearing it just for me.

On purpose.

I watched her work her fingers through my hair as she dried it,
never once letting the fact that I’d embarrassed her interfere with her
professionalism.

When she was done, she slung the hairdryer back in its pocket
and stood up, obviously committed to pretending my brief transgression never
happened. 

“Well?” she asked. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s by far the best hair cut I’ve ever gotten.”

“Wipe that smile off your face, Aiden. I mean it.”

She unhooked my cape thingy and shook it over the floor before dropping
it in a hamper at the back of the room.

I stood up and leaned towards the mirror, running my fingers
through my hair.

“It looks good,” she said. “I’m glad we did that. It’s a much
better way to end my day.”

I clenched my jaw thinking of her sleazy boss. “How much do I
owe you?” I asked, taking out my wallet.

“Nothing,” she said. “I don’t want your money.”

“That’s not fair, c’mon. You know I’m good for it.”

“You can pay me by giving me a ride home,” she said, sweeping my
hair into a pile with her foot.

“Can I at least help you clean up?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll worry about it in the morning. Chuck won’t
say shit to me about it after today.”

“Your call.” Suddenly the thought of saying goodbye to Lucy and
going home to Chelsea made a lump catch in my throat. “Maybe I could treat you
to dinner? It would be a shame not to go out and show off your fine work.”

“I can’t,” she said, grabbing her purse from her station. “I
asked Fiona to get a pizza for me, remember?”

I opened the door for her and followed her out onto the
sidewalk.

“You can come back for a slice if you want,” she said, locking
the door to the salon.

“No, it’s cool. I’ll leave you guys to it,” I said, wondering
what would set Chelsea off more: me having dinner at Lucy’s or coming home
smelling like deep dish?

Lucy changed the radio station as soon as she got in the car.

I smiled. “You know you’re the only woman who gets to do that?”

“Why? Because I’m the only woman with better taste in music than
you?”

“Pretty much,” I said, accelerating through a green light.

“So I heard they’re opening a new ice cream parlor off the Brown
Line,” she said. “It’s one of those places where they freeze the ice cream into
little balls.”

“We should go check it out.”

“I’ll figure out when the grand opening is and let you know.”

“Sounds good,” I said, pulling up outside her place.

She reached down to grab her purse off the floor.

“Thanks again for the hair cut,” I said. “I really appreciate
it.”

“No problem. Thanks for the ride… and for saving my ass
earlier.”

“Anytime.”

She smiled and got out, digging in her purse for her keys as she
crossed the sidewalk.

As usual, I waited for her to unlock the door and waved as she
let herself in.

But something was different this time.