But it didn’t feel like nothing when Kirstin finally looked up and smiled that same slow, knowing smile. The one that used to make Alix’s knees weak. For a second, her brain short-circuited. The sound of the blow dryers faded and the salon blurred. All she could think about was that one night they had stayed tangled until morning, Alix half-asleep while Kirstin traced the ink onher arm like she was memorizing it. It was stupid to remember that. It was stupid to feel anything now.
It wasn’t like they’d met at a bar. They’d met here, under these lights, over this linoleum. Vince had called out hungover one morning, and Alix had stepped in. She’d given Kirstin the cut of her life, sharp and sleek, and an hour later they’d been pressed against the break room wall, mouths hot, hands greedy.
Now Kirstin strolled in like nothing had happened, like she hadn’t turned Alix’s world sideways and then walked away.
Alix finished rinsing, jaw tight. She smoothed her apron, squared her shoulders, and walked back onto the floor with the kind of grin she wore like armor.
“Kirstin,” Alix said lightly, as though her insides weren’t boiling. “Didn’t expect to see you today.”
Kirstin’s eyes glittered. “Just needed a trim.” She raked her gaze up and down Alix’s body.
Alix’s laugh was low, practiced. “Right. Silly me. How could I ever forget how much you love that fuck-ass bob?”
Kirstin tilted her head, lips curving. “You always did remember the important things.”
The smirk on Kirstin’s face made Alix want to scream, but instead she glanced away with a disinterested expression. Only when she slipped into the break room did she let the mask drop, phone already in her hand.
Grace’s thread glowed at the top. She typed before she could think.
Alix
My ex just walked in like a horror movie jump scare.
The reply came fast.
Grace
Do I need to call security, or is this the part where you get to pretend you don’t care?
Alix bit her lip, thumbs flying.
Alix
Pretend, obviously. Except my stomach just did a triple axel and landed flat on its ass.
Grace
Sounds athletic. Gold medal worthy.
Alix huffed a laugh, leaning against the counter.
Alix
Why do I feel so small? Like… she’s not even better than me. Just shinier. And I’m… here, cutting rich women’s hair, and she’s some bigwig creative director at a marketing agency making up ads for Pepsi.
The words sat there heavier than she meant them to.
The typing bubble appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Grace
Shiny doesn’t last. Trust me, I live in Miami. It rusts, chips, and eventually peels.
Alix chewed her bottom lip, watching the dots appear again for a long time.
Grace
She can be fake and shallow and shiny all she wants. You’re the one people actually like being around. Even if you don’t always see it first.
