“Yeah, of course…but I do want to set the expectation that I’m not sure if I’m ready for anything deeper than fun right now. Is that okay?” I can at least be honest with the man who has helped me so much. I don’t tell him that if I was going to choose anyone to be serious about in Hallows Cove, it would one hundred percent be him, but I don’t want to get his hopes up in case I have to pull back.
“Without a doubt, I’m happy to do whatever makes you comfortable.”
“I trust you.” I smile as I grab his hand. His warm palm envelops my fingers, and he just lets that perma-smile melt intosomething lazier as he looks at our clasped hands. “What should I wear?”
“Anything, it’s just a super casual hang at the bar in town. Be comfortable, because it doesn't matter what you wear, I’m sure you’ll look amazing. Meet me here in three hours?” he asks.
I nod in reply, and he drops my hand reluctantly and heads back out the door to his own cabin.
A fluttering feeling sticks in my belly as I realize that I’m excited for tonight. A date, a new laptop for school, and someone who thinks the sun shines out of my ass? Things are shaping up for once in my life. I won’t let this happiness, no matter how small, pass me by.
Chapter fifteen
Andri
Shit,fuck,dammit.
What have I done?
I swipe at the foggy mirror and get a look at myself as I comb my fingers to the place my hair used to be. Now in its place is what almost feels like peach fuzz, the hair on my head having been completely buzzed by the clairvoyant stylist at Deja Hairdo. I hope, for all that’s holy, that she’s a better psychic than a beautician because she’s completely butchered me.
I didn’t say anything after she was done, but she knew as soon as I saw myself in the mirror that I hated it. I lied though, I told her I felt great. But as soon as I got home, I hopped into the shower in the hopes that maybe it was just some trick of the light or a bad product she used. But dripping here in front of the bathroom sink, I know that what I saw is what actually is.
The most upsetting part of this whole predicament is that I actually am having a fit about myhairof all things. I know why I suddenly give a shit about my appearance, and the fact that I’mgoing to take her on a date tonight doesn’t make that realization any easier.
I scrub my hand over the tiny soft hairs and sigh. It’s not like I could grow a new mop in the next hour. So instead I focus on the thing I do have control over—my clothing.
The only clothing store in Hallows’ Cove is the thrift store. I know a lot of people would think “hey, that’s great!”
But not me, I know that pickins are gonna be slim. Cutoffs, while not the most fashionable, are sensible. My waist fits into the larger end of most human men’s clothing, but my legs dwarf even the big and tall options in length. So rather than rock a pair of capris, I cut the denim off above the knee. Sure, it’s not warm, but to be honest I wouldn’t need the clothing, anyway.
But a date with Daphne feels more important than something you would wear a pair of jorts to.
The only thing my raccoon shifter friend who owns the shop could find was a pair of gray joggers. I think they must have been a scrunched style, because there’s blessedly enough inseam to hit my ankle. They’re serving just a little bit fancier than sweatpants, but they’re worlds better than my shorts.
Smoothing my hands down the jersey fabric, I take a deep breath and look in the mirror. If I had a matching jacket and gold chain, I’d look like one of the Slavic teens that visited last season. Great, I look like a wannabe Russian gangster.
The alarm I set on my phone goes off, and I have to push down the rising panic again. It’s time to leave, and there’s nothing more that can be done to help me. I go to the kitchen, grab a bottle of something brown, and take a swig.
You’re a snowMAN, quit acting like a snowBABY.
With a little liquid courage, I soldier on to pick up my date.
I’m prepared to meet her at her door, but when I walk up to the main entrance to the chalet, she’s already ready to go. She’sbundled up in her ski jacket, black leggings, and snow boots. In her hands she has two cups of something hot and steamy.
“Hey, you.” She cocks her head and drags her gaze from toe to tip to really assess my disastrous appearance. “Did you cut your hair?” She tries to look unaffected.
“Let’s just say I won’t be going to Deja Hairdoagain,” I sigh.
“It’s just hair, I wouldn’t worry too much about it. I didn’t realize you would even be the type of person to get a haircut…since your hair is kind of, you know, all over?”
“Well, my mane grows slowly, but it still grows more than the rest of me. Honestly? I was just trying to impress you.” I feel like every attempt I’ve made to improve myself for her has gone to shit—I might as well be honest with her.
“First, take this hot cocoa.” She passes me the warm paper cup. “And second…you already impress me, silly. No haircut or pants are gonna change that!” She bops her hip against my thigh playfully when referencing my new digs. The soft part of her side presses up against my own.
“You noticed my evening sweatpants, eh?” I laugh, loving this bit of extra closeness she’s giving me.
“Yeah, I noticed them.” She drops her gaze again, and I take a swig from the cup she’s given me and let the sweet liquid warm my chest. I offer her my arm, and she takes it enthusiastically.
