“Your hair.” Lucky steps closer and reaches out to touch my hair but stops before he gets there. “You cut it.”
“I did.” And boy, was that a tough decision. I’ve had long hair my entire life, but one day this summer, I’d had an epiphany. The hair stylist called it a “sleek bob,” but that look only happens if I take the time to use the flat iron on it, which I don’t on most days. Days like today. So, mine is more of a messy bob. No matter, I love it. There’s just something about the act of changing one’s hair that gives us a new outlook on life. Plus, it’s liberating.
“It’s so curly.” Lucky seems mesmerized by my hair. I’d laugh if I weren’t a little mesmerized myself.
“I guess cutting off ten inches of hair will do that.”
“You look…”
I hold my breath because I’m a little afraid of what he’s going to say.
“Older.”
Could’ve been worse, I guess.
“Thanks?” I laugh a little.
Lucky smiles as he reaches out again and touches one of the curls next to my cheek. He pulls on it gently, then releases it, causing it to bounce back into place, sort of. “Beautiful.”
The pair of us stand in silence. Painful silence, honestly. I decide to end it before something bad happens. “Welp,” I say, clapping my hands once. “This homework isn’t going to do itself.”
“Joe mentioned you changed your major.”
Not a surprise that he’s talked to Joe. They’re best friends, after all.
“Yep. Secondary science education.”
“A teacher, huh?”
Shrugging, I adjust my slipping backpack. “Just like dear old dad.”
“I can see you teaching.”
That’s a nice thing to say.
Sort of absently, Lucky says, “You’ll have all the high school guys drooling over you.”
Shock. That’s why my mouth drops open and my eyes bug out. “Excuse me?”
Lucky must realize what he said was a bit strange. Is he blushing? “Sorry.”
A nervous laugh shoots out of my mouth. “Don’t be.” It’s a compliment, I suppose.
“You been at the gym? Smiths?” He gestures at my outfit. I’m wearing some workout gear. Actually, it’s the stuff I bought to go on my non-date with him.
“Uh, sort of.” I’m not sure if I should tell him. I guess it wouldn’t hurt. “I got a job there.”
“A job?” We make eye contact. “Doing what?”
“Teaching the 5:00 AM kickboxing class.” It was a shock to me too.
I guess all my effort over the summer really paid off, because the first class back at Smith’s Gym, the tyrannical little instructor approached me about taking over the class. At first, I thought she was joking, but she said, “You’ve come a long way, girl. I won’t be able to teach this timeslot anymore due to my full-time job. They’ve been looking for someone for a while. If you’re interested, head to the office for information. Tell them I sent you.”
I don’t know why, but I did it. I went to the office and asked. They had me go through three classes that constituted teacher training, and after those, I had the job. Answering Lucky, I smile. “Starting tomorrow, I’m the new kickboxing instructor for that early class.”
“Holy shit, Becklyn.” His smile is wide and sincere. I can tell. When he wraps his arms around me and draws me into a hug, I have to hold my breath. He still makes me feel all fluttery when he touches me. “That’s amazing. Congratulations.”
With my face pressed into his chest, I’m torn between saying “Thanks” and just sniffing him. Of course, I go with the former, but I get a little of the latter in there too.
