I crossed my arms. "Okay, but what if I do?"
Fabian's sharp gaze didn't waver. Were his eyes always such a bright shade of amber? They were almost golden.
"I don't believe you," Fabian shot back. "There's no way you can store so much hate in that little body."
I snorted. "Little body? I'm not that much shorter than you."
Fabian stared at me for a moment, then shook his head. When he opened his eyes, the golden colour had gone back to a deep amber. "Yes. You're right." He sat back with a sigh and pinched the bridge of his distinctive nose. "How about this? Why don't you tell me what you would like in a makeover?" He held up a finger. "Things that are not acceptable answers: number one, sayingno comment." Another finger joined it. "Number two, saying you don't want a makeover."
I held up a third finger for him. "How about three: I let you cut off the tiniest sliver of my hair, then you leave the rest of it alone."
He huffed, drawing up his posture in a way that reminded me of a flustered falcon. "Unacceptable. I need to cut off at least a million tiny slivers."
"Then I'll be bald."
"You will not be bald."
Now I was just fucking with him. "You're literally going to shave my head."
His eyes blazed golden again. How was he doing that? Probably some contacts or something.
"Stan Smith, if I wanted to shave your head, I would've pinned you down and done it by now," Fabian retorted. "Which, by the way, I'm getting dangerously close to doing. Rudy, where is my electric razor?"
I grinned. I felt smug that I'd been badgering him for so long, since I enjoyed our banter more than I thought I would. "Rudy went home hours ago, remember? We're the only two people here."
Fabian glanced around the studio, noticing that it was empty. The sun was also setting as the time approached early evening. Maybe the orange glow was what I was seeing reflected in Fabian's randomly glowing eyes.
Fabian rubbed his temple. "Yes, you're right. And you've been avoiding my attempts for hours now. Perhaps it's time to call it a day."
The words should've excited me. That meant I finally got to go home, and that the first day of this dreadful week was over. But I felt no enthusiasm, just a weird tinge of disappointment instead.
Fabian stood from his seat and pulled the phone from his back pocket. He'd had it on silent mode this whole time, saying he didn't want to be disturbed while we discussed the brief. I watched him swipe away a million notifications without even reading them, then he called the limo driver.
After a brief conversation, he pocketed the phone. "Daniel will be here soon. I apologize for keeping you so late. I usually don't lose track of time like this."
I shrugged. "It's okay. I don't mind."
Fabian quirked an eyebrow. "Oh? I thought you'd rather be anywhere else."
I bristled at being called out. "I mean, the crap we’re talking about bores me to tears, but…"
Fabian grinned. "But what?"
God dammit, I felt my cheeks heating up. Why did they keep doing this? I swear I'd never blushed so many times one day in my life.
"I don't know," I mumbled. "Being here isn't that bad."
Fabian brightened instantly. I liked seeing him so happy. Which was stupid, because I barely knew him. Except I felt that I did—which was even freaking stupider, because I’d only met him this morning, so why did he feel like a long lost friend?
I didn't know where all these idiotic thoughts came from. Being forced to talk about fashion and hairstyles and whatever must have turned my brain into goo. A good night's sleep would fix me.
We piled into the limo, the driver punched in my address into the GPS, and we set off. The drive wasn't as uncomfortable as the first time. Now that I actually allowed myself to sink into the comfort of the leather seats and enjoy the abundant leg room.
"Is this your first time in a limo?" Fabian asked.
"No, it's my second. I lost my limo virginity this morning, remember?"
Fabian chuckled. He had a nice laugh, and it felt good to make him smile. I didn't know if it was because he was a celebrity or not. I decided not to think about it too hard.
