His lips crashed into mine, passion inflamed. His hands traveled my body, stopping short of anywhere we weren’t ready to go.
My hands drifted to his shaggy blond hair. I traced my fingers behind his ears and to the back of his neck, leaving chills in their wake.
His hands landed on my hips, and with a bit of a crouch, he picked me up by my thighs and carried me over to the couch.
We spent the rest of the evening talking about our futures, desires, and dreams. We peppered the conversation with kisses and caresses. I acted like a high school girl getting to know her first crush. He was sweet and romantic, and his caresses left me with an unquenchable thirst.Definitely, not just friends.
I spent Tuesday partly obsessing over the kiss and what it meant, and trying to get Todd to cough up the answer to my problem of who to choose. I wanted to passionately kiss all of them. Only, Arch had yet to kiss me. Once I exhausted Todd’s patience, I sat and stewed over whether or not I was immoral to want kisses from three different men.
In the end, I decided I didn’t care if I’d be sent to the flaming pits of hell; I wanted those kisses and the opportunity to get to know the guys giving them. Normalcy be damned.
I spent Wednesday at a spa with Todd. We were scrubbed, polished, buffed, and steamed before my big night in a beautiful dress.
Thursday, I gave in. “Todd. Are you busy today?” I called him bright and early.
“Not really. I was gonna deep clean the laundry room.” He sounded bored.
“Come dye my hair.” Silence. “Todd?”
“Are you serious?” he whispered.
“Yes. I’m ready.” I’d begun to enjoy the more girly things in life. I didn’t even mind doing my makeup every day.
“I’ll be up in thirty minutes. We’ll go to the beauty supply store.” His voice was extra high-pitched in excitement.
I scurried about and managed to be ready, albeit with wet hair, when he arrived.
We forgot about the frequently present society reporters and took my car to the store. Once they recognized my car, one ran for his own vehicle. “Shit,” I muttered.
The reporter didn’t disappoint. He managed to follow us to the store, and the next morning there were pictures of me with my damp hair. The headline read, “Wet Hair; Don’t Care.” The article was surprising. It complimented me for joining in the fresh-faced, makeup-free Hollywood trend; even though, I was wearing makeup. Thank you to Todd’s barely there regime.
We spent the day putting highlights and lowlights in my hair. When Todd turned the blow dryer off on my completed ‘do, I couldn’t stop staring at myself in the mirror. The change was subtle but impactful, like everything else he’d done.
“Kitten, I keep telling you! You’re already beautiful. The changes I’ve always wanted to make are simply enhancements, not true changes.” We stared at my new hair in my bathroom mirror.
He touched my cheek. “Your makeup, if done right, makes your skin glow and your eyes pop.” He curled a lock of my hair around his finger. “Your hair, when fixed, is more professional and like you care about yourself. And now the color gives your skin a warm tone and makes your hair shinier and sleeker.”
I turned and hugged him. “I’m still me. I still feel like me. I’ll still wear the comfy clothes more often than not, though.” I stared into the mirror. With the blond highlights, and the small changes to my face, I could glimpse my mom gazing back at me.
Todd burst out laughing. “I have no doubt about that. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
In time to save my sanity, Friday appeared. The week had been fun and nerve wracking, but it trudged by like a snail trying to win a grasshopper race. Another one of my grandmother’s expressions. Per Todd’s instructions, I relaxed all day Friday until time for him to beautify me.
“Tell me why again I wasn’t supposed to wash it?” I asked after I showered without washing my hair.
“Dirty hair is easier to style,” he replied through a mouthful of hairpins.
“You’re the boss.” If I hadn’t fully trusted his beauty advice before, I certainly did after he proved he was right about my hair color.
Todd started with my hair. He pulled out a box of hot rollers we’d never used before. “This will give you a beachy wave. We’ll perfect it with the curling iron.”
He applied my makeup while the curlers set my hair. My face was pure elegance when he was done. He finished putting the finishing touches on my bronzed eyes when the buzzer rang from the front door. Someone was in the lobby and wanted to come up. The manager hadn’t replaced the doorman, so visitors had to use the buzzers to be allowed in the building.
“I guess they fixed the system.” Todd left to check who it was and returned a few minutes later with a manicurist. “I figured of all nights, tonight you get a little extra pampering. She’s going to do your nails while I finish your hair.
The small, blond woman set up a collapsible table complete with stool in my bathroom. By the time my nails dried, my hair was cascading down my back in fat curls and waves.
Todd began his own primping while I contemplated my dress. I stepped into it and instantly turned into a svelte princess—not the old-school, ball gown type princess. I embodied the modern-day, high fashion sort of royalty. Although, I wouldn’t have minded a glass slipper. I could rock it.
