Shit.
What am I doing?
I browse the small space and immediately adore it. There’s a unique and sweet smell, like hair spray and roses, that I wish I could buy in candle form. The walls are covered in wallpaper with large, thin black-and-white flowers, and everything else is gold, blush, and the occasional deep turquoise accent color.
It’s warm and welcoming, and what I imagine is a vision come to life.
“Sorry about that. How can I help you?”
Whoa. Is this his sister? She’s stunning, like a supermodel with thick, long, glossy hair, perfectly manicured eyebrows, and flawless makeup. I’m instantly jealous of her and also want to be her best friend. I have a feeling Ben is holding me off introducing us, so I wanted to smooth things over if needed, but now I’m regretting it because she’s super intimidating.
“Hi, I’m Annie.” I thought she would recognize my name and introduce herself, but maybe it’s not her. “I’m new to town and just wanted to see when I can get in for a trim and some highlights.”
She swallows and slowly scans my hair with narrowed eyes. I know I’m not as pretty as her, but something shifts in herexpression…disgust flares, and for a second, I swear she’s about to slap me.
Then, like shaking off a fog, she smiles. “Sorry, Annie, right?” I nod, and she goes on, “When do you want to get in?”
“Pretty much any time before noon.”
“Give me a second.” She flips through her appointment book. “I can actually fit you in right now. I was closing up for the day, but I have time.”
“Really? Are you sure? You don’t have plans or anything?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. Follow me.”
“Great, thank you so much.”
I sit in the chair at the only station, and before my butt is in the seat, she has a black cape snapped around my neck. “So a trim and highlights?”
“Yep, just the split ends, please. And just a couple of face-framing highlights if you can.”
She runs her fingers through my hair. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”
I stare at myself in the round mirror and immediately feel like a loser. Every other woman I’ve seen, not only today but since I’ve been here, is beautiful.
Kit has a sort of punk-rock vibe, but the French manicure on her fingers somehow made sense. Willa was polished and professional, and I just knew the diamonds in her ears were real. The saleswoman at the boutique had intricate, shiny, colorful braids that reached her waist. The girl at the bakery counter had beachy waves under her hair net and the coolest pink jumpsuit. The woman jogging wore neon-green tennis shoes that matched her shorts.
And here I am. No makeup, my hair hangs on my head with no shape, and I have no style. I never cared that much and was fine with how I looked, but I’m realizing just how boring I am, how plain. What does Ben see in me?
“Would you like something to drink?” The stylist asks as she wheels out a tray. “I have Diet Coke, water, RumChata, and Prosecco.”
“Prosecco, please.”
“Be right back.”
She returns, and I do my best not to slam my drink, but my nerves are kicking my ass right now. She works quietly as she applies the dye and foils to my hair. “These should only take about twenty minutes to process. I’m just going to go clean up. Be back shortly.”
“Okay, thank you.”
I sip the Prosecco and feel the alcohol starting to work its magic, my nerves slowly fading to nothing.
She returns and checks the foils. “Looks good, let’s go to the sink.”
I feel awkward, like I should be saying something, but I don’t know what to talk about. The shampoo is wonderful, and when we get back to the station, I can’t help but smile at the hint of color I see. “I like it.”
She smiles back as she tops off my glass. “Good. Just a trim, right?” I nod, and she starts brushing. “You said you’re new to town? What brought you to Matchbook?”
“Um…well, I’ve always heard good things, and then an…opportunity kind of presented itself.”
