“Now, when are you going to send it to me?”
“I don’t know…”
“You could send it to me, and I could read it on the flight.”
“Let me get it edited and clean it up for you.”
“I would love it just the way it is.”
I put my hand over my chest and exhaled.This man.
“If you didn’t have to wake up early, I would’ve asked you if you wanted some company tonight,” I said sleepily.
“If the company is you, the answer will always be yes,” he replied.
“You say that now, but you’d feel funny if I were waiting at your place when you got home.” I giggled.
“I would love that shit.”
The lack of amusement in his response sucked the laughter from my body.What?
There was thirty seconds of dead silence.
“You never told me what you were doing tomorrow,” he pointed out, changing the subject.
“I have a hair appointment that I almost forgot about, and then I’m going to clean up and chill. Sunday will be church and then watching you kick ass.”
He laughed. “I like that plan. Who does your hair?”
We talked for about an hour before his yawns got the best of him.
“You need to get your rest,” I told him.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Send me a picture of you after you get your hair done.”
“I will. I’ll send you a few of them. Let me know when you land in New York.”
“I’m letting you know when I get to the airport.”
Grinning, I nodded. “Yes, please.”
“Aight, I’ll hit you up in the morning.”
“Okay, have a good night.”
“Good night, Jazz.”
The grin on my face felt permanent.
Even my loctician made a comment as she dyed and then retwisted my hair the next day.
“You look happy,” she noted as she turned me around in the chair.
And I was.
“What made you finally decide to try something other than the honey-blonde highlights?” she wondered, inspecting my midnight-blue locs. “A breakup or a new guy?”
“Neither, actually. My aunt and I made lists of things we had to do and dyeing our hair was one of them. So here I am.” I smiled at my reflection in the mirror. “This is the eighth thing off my list.”
