It’s going to be fun
An artist. Warmth spread through her chest and a smile across her face at the act of being seen, of being asked to take part in the project. She loved the practicality of her work, but shethrivedon the creativity of it all. Whether or not she was truly “an artist” was up for debate. Her mother certainly didn’t agree, and Fern found the identity more and more fleetingwith each passing day.
The door jangled, and Noa walked in for her one o’clock appointment.
Sending a quick text to Elliott, Fern let him know she’d return to their conversation after work, then settled Noa into the chair for her consultation.
“First day going well?”
“Amazing. I met four new clients, even though Ros took two of their haircuts. She’s gone for the afternoon, though. It’s just me and you, sweet cheeks.”
“You’re in afantasticmood. Why’s that, hmm?” Noa batted her lashes while Fern clasped the sides of her head, tilting her chin down, then up, then left a bit, then right.
Fern’s mood wasn’tfantastic; it was fine, topped with a dollop of anxiety, bordering on bad, actually. She’d caught a case of the “what are we’s” coupled with the “who am I’s.” A potentially lethal combination.
“Just thinking about this project Elliott and I are gonna do for Ren’s wedding,” she replied, over-searching her container for the right comb.
“I know all about that. I was there when it was conceived.”
Studying the ends of Noa’s hair, Fern found the top of the damaged ends and pinched the bottom inch and a half between her fingers. “Areyouwhy I’ve been pulled in as the artist? Also, we should cut at least this much. Are you okay with that?”
“Olivia suggested you, and yes, I want to go shorter, actually.” Noa slid her pointer finger along her collarbone. “Here.”
“Girl, you are going to look so hot!” Fern continued her consultation and learned Noa wanted a blunt cut, a lob. She was still committed to that bleach test, too, dead set on trying a bold dye since she’d never ventured from her natural black hair.
That reminded Fern she wanted to go pink. Maybe she’d knock it out after she closed up shop for the day.
At the sinks, Fern worked a vibrant citrusy shampoo through Noa’s thick hair while she all but moaned.
“Ooh, that feels good. So, are you dating anyone?”
“Interesting segue.” Looking down into Noa’s upturned face, Fernasked, “Are you asking me out? Because I have dated women, you know.”
Laughing, Noa replied, “You already proposed to me. And, no. I’m waiting for the perfect man.”
“And you think he’ll just show up here?”
“If I’m lucky. It happened for Ben and Liv.”
Ithadhappened for them. Liv moved, met Ben, they fell in love, and they basically got married within two weeks of knowing each other. She turned up in town and got... friendzoned. She wanted what Ben and Liv had.
That was insane.
But she did want it. “How do you guys—shifters, I mean—actually mate with someone?”
When Noa tapped her fingers together like a cartoon villain, Fern laughed, accidentally drenching Noa’s face with the sprayer head. Luckily, she thought it was more funny than unprofessional.
“Buckle up, baby,” Noa said, grinning and rubbing her eyes. “Are you ready for information overload?”
“Oh my god,yes.”
Draping a towel over Noa’s shoulders, Fern ushered her back to the main chair, and they both got down to business. Fern dealt with the cape while Noa began, “Shifters don’t mate with just anyone. We have to be compatible for it to be possible.”
“And how do you know when you’re compatible? Also, I’m going to start a little longer than you indicated, and we’ll take it up from there, good?”
“Perfect. Have at it. Anyway, there’s this thing called potential mates.”
“I’m listening.”
