Page 71 of Colliding with Ten

“Some of those control temperature and pressure.”

“I know that now,” she said, wiping her face with the towel. “I was trying to turn on the regular showerhead. Instead, I turned on the one directly above me.”

“The rain shower?”

“Whatever it’s called.”

“How long is your hair going to take?”

She exhaled. “Longer than I have.”

“Can the stylists fix it?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“They’re hair stylists.”

“They are not my hairstylist.”

“I assume they know how to dry hair.”

“Curly hair with different textures cannot be handled like straight hair, Lennox.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t understand. This is a process.”

She walked away from me toward the bathroom, and I followed. A wide-tooth comb, clips, a unique brush I’d never seen before, and a blow-dryer attachment shaped like a bowl sat beside the sink.

“How long will it take?”

“If I rush, maybe forty minutes.”

“We are scheduled to leave in twenty.”

“I know.”

“What’s your plan?”

“You go first and distract them.”

“No.” I had already decided to stay with her today.

She looked at me like I was being difficult.

“I’m not leaving you here.”

“You’re not abandoning me in the woods.”

I didn’t care where we were. “And I’m telling production what?”

Her face tensed. “Tell them I’m running late.”

“You don’t wanna look unprofessional in your first shoot. Let me help.”

She stared at me. “With what?”

“Your hair.”