Page 73 of Colliding with Ten

“What does that do?”

“Helps define and separate the curls.” She worked it through the section while I watched. The wet hair formed into defined corkscrew curls.

“That’s it?”

“For that section.”

She did another section, and I repeated the steps. By the third section, she stopped checking on me, and I understood by the feel how much product the hair needed. Soon, we alternated between using the products and tools. She did one side, while I did the other. I wasn’t moving as fast as she was, but I was making progress.

Her curls changed as we worked. The soaked, uneven mass became organized into defined patterns. The hair near the back of her neck was looser, while the middle was coiled tighter. Then the sections near her face were loose again. Some ends needed more product, others less.

“You’re really quiet,” she said.

“I’m concentrating.”

She chuckled. “It’s just hair.”

“It’s your hair.”

She met my eyes in the mirror. I realized how that had sounded after I said it, but I had no time to feel weird about it. I moved to the next section in the front. She tilted her head to give me better access, and I smoothed the product from near the root to the ends. Her hair wrapped around my fingers, and I released the last section.

Her head tipped back as she giggled at how careful I was. A section I’d just finished landed against my palm, and I smoothed it to keep my hands there a bit longer. I liked being trusted with a part of her daily care. She smirked at me through the mirror. We finished the final section at seven twenty. Ayla leaned toward the mirror and examined the result from both sides. I waited.

She touched one curl near her cheek, then another at the back. “This is good.”

“And to think you doubted me.”

“You follow instructions very well.”

She picked up the blow-dryer and attached the bowl-shaped piece.

“What is that?”

“A diffuser. It will dry the curls without blowing them apart.”

I checked the time again. “We’re late, but it’s not bad.”

“Go. You can’t help with this part.”

“You said that about the first part.”

“This requires me to bend my head upside down.”

“Okay. I’ll go and distract them.”

“Thank you.”

I walked toward the door.

“Lennox.”

I looked back. She stood in the bathroom entrance holding the dryer.

“Thank you,” she said. “Seriously.”

Satisfaction bloomed in my chest. “You’re welcome. I think it was one of my better accomplishments.”

She looked doubtful. “You’re a professional football player.”