Color Me Pretty: A Father's Best Friend Romance

But I knew that wasn’t going to be enough, and that familiar feeling wiggled its way under my skin until I couldn’t bare anymore face time with myself in the glass.

Eying the tips of my hair as they bounced with my steps, I grabbed my phone from the counter and hit a button with an idea that I might regret but didn’t want to walk away from if I was going to try, really try, like Theo wanted. Hell, like the world wanted according to Ribbons.

“To possible regrets,” I whispered, listening to it ring as I bit my thumbnail.

“Hello?”

I wet my bottom lip, hesitating only for a microsecond but refusing to chicken out. “Can you help me with something?”

There was no hesitation, which I found comforting. “When and where?” Blowing out a sigh of relief, I said my address and a time and hung up, smiling to myself with a new fluttery feeling in my stomach.

The knock at the door had me running my palms down my thighs as I peeked through the little hole in the door. Silver blonde was on full display, making me unlatch and unlock the door before pulling it open.

“Swanky place,” was the first thing out of Tiffany’s mouth as she walked in. Looking around, she assessed the art-filled walls, colorful furniture, and finally me. “I didn’t think you’d ever reach out.”

“Neither did I,” I admitted, closing the door and crossing my arms over my chest. Pausing for a minute, I decided to rip off the Band-Aid. “I’m trying to get past a lot of things, but I need to do that one step at a time.”

She just nodded slowly, waiting for me to get to my point. It wasn’t a rude gesture, just who she was. We’d seen each other a few times at yoga when I went, but I didn’t frequent the classes as much I usually did. Part of that had to do with av

oiding her so I didn’t feel bad about not using her number.

“Can you do something with my hair?”

She blinked. “What?” Her eyes went to what I held up, squinting at the odd color. “What did you do to it?”

“Not important.” My face heated, which meant it was probably red and I didn’t want to go into details. “You used to do the other girls’ hair all the time before recitals. It was what you wanted to do at one point.”

Surprise flickered across her face. “I didn’t know anybody remembered that.”

All I did was shrug in return. I remembered a lot about those days. Just because I cut dance cold turkey didn’t mean I stopped thinking about what it was like to have a routine, a set schedule, and how much I enjoyed being around some of the girls. Not that I’d ever admit it to Tiffany, but I always liked her head-strong, no bs personality.

“Why don’t you just go somewhere and pay a professional to do it?” Walking over, she examined the hair and made a face. “I don’t know what you did to this, but it’s hideous.”

Rolling my eyes, I swatted her hand away. “I know it is. It wasn’t on purpose. And you offered to help me, so I thought…”

“With dance, Adele.” I just stared at her with a pleading look until she groaned. “Tell me why you asked me. You have plenty of friends and probably a personal stylist like the rest of us.”

Blinking, my throat got thick. “I think you’re forgetting that personal stylists cost money.” I wasn’t embarrassed over my current financial standing. I worked hard and was proud of what I had. Commissioning some of my work, selling pieces I’d collected over the years, and working different smaller jobs on campus had kept me afloat. But everything else? “Listen, I’m trying to be careful about what I spend and going out isn’t always the most comfortable for me.”

“But you do it.”

“For school,” I reasoned.

She pointed toward the stool in the kitchen and gave me a relenting sigh. “Fine, but you need to give me more than that. Sit down and tell me where your scissors are. And I’m not cleaning up.”

“Deal.” Helping her get what she needed, I plopped down on the chair and watched her grab a towel from the kitchen to drape over my shoulders.

“This is because of your eating disorder, right? If it were just about your father, you probably wouldn’t even go to school because there are a lot of people he hurt there.”

Wow. She went right for the jugular. I wasn’t that surprised, but it still didn’t make me warm and fuzzy to hear. “The haircut is for me. I always told myself I’d keep my hair long, especially if it meant my mother would brush and braid it before bed every night.” And Theo, but she didn’t know who that was, and I didn’t feel like explaining the sordid tale. It made me think about the note, which I realized halfway through the day had fallen out of my pocket. It’d put me in a sour mood, which was ridiculous. It wasn’t a love note, but it still made me feel…something.

She was quiet for a moment as she ran a comb through my hair to make sure it was smooth. “Your mother was always kind to everybody. She stood out from the rest.”

The familiar sting of old memories watered down my eyes. “Yeah, she did.”

“Okay, so new hair for a new you,” she moved on, allowing me to close my eyes and collect myself. “You don’t go out a lot because of the disorder though. A haircut won’t change that.”

“I didn’t say it would.”