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He stiffened.
“What?”
“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled between his teeth. “That’s you.”
“What’s me?”
“That. What you’re puttin’ on my face. That’s you.”
Confused, I quit applying the conditioner to his beard. “Huh?”
Sean closed his eyes. He was breathing heavily through his nostrils. “I didn’t know what it was—shampoo, shit you put on your skin, or if it was just you, smelling like honey. Now I know.” He opened his eyes and looked at me.
I took his heavy breathing and stiffness as my smell not being a good one.
An ache passed under my skin and sunk deep, burning a hole clear through my heart.
Rejection was one of the worst pains one could ever feel. It stuck with you. Scars healed. Bruises went away.
Rejection was lasting. It was a memory you could conjure up at any time and hurt from, over and over again. It never left you.
“Uh, I can…use something else,” I stammered, my throat suddenly tight and distorting my voice. “I have other stuff—”
Sean’s arm shot out and his hand wrapped around my wrist as I was turning to grab another option out of the shower. He curtly shook his head.
“No?” I questioned softly.
“No.” His voice was urgent.
“You don’t mind it?”
“I do not fuckin’ mind it.”
My breath caught. “Okay,” I rushed out, licking my dry lips. “Okay, um, that’s…I’m glad you don’t mind. That’s nice of you.”
Oh, my God, Sean liked the way I smell.
Or he at least tolerated it enough to wear it on his face.
Either way, ohmyGodohmyGodohmyGod.
Be cool, Shay. Be cool.
“It’s actually not just this,” I informed him. “I have the matching shampoo too. Plus, my body wash is crème brûlée, which basically smells like honey. I like the smell. It’s subtle but there, you know? Not too harsh.”
Sean didn’t say anything in return, but he seemed to be taking in the information I was sharing. He kept his eyes on me.
I took that as a good sign.
Once I finished applying the conditioner and wiped my hands clean, I plugged the sink and filled it with water. Then I picked up the razor.
“I’ve never shaved another person before. You might lose a lip,” I said, leaning over and touching the blade to Sean’s skin.
His eyes cut to mine.
“Just kidding,” I whispered.
Sean relaxed, exhaling, then looked to the ceiling.
Fighting a grin, I held his face and carefully dragged the blade down his skin.
I took my time. I was careful, not just around the harsh angle of Sean’s jaw, but everywhere. I remembered his request—how he kept his beard before—and followed it to a T. Like during the haircut, we didn’t converse, which worked for me, considering how close I was to Sean’s mouth with my mouth, and how enticed I’d be to lean in and taste his words if he started speaking them. Feeling his breath on my hand was temptation enough. Besides, I needed full concentration for this. Sean’s face would be the first thing those girls looked at. And he was trusting me to make this less scary for him, when he was terrified they wouldn’t recognize who he was. He worried they’d pull back when they saw him or turn away. He was half convinced they would.
I needed this to be perfect. I wouldn’t give him any less than that. Sean had come to my apartment, asking for my help, and I wouldn’t let him down.
When I had finished up and cleaned off the blade, I took a towel and wiped the excess conditioner off Sean’s face. Then I leaned back and smiled.
“All done. Check it out.”
Sean pushed out of the chair and stood in front of the mirror. He lifted his chin and stroked his face. He looked left and then right, and then he looked straight on.
“I feel like I’m meeting another you,” I said. “The man you were before, I mean. This is what he looked like.”
Sean turned to me. “You don’t wanna know him,” he mumbled.
“No?” I reached up and touched his jaw, which I could see now without hindrance of a full beard.
It was angular, like it was chiseled out of stone. It was a really good jaw.
“I like this,” I told him, referring to his jaw and the rest of his face I’d just shaven. His damp hair was tucked behind his ears. It grazed the tops of his shoulders. “I liked the beard too. But this…I feel like you aren’t hiding from me anymore. This is you.”
His muscle beneath my hand twitched.
“When are you seeing your girls?” I asked.
“Tomorrow. Val’s bringing them over after work.”
“Are you off tomorrow?”
“I switched with J.R. I’m coverin’ the morning.”
“I’m covering the morning too.” I smiled. “Yay.”
I loved it when we worked together.
Sean’s eyes, which had been holding mine, lowered to my mouth. He swallowed, then pulled back so my hand left him, and uttered, “I gotta go.”
Those were not the words I was hoping he’d say, and not just because he was leaving.
