I grin. This isexactlywhat I need. I’ll pay her back for the motorbike repairs and the clothes I’m about to buy, plus hopefully contribute to the living costs. If I can be valuable to her, she might let me stay. For good.
Saying a quick thanks to Steve, I cruise out of his shop with my Triumph purring between my legs, and I hit the highway to push the speed and see how fast she can go now.
Weaving in and out of traffic with a fucking smile on my face, I feel freer than I have in a long time. It’s fucking addictive, so much so that I nearly forget about my appointment with my parole officer.
He’s a complete fucktard. Judgy as fuck, sitting back in his chair, tossing peanuts in his mouth, most of them missing. Thankfully, I’m able to satisfy him with the news of where I’m living and the job I’m starting tomorrow, and I’m in and out in fifteen minutes.
After that, I catch up with a couple of old friends before I go shopping, and by the time I pull my bike up outside The Chic Strand, I’m wearing new clothes that I can call my own, riding my bike that looks brand spanking new, and am the new employee of Hedgwick Auto Repairs.AndI’m also scheduled for my first fight later this week.
For once, I feel like I’m winning.
Glancing through the salon window, my eyes instantly land on Lily, her copper hair hard to miss. There’s another stylist talking to her. Bonnie… I think that's her name. Their eyes land on me, and I can tell by Lily’s rosy cheeks and the playful smirk on Bonnie’s face that they are talking about yours truly.
Knowing I look fucking good right now in the snug white t-shirt, the black jeans and black shit kickers, I dismount my bike, securing my helmet on the back before striding inside.
Bonnie grins as the door closes behind me, her jet-black hair bouncing like a waterfall of silk as she moves.
“Good to see you again, Asher.” Her dark lashes flutter as shepasses, walking out the door, and I grin, shooting her a wink, expecting the giggle that follows.
All the chicks giggle when I wink at them. It’s a talent.
“You look like a new man.” Lily’s voice floats to me as the door shuts again, trapping us in the salon together alone, since it’s past closing time.
“Nearly.” I shrug. “I will be once I’ve had my haircut.”
When I smile, Lily returns it, her eyes travelling over me in a way I know she’d be annoyed with herself if she realised what she was doing.
Approaching her slowly, I let her look her fill before stopping in front of her, waiting expectantly for her to speak.
It takes her a second, but she eventually sighs, shaking her head like she’s internally scolding herself.
Maybe she did notice how she was checking me out.
“Let’s finish the job then.” She smiles, stepping closer, her ocean eyes darting from my face to my hair as she examines it. “You just want the usual?”
Lily has been cutting my hair since I was twelve. There were a few times when I was thirteen that I got a chubby just from her running her hand through my hair, much the way she is now. I had to start wearing longer t-shirts every time I came in for a fucking haircut.
I won’t bother hiding it now. I’ll make sure Lily knows exactly how she affects me.
“Yeah,” I rasp, my eyes closing on their own accord as I relish the feel of her delicate fingers sweeping through my longer than usual strands.
Fuck, that feels good.
“It feels so good to have you touch me,” I admit, and her hand stills in my hair.
My eyes snap open, locking with hers, and we are so close that I can see the darker flecks in them. We are also so close that if I lean forward, I could kiss her. Something I’ve dreamed of doing since before I even knew what sex was.
“I’m your hairdresser right now, Asher.”
“I don’t care. It still feels good,” I admit, letting my smirk show a little.
I wait for her to pull away, but she doesn’t, instead she runs her fingers through my hair a few more times.
She doesn’t need to do that, so either she’s doing it for me because she knows I’m enjoying her touch,orshe’s doing it for herself because she’s struggling to fight her attraction to me.
“Let’s wash it first.” Lily’s voice is quiet as her hand falls away, before gesturing to the row of basins at the back of the salon.
She doesn’t usually wash my hair when I get a haircut. She normally sends me home afterwards to shower, but my hair also hasn’t been this long before, so perhaps that has something to do with it.
