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I was? Keen? “Well, it’s fine, really.” I twirled a few loose ends between my fingers.
Stefan remained at my side, and to my amazement started to comment on my hairstyle.
“Too long around the face. She constantly has to flick it away.”
I did? I glared at him. “No I don’t.”
“It’s heavy. I’m sure a lighter style would help.”
“Looks who’s talking,” I snapped. “Mister Mophead.”
Ellen chuckled. “I get it. I’ll feather it out a little and taper the sides. A couple of centimeters off the ends?”
I opened my mouth to answer but Stefan got there first.
“Brilliant.” He patted Ellen’s back and took up the neighboring unoccupied seat. “I’ll wait here while you get it washed.”
My mouth slammed shut. His attitude riled me—treating me like a child, as if my hair was all his to do with as he wished.
I tried to ignore my irritation as I reclined backward over a basin. A lovely hot spray of water hit my hair, and Ellen’s fingers massaged my scalp. I relaxed slightly. Nothing he’d asked for was extreme. In fact, it was exactly what my hair needed—a sprucing up.
“He’s very attentive towards you, isn’t he?” noted Ellen, washing out the shampoo.
“Yes, I suppose.” I stared across the room to where Stefan lounged in the chair, swiping his mobile screen with a finger.
“Must be nice,” she insinuated.
I cringed slightly. I’d been a little rude to him in front of his hairdresser. “Yes,” I said with brevity. It was nice, more than nice. He cared for me. I groaned inside. Why couldn’t I let him in and relax? What was it about my dangerous fox that kept me burrowed in my hole, poking my head out nervously? He’d not played the predator with me. He was about to spend a small fortune on my hair and we were still in our first month of dating.
By the time Ellen finished, I had to admire her handiwork. My head seemed lighter, as if unburdened, and the hair bounced about my face without hiding my eyes. “Lovely. Thank you.” I spoke with genuine gratitude.
I flashed a smile at Stefan, who’d watched my hair reshaping in silence, strangely entranced at the sight of my loose strands floating down onto the floor. His remained there, too, and the dark and light locks mingled together under Ellen’s feet.
He gave Ellen a generous tip on top of her extortionate fee. I twisted my feet about on the floor by the reception desk as Stefan swiped his credit card. How to make it up to him?
“I’m taking you out for lunch,” he announced as he unlocked the car.
“What? You’ve just paid a small fortune to have a few wisps of hair trimmed, and now lunch?” I slammed my door shut.
The engine roared into action.
“Nothing special. A little bistro.” He leaned over and kissed my lips before I could protest his generosity. “You look glorious.”
Flattery worked. “So do yo
u. Stunning. Sharper. Debonair.” My heart fluttered as he remained in close proximity.
“Later, I’ll put that to the test.”
Those sexual nerve endings fired up. Patience. We still had lunch to do.
* * * *
After we’d downed our hot panini and sodas in a quaint café frequented by students, Stefan suggested a walk along The Backs. The river Cam ran alongside the colleges and behind them the meadows, some with cows munching on grass. A little haven of rural England in the midst of a city. We passed each college in turn, remarking on the different architecture, then we watched the students punt tourists up and down the river in their flat boats. The cold spring air was in sharp contrast to the crystal blue skies and many passengers had blankets over their legs.
We came to Trinity College and the small porter’s cabin at the gates. I hurried by, head down. I recognized the old gent. Stefan had to pick up his pace to keep up with me.
“What’s up?”
