I pulled and his entire body shot up out the chair. “Ow!” He almost screamed that part and I didn’t blame him. I looked down at my hand and was holding a large piece of what looked like black plastic.
“This stuff is not normal.” I shook my head, placing it down on the table. “It can’t be good for you.”
“Clearly,” he said, rubbing the side of his face, trying to ease what I can only imagine was serious pain.
I patted the chair for him to sit back down. “Almost done,” I said, although I’d only managed to pull the bottom half off.
“Are you sure you can’t wash it off?” He sounded desperate.
I shook my head. “No. Afraid not.”
“Okay.” He took a sip of the drink he had on the table and then looked at me. “Want one?” he asked.
“No, thanks. Think I should be sober for this.”
“Good point.” He put his head back and closed his eyes. “Do it all at once. And don’t stop until it’s all off.”
“Okay,” I said, and then was almost about to pull when he shot up again.
“I’m Alex, by the way.” He extended a hand for me to shake. I took it and smiled at him. This was up there with the top five strangest meetings of my life. Right up there with the time I bumped into my high school principal coming out of an adult shop with a brown paper bag.
“Val, nice to meet you . . . I guess.” I shook his hand and he settled back into his chair.
“Okay, Val. Go for it.”
And so I did. I pulled. I could tell it was absolutely excruciating. His face crinkled and contorted as the stuff peeled off like a second skin. I could almost feel his pain as his body tensed and shuddered with every pull.
“Nearly there,” I said to him as I passed the eyes and was about to hit the forehead.
“Hurry!” I could tell he was holding his breath.
“Breathe,” I said.
“I can’t.”
“If you don’t it’s more painful,” I offered, thinking of what you see in all those TV shows where women give birth and are told to breathe through the contractions.
“Just hurry,” he whimpered, still holding his breath.
“Breathe!” I urged, as I was sure he was about to pass out.
“This is not a Lamaze class.” He finally took a breath. “Just, please. Get. This. Thing. Off.”
“Okay!” I yanked hard and it finally all came off.
“Oh my God!” The relief in his voice was as palpable as mine was. He jumped out of the chair and put his hands on his face, as if he was making sure it was still there and working.
“That was terrible! That was . . . it was . . . wow!” He had a cute British accent; it was the first time I’d really noticed it. He pulled his hands away from his face and then . . . I tried very hardnotto stare.
From a face totally obscured in black goo, he revealed something entirely different. Something that made me stop and stare . . .
Have you ever looked at someone, and for some strange, inexplicable reason, felt completely at ease with them immediately? As if they give off some kind of reassuring energy that makes you want to sit down, hold hands, be friends with them and tell them all your deepest darkest secrets?
Well, he had that quality to him. But that wasn’t all—when one looked at him for a little longer, this friendly, reassuring face gave way to something else entirely. He was good-looking. But not in any obvious way. His looks seemed to defy any kind of category I’d ever seen before. This intrigued me.
His eyes were bright, warm and friendly—despite their cool, gray color. Eyes you could trust, that shone with depth and intelligence but seemed to also have an edge to them, a smoldering kind of edge. The watery gray was framed with black lashes that almost made him look like he was wearing eyeliner, but not in a gothy way, as if he was about to break out with a poem about his inner angst. And when he smiled, I was even more taken aback. It was a gentle, kind smile that created this boyishly sexy dimple on his left cheek. His hair was a salt and pepper color, more salt than pepper actually. Not a look I’d ever found myself drawn to, but on him, there was something distinguished about it. The hair didn’t make him look old though, in fact, his face was clean-shaven and youthful-looking; this combination seemed impossible somehow, and yet, here it was. Standing right in front of me.
I was surprised that I was even noticing his looks in such minute detail, since I hadn’t done that in a while. But there was something about this man that was hard not to notice.
