AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Don’t fire poor Kaden. He wants to take me to see a band the day after Christmas.”
“Donotgo see that band, whoever they are,” Axel advised, circling behind the counter and tapping the buttons to close out the cash. “I guarantee they will suck.”
I felt myself smiling as I tied off the bag of trash. Then I paused, taking a second look at him. “Wait a minute. Did you trim your beard? And your hair is shorter.” He still had his hair tied back, but some of the length had been trimmed off. He never wore his hair down in front of me, and I wondered what it looked like.
Axel rubbed a hand over his less-bushy jaw. “I went to the barber. I figured it was time.”
“You wanted a haircut and you didn’t ask me?”
He paused, turning to look at me. It was cold and dark outside, and he was wearing a quilted red-and-black flannel coat that made him look like a hot, blond lumberjack. His blue eyes were like ice as they took me in. “Was I supposed to ask you?” he asked. “You said you don’t cut hair anymore. Actually, you said you never wanted to cut hair again.”
Had I said that? I probably had. I’d certainly felt it. After L.A., the thought of going back to my old profession had no attraction for me. I’d have to start from the bottom, renting a chair in a salon or working for someone else. Even if I had enough money to start my own salon again, the thought of doing it was exhausting. I was burned out. I was done.
Or so I’d thought—until tonight, when someone else cut Axel’s hair instead of me.
I’d been looking at those blond tresses for months now. They had a bit of soft curl to them. Their color was true blond, mixed gorgeously with strands of darker brown, with the same mix in his beard. Some men paid colorists huge amounts of money to get hair like that. I might be burned out, but deep down, my professional self had always wanted to get her hands on Axel’s hair.
“I would have done a better job,” I managed, because I didn’t understand my own reaction.
Axel ran a hand over his man bun, his silver rings glinting. “I didn’t think it was that bad.”
“It isn’t bad. Just not as good as what I would do.”
He frowned. “You really want to cut my hair?”
I looked back down at the trash bag, as if tying it took all of my concentration. What the hell was wrong with me? It wasn’t like I’d lain in bed every night, fantasizing about Axel’s hair. Cutting someone’s hair wasn’t the same as sex or affection or love. It wasn’t a big deal.
And yet it was. I’d gotten into hairstyling because I had loved it, because it was how I expressed myself, the same way the Road Kings expressed themselves in music. I’d been passionate about it. Axel getting a haircut at a barbershop was the same as if I’d gone to see another band in concert while the Road Kings were playing down the street.
I reminded myself that he’d mentioned a barber, who was most likely a man, instead of a stylist. If a woman had cut his hair, I might just lose it.
“Tell me next time,” I muttered, picking up the bag. “I’ll do it. That’s all.”
“Fine,” he said, clearly not getting it. He took the trash bag from me. “Give me that, I’ll take it out. What are you doing tonight?”
“Now?” I asked, following him to the back door. It was the end of my shift, two days before Christmas. My plans were to put on pajamas and watchLove Island.
“Yeah, now.” Axel propped open the back door and tossed the heavy trash bag into the Dumpster like it weighed nothing. “You busy?”
“No. Why?”
“We could do something.” His tone was casual, but as he turned and came back into the shop, he rolled his eyes at himself. “Okay, fine. I just came from a meeting that was kind of intense. I have some energy to burn off and I don’t really want to be by myself.”
“Oh.” Axel was honest with me about going to AA and NA—Narcotics Anonymous—meetings. He also had an addiction therapist that he saw once per month. He didn’t talk in depth about what addiction had been like, or about any cravings he might have. He also didn’t describe what happened at either the meetings or the therapy sessions. I didn’t ask, because that seemed like it would be rude. If he wanted to talk about it, he would.
“Have you had dinner?” he asked as we continued to close up.
“Yeah, I ate. We could do something else. Go bowling or something.”
“They serve beer at bowling alleys. I’m not up for that.” He leaned against the counter, crossing one ankle over the other and rubbing his eyes. For a second, he looked tired, as if something was weighing on him. Which, tonight, it was.
I tried a different tactic. “What do you normally do when you feel like this?”
Axel counted off on his fingers. “Go to the movies with Stone. Play drums. Work out. Have sex. Usually one of those works.”
I stared, speechless, but he didn’t notice.
“Stone is in South America right now,” he continued, without looking at me. “I already worked out today. And sex? Well.” He looked at the ceiling, rubbing his chin. “I’m between women right now.”
