AllFreeNovel
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That’s another thing. The way he says my name, like it’s a delectable chocolate on the tip of his tongue. Like it’s something precious and rare and beautiful. Like he’s said it in the past, long before today.
“I think I’m done,” he adds, stepping away from Ms. Shirley. Water drips from his hands to the floor, licking at the pale skin I’d been eyeing since he folded his sleeves up.
I clear my throat. “Just a second.” Bending down, I grip the back of Melanie’s chair and whisper, “We’ll let that treatment sit and then I’ll add the conditioner.”
Ms. Shirley’s granddaughter nods shyly.
I stride to the kitchen a few steps away and analyze Griffin’s work. Ms. Shirley’s hair looks clean and free of suds and dandruff. I part her thick hair to see her scalp. With an approving nod, I say, “You did a good job.”
I watch his face light up, brown eyes dazzling me.
He’s proud of himself.
It’s puzzling. The cockiness I’d sensed when we first met… is that a front? Or am I just seeing things because he’s insanely hot and I want any reason to like him?
Pulling my lips in, I help Ms. Shirley out of the chair. “Let’s get you under the dryer for a few minutes.”
“Sure thing.” She presses two fingers to her mouth and blows Griffin a kiss. “That was the best I’ve ever had, suga.”
I cover my chuckle with a fisted hand.
Griffin takes it in stride and winks at her. “Same here.”
Ms. Shirley staggers a little.
Somehow we make it to the dryers while she’s half-conscious and love-struck. I put her under and return to Melanie. She’s popped ear buds into her ears and is playing a game on her phone.
After my first client’s chattiness, I’m glad to indulge in the silence. For a moment, all I hear is the whirr of the air dryer and the flip of the magazine in Ms. Shirley’s hands.
My mind trips into ‘the zone’. I’m focused on the texture of Melanie’s hair and the treatment it needs given her hair’s porosity and ability to retain moisture.
Eventually, something tears me out of that headspace.
A presence.
A manly fragrance.
The fine hair on the back of my neck stands to attention.
I look up and meet Griffin’s eyes in the reflection of the mirror. He’s standing behind me, close enough that I can feel his warmth but not totally penetrating my personal space.
There’s a curiosity in him that’s pure and sweet, which I find surprisingly alluring. His eyes shift from mine. He’s staring at Melanie’s hair like it’s an alien skull that’s been cracked open in a science lab.
In that moment, I realize he’s probably never seen a black woman’s hair up close and personal like this.
He clears his throat. “Is that… real?”
“Yup.” I nod and spritz some more water in the middle of Melanie’s head. “Do you see her texture? It’s looser and wavier in the middle but tighter at the back, so I’m going to stretch the bottom for more length. She’s a 4b/4c mix like her grandma.”
“What’s 4b?”
“It’s a natural hair term.” I section Melanie’s hair. It’s easier to manipulate than I expect which means she washed and detangled it before she came.
“I got that.” He looks at me, his eyelids hooded in an unintentional smolder. “What does it mean?”
My fingers stall in Melanie’s hair. Looking directly at Griffin is incredibly distracting. “Uh, Type Four hair in general is the ‘kinky’ texture. It means the curls are tighter than, say, a Spanish or white person’s. The 4b curl pattern is extremely coiled.”
“I didn’t know you had terms like that.”
