Page 12 of Undeniably Perfect

Kent

“Tabitha?”

The apartment is dimly lit only by a small lamp in the corner of my family room. Walking back toward the den, I see the bathroom light on and the door open. I peek inside. Holy. Shit.

There are smears of red everywhere. It’s a total crime scene.

I start to panic. “Tabitha?” My voice is louder this time as I step back and scan the hallway for...well, shit, I don’t know what I’m looking for exactly.

Before I can read too much into what I’m seeing, the den’s door flies open, and a very different-looking Tabitha stands in front of me...her hair is…red. Not a fake red either, a red that looks so natural on her.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, confusion clouding her face.

“I…I…” I clear my throat and look back into the bathroom.

“Oh....sorry. I’ll clean it up in a minute.”

Her puzzled face suddenly evaporates, replaced with a grin. The grin morphs into a full-blown smile and then laughter erupts from her lips. Her eyes well with tears as she doubles over and slaps her legs. “Oh my god. You thought…the hair dye…oh god…”

I roll my eyes. She tries to pull herself together but just ends up leaning against the doorjamb, trying to catch her breath. “Just…give me a minute.”

“Please, take your time,” I retort, crossing my arms.

After a few moments, she regains her composure. “It’s just hair dye.”

I roll my eyes again. “Thanks, Sherlock. I figured that one out.”

She shrugs and turns toward my kitchen. I follow and watch as she grabs cleaning spray and some paper towels.

“Is it natural?” I ask her as she walks back toward the bathroom.

She turns, frowning. “Is what natural?”

I motion toward her hair. Her face flushes slightly as she nods, her fingers twirling a lock of it. I have a sudden urge to touch it. I don’t know what overcomes me as I step toward her and take the lock out of her fingers, running it between my finger and thumb. Her hair is soft and smooth. The color is...stunning. I ponder why she ever dyed it to begin with. I also notice her nose piercing is gone.

“I like it.”

“Thanks,” she whispers before turning and heading toward the bathroom, presumably to clean it.

I watch her ass sway as she walks down the hall and my mind goes straight to the gutter, as I wonder if the carpet matches the curtains. Shit, I’m going straight to hell, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

My phone pings and I look down.

Di: Soooo???

Me: So, what?

Di: Photos...good?

I shake my head. She knew I had them today. I also know that Mother Hen is behind this text. Hell, she’s probably just going to screenshot my answer to Lanie.

I change to the family chat because it will make my life easier in the long run.

Me: Fam – heads up. I have a guest staying at my apartment. Long story but the photographer taking my photos for the hospital charity thing had a fire at her studio/apartment. I offered up my place while she gets sorted out.

I barely hit send before the Spanish Inquisition begins.

Mothership: Oh dear! Is she OK? Does she need anything? Are you OK? What happened? Call me.

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