Page 53 of Counting On You

She narrows her eyes. “Why do I have the feeling it involves breaking the rules?”

“Probably, but definitely not more than you using my phone.” I wink, expecting a laugh, but she doesn’t seem to acknowledge my attempt at breaking through the sudden tension.

“I’m still not sure this is a good idea,” Vicky says.

I throw up my hands in mock surrender. “Fine. Forget about it. But it’s the last time I let you use my phone.”

She keeps silent for a few seconds, but her thoughts are written on her face. This phone is probably like a lifeboat to her; it keeps her glued to the asshole she’s in love with, robbing her of any chance of seeing him for what he is.

I’ve barely finished drawing my conclusion when she places her hand on my shoulder. Before I can figure out what the fuck she’s doing now, she’s pushed up on her toes, her lips coming dangerously close to my ear as she whispers, “Relax, I never said no. Only that I’m not sure it’s a good idea, not with this haircut of yours. I’m not leaving with someone looking so—”

Frowning, she waves her hand in my face, looking for the right word.

Fuck it!

My hair’s like my dick—it’s perfect. No woman’s ever found anything to fault.

“What’s wrong with it?” I ask.

“It’s not about what’s wrong with it,” Vicky says slowly. “It’s more the fact that you need it. New phase. New look. That’s what my dad used to say whenever people were having a hard time. He said going for a new haircut and reinventing yourself helps to shed old behavior and make room for the new. Now, sit down. You’ll like it.”

“As long as you don’t leave me bald,” I mumble.

She lets out a laugh. “You can’t reject the possible.”

“Yeah, I might go bald. At sixty. I’ll probably even rock it.”

“Vain. That’s what you are.” She rolls her eyes and motions for me to sit on the sofa. I do as she instructs and realize that I enjoy our banter way more than I should.

“Wait,” I say as the scissors come dangerously close to my face. “What cut are you going to give me?”

“Where’s your trust?” She smiles sweetly and lifts the scissors. “Any last wishes? You know, once it’s gone, it’ll take weeks to grow back.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, but relaxation is the last thing on my mind. Her hands are soft, her expert fingers determined as she rakes them through my hair. I can’t help but wonder how they’d feel on my dick.

“Just don’t make me regret it,” I say.

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