Page 50 of Not Another Rockstar
“Let me help, and you’ll be done faster,” he offered, getting off the counter. “In fact, let me help you, and I’ll take you to dinner.”
“Dinner? Me and you? Do you want Anita to murder us?” She frowned, removing the bag from her head and putting her sketchbook by the sink so it didn’t get wet.
“Fair point,” he mused. “But Anita doesn’t need to know, and you want out of the house. With your new hair, no one will notice.”
“They’ll notice you,” she said. It was hard to miss him.
“You’d be amazed by my disguises,” he said. “The decision is yours. Let me help, and you get a dinner out of the house.”
She hesitated, thinking how nice it would be to get away.
“Okay, I accept.”
“Good,” he said, trailing his hand down her arm, making her shiver. “Now bend over.”
“Axel! Really?” she snapped.
“Bend over the tub, so I can wash the dye out of your hair,” he clarified, and she wanted to wipe his smug smile off his face. She rolled her eyes; he was enjoying this too much.
She knelt on the floor and leaned her head over the tub, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.
“How’s the temperature?” he asked, threading his fingers through her hair. She wondered if he was trying to fill in the silence.
“Perfect,” she sighed, not sure if she was talking about the water temperature or his gentle touch.
“You’ve still got some purple spots,” he told her, breaking her enjoyment of the moment.
“I couldn’t really reach the back,” she groaned.
“It’s not noticeable, nobody else is going to be getting this close to you.”
The spots didn’t matter; she was too distracted by his fingers in her hair. She’d forgotten how nice it was to be taken care of. She was glad the water dripping down her face concealed her tears.
“What’d you do to your fingers?” he asked, noticing her hands gripping the tub.
“Just a few scratches,” she said flatly, not wanting to tell him about the package or the message within. She didn’t want to lie, and technically shewasscratched. She wanted to wait awhile, find out when the fan mail was delivered, before she said anything. No point in worrying everyone if it was nothing.
“I think that’s the dye out,” he said, placing a warm towel on her shoulders. She wrapped it around herself, embarrassed to be wearing so little.
“Thank you,” she said, relieved that she hadn’t had to do it herself. Her hand wasn’t aching any longer, thanks to the rest. She was still figuring out her limits, but dyeing and doodling had been a bit much for one day.
In the mirror behind Axel, she glimpsed the deep brown hair she hadn’t seen since she was a teenager. It made her feel like a different person.
“What’s the next step?” Axel asked.
“I just need a break, my neck is killing me.”
“While we wait, can I see what you were doodling?” he asked, taking a seat beside her against the bathtub.
She turned the notebook towards him to reveal a sketch of a thin paintbrush decorated with delicate flowers.
“Is that a tattoo?”
“Maybe.” She shrugged.
“I didn’t know you like to design tattoos.”
“I was just playing around. Trying to work on my control since my hand shakes when I try and do fine details. It’s not like I’d ever get one.” She didn’t like how defensive she sounded. So what if she liked tattoos? She hoped he won’t notice that she’d taken inspiration from the one on his ribs. She’d seen it in the garden when he was with Bart watering the flowers. Two drumsticks crossed with a band of flowers, except she’d used paintbrushes for her own version.
