Page 116 of Love Unforgettable
“That’d make us about even, I think,” he says, his voice low as well. I hear someone in the background.
“Are you with someone?” I ask. He should be on his way already. Why would he be with someone else?
“Uh . . . yes, I am.”
Just like Trevor.
I can’t believe it.
Is he even planning on showing up? I guess I’ll find out.
“Aren’t you on your way already?” I ask.
“I am, yes.”
That’s when I hear the wordshtupingin the background. “Is that Mavis with you?” I ask.
I can practically hear his cringe before he answers.
Relief floods through me. I can’t believe I compared him to Trevor. Of course, he’s not like that.
“Now before you get upset—”
“It’s okay,” I interrupt. “I’m glad she’s coming. I was actually surprised she hadn’t insisted on it before now.”
“I’m glad to hear it, because—"
“Hey, cowboy, your girl’s got to get her hair done. You can make kissy noises later,” Kat yells into the phone, interrupting him.
“You heard the lady,” I say. “I’ll see you in a couple hours.”
“See you soon, sweetness.”
Jessica, the hair stylist, tells me it will take about two hours for my hair. So, the girls and I open a second bottle of champagne. Kat gets up to grab the red vines, bringing them back to within reach and Remi takes that moment to hit the restroom. I glance quickly in the mirror only to see foil pieces sticking out at all angles and the hairdresser painting a deep purple on some of the rest of my hair. It is not that I am not adventurous with my hair, because obviously I’ve worn it in varying shades of pink for the last few years, in a variety of styles but I am eternally devoted to my hairdresser and having anyone else touch my hair makes me nervous. Especially someone who works at a hotel.
“So, how long have you worked at the hotel?” I ask the woman working on my hair.
“Oh, I don’t work at the hotel. Cassandra, the makeup artist, and I were both hired by Mister Mason. I am at Evan Graham Hair Studio and she’s at Chanel.”
“Oh!” I say surprised. Evan Graham is a super swanky downtown San Francisco hair salon where basic cuts begin in the triple digits. I can’t even imagine what a cut, color, and style is.
Two hours later, my hair looks amazing, beyond my wildest expectations. And hopefully that’s not the champagne talking, and I’ll still feel the same way tomorrow. The shade of pink is much lighter and subtler, it almost blends with the natural blond of my hair. My natural color is more of a white blond. Somewhere in between the singer, Gwen Stefani, and Khaleesi fromGame of Thrones. She brushed my bangs to the side and gave me wispy layers on the sides so my hair falls loosely around my face in an almost unintentional style. She added a couple curls and flips to give it some sass, and tells me that in the future, I’ll be able to wash and go and have an actual style to my hair without much effort.
“You’re a miracle worker,” I say to Jessica as I swish my hair back and forth. I feel guilty for cheating on my regular hair dresser, but the transformation in my overall appearance is startling to say the least. I look like me, only better.
Lexie 2.0, the hot version.
I mean, I know I’m attractive, but I’m attractive-cute, not attractive-hot. Kat and Remi are attractive-hot.
Today, I’m right there with them.
Squeee!
