Page 31 of New Growth
She shrugged. “I’m just saying—I’ve had too many bad experiences with stylists whoclaimthey know what they’re doing.”
What was this girl’s problem?
“Well, I’m not just any stylist,” I said firmly, sectioning Esther’s hair with precision. “And I’ve been working on this technique for weeks. The goal is to keep the curls defined and beautiful without sacrificing softness. No more crunchy, stiff mess.”
Esther’s shoulders relaxed slightly under my touch as I worked in the lightweight hair gel I’d carefully formulated at home. “That sounds like a dream. My hair always looks cute for the first hour, then turns into a matted mess.”
“Not today,” I promised.
Hope put down her phone, leaning forward with a skeptical arch of her brow. “We’ll see.”
I shook my head at all the skepticism swirling around me.
Did neither of them have faith in me?
I’d spent countless hours perfecting this technique, tweaking every step until it was flawless. It was time to share it with the world—or at least with Esther and Hope, for now.
Slowly, my fingers glided through Esther’s soft curls, twisting and shaping each section. The process was therapeutic, especially the satisfaction of seeing each curl spring to life under my touch.
“So, what made you come up with this?” Esther asked, breaking the silence.
I hesitated for a moment. “You won’t judge me if I say?”
“Promise,” she assured me.
I took a deep breath, brushing a stray curl from her face. “When I was younger, I used to do my and my sister’s hair for school. My mother couldn’t braid to save her life, and Daddy—God rest his soul—wanted boys, so he never even tried to learn. So I ended up doing it. I didn’t mind, though. I liked our quality time.” I smiled faintly at the memory. “This whole thing reminds me of that. It makes me happy.”
Hope’s eyebrows furrowed together, her lips twisting into a frown. “The sister that fucked your fiancé?”
Esther gasped, grabbing the pillow that had been supporting her back and hurling it at Hope. “Stop being messy!”
“What?” Hope whined, catching the pillow with ease. “After everything that happened, I wouldn’t even want to think about that girl, let alone relive happy memories of her.”
I paused, my hands stilling in Esther’s hair. The room felt cramped for a moment, and I felt nauseous. But I was tired of carrying this particular burden.
“Honestly?” I began slowly, choosing my words carefully. “It would’ve been easy for me to hate her for what she did. And I know somewhere deep down, I probably still do. But my decision to use that time in my life for inspiration was based on who she was when I loved her. Before the betrayal.” I smoothed a curl between my fingers. “It’s like… a remembrance of that relationship. A reminder that the love still exists, even if it’s been reformed into something different.”
Hope rolled her eyes, unimpressed. “You’re an idiot.”
“Hope, I swear to God—” Esther started, her tone sharp with warning.
“It’s okay, Es,” I said, cutting her off. I turned to Hope, meeting her gaze steadily. “I pray you never have to mourn someone who’s still alive.”
Hope’s face fell, her usual boldness melting into something softer and more vulnerable.
A heavy silence followed, punctuated only by the sound of the speaker still blasting music. Esther tried to lighten the mood by talking about a popular trend she saw online as my fingers weaved through her hair. I continued to work quietly, letting their conversation fade into the background. The texture of Esther’s curls was perfect under my touch, each twist fell just right.
Finally, I stepped back, satisfied.
“Done,” I announced with a grin.
Esther’s eyes lit up as she stood and turned to the mirror. Her mouth fell open, and for a moment, she was completely speechless.
“Oh my God,” she finally breathed, her hands flying to her hair. “Elliot, this is beautiful! I didn’t think you’d be able to keep the softness, but it’s perfect!” She spun around to face me, her eyes wide with excitement. “How did you even do this?”
“It’s all in the technique,” I said with a playful wink. “And my concoction of products.”
Hope, who had been watching quietly from the corner, folded her arms.
