Rule 14 - Domino

Isat in the chair and begrudgingly let the stylist put the cape over me as I handed Swayze my camera.

"What are we doing today, sweetie?" She lifted one of my matted curls. I could see her smile twitching. My eyes went to the ceiling, but they flicked over to Swayze, who had just come back with coffee. He chuckled at the stylist looking horrified by the state of my hair.

"I know my color needs refreshed," I relented. "I"m, uh, not sure about the rest."

"Well, I"ll wash and condition it, and then comb out the knots. Then we"ll see what we"re working with."

Swayze slurped his coffee loudly and relaxed in the chair beside mine. He scrolled on his phone aimlessly while I was taken to the sink and she started the process of fully transitioning me back to the rich bitch I was born to be. I forced the anxiety down and focused on Swayze once I got back to the chair.

"What"s after this?" I asked.

He didn"t look up from his phone. "Clothes. And I have an address for shoes."

I wiggled my feet. Dad had always made sure I had stylish shoes, despite my disability. When I ran away, I packed as many of my LLD shoes as I could. Once I grew out of them, however, it was harder to come by the money for them. Now I was down to one pair. I was excited to order new shoes.

"You want the same bleached stripe and copper colors?" the stylist asked as she tugged on my head with her comb.

I glanced at Swayze. He nodded, sending a ripple of butterflies through me again. Why did I care what he thought?

"Yes, please."

Eventually, my nerves subsided as she chatted with me. She had no clue who my family was and had only been to the park once or twice. I relaxed as I decided she was just another stylist, with nothing to gain by messing with me.

"I think some bangs, keep your length, but trim it up, get rid of the dead ends, and give it a little volume. What do you think?"

I blushed slightly. "I haven"t been to a professional stylist in like..."

"Seven years?" Swayze piped up.

She gasped. "Seven years? I"m amazed your hair looks as good as it does! Oh, you poor thing. I"m going to make you look so good. You"re gonna want to come back every few months, not years!"

She disappeared to get the dye. Swayze leaned forward in his seat.

"So, how was it?"

"How was what?" I asked.

"The freedom. I assume it was a lot more fun out there." He waved his hand. "Than being stuck at the park."

I swallowed. It felt like he was baiting me.

"I don"t want to talk about my time away."

His lips curled into a pout. "I thought you were going to give me a tattoo tour."

"You first. Although with how much you walk around the camp with barely anything on, I"m pretty sure I"ve seen everything." I smirked.

"I assure you, you haven"t." The way his eyes bore into mine sent my heart into a tizzy. I had to look away. "Okay, here"s my newest one." He lifted his shirt.

I turned back and gazed at the scorpion he was pointing to. It ran over his toned abs. "It covers my kidney scar."

My heart sank again for him as I stared at the inked flesh, searching for the scar hidden beneath it. "How did it happen?"

His eyebrows rose in surprise. Had he thought I didn"t know about it? "I was impaled by a broken rod at work."

"Oh my god," the stylist gasped. "Did you sue?"

"I"m not legally allowed to talk about it," he told her.

My mind was reeling. Dennis had drowned, Koi lost his eye, Swayze had lost his kidney, and just last week, a woman had lost her leg! What was going on?

"Your turn," Swayze interrupted my thoughts. "Which was your first tattoo?"

My head was down so I couldn"t fully look at him. "I have the words "Get up, coward" tattooed on the inside of my leg."

"I want to see."

I lifted my foot and the stylist spun me around for him to lift the cape and gaze at my freshly shaven leg. There, in distressed lettering, were the words that had gotten me through a lot over my seven years on the road.

"It looks like you did it yourself."

"I did." I grinned, thinking back to that night in particular. "My friend, Jackie O Nasty, was obsessed with making tattoo machines like they do in prison. I volunteered to be one of his firsts to try using one of them."

Swayze held onto my shoe for longer than needed to see the tattoo. His pinkie finger twitched, touching right above my high tops. My skin grew hot and I suddenly couldn"t breathe.

"How old were you?" His voice was hard and surprised me.

"Thirteen," I said matter-of-factly.

The stylist quipped, "I have a daughter who's thirteen. If she came home with a tattoo, I"d die right then and there. Girl, you"re something else." She laughed off her nervousness.

But I wasn"t paying her any mind. I was too busy studying Swayze. He looked... furious. But why? I moved my foot back to the little bar on the chair, and he returned to his seat.

"Tell me about your other ones," he demanded.

A little shaken, I went on, pointing to all the places on my legs and arms I"d allowed my friends to ink. Some were good, others not so much, but each had a story about a wonderful person and experience in my life. I treasured them all.

A second stylist came around and began waxing my brows and offering me creams and other treatments. I hadn"t realized how fancy this place was but agreed to allow her to give me a makeover as well. All the while, Swayze and I chatted. Sometimes, it was pleasant, but when my past was brought up, he would start to scowl, and I knew I had to return to less intense things.I wasn't sure why he didn't like hearing about my past, and I made a mental note to ask later.

Hours later, the cape was removed and my hair was styled and fluffed out. She turned me around, and I blinked. "What do you think, sweetie?" she asked me.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I looked… different. All the years of hard life on the streets had created someone who didn"t care about appearance. I didn"t need facials and curled hair and lipstick but... I looked...

"Beautiful." Swayze stood and came over to me. He held out his hand and helped me out of the chair. He pulled me into his arms, and for a moment, I forgot all about the dark things in my life. Marisol, Dennis, and the park as a whole. I was lost in Swayze"s rainwater eyes and playful smirk.

"Stop." I blushed and stepped out of his arms.

"What? You look good." He smiled.

"Great!" the stylist interrupted our moment by clapping excitedly. "Let"s get you checked out."

Swayze took me to the LLD shoe place, and I ordered two new sets of high-tops, one black, and one red. Swayze came with a list, and we ordered about a dozen other types, courtesy of Fabian.

Finally, we made it to the mall, where we had lunch and I started buying clothes.

"So, you like the park enough to come back every year?" I asked, picking out a pair of black shorts.

"It"s tradition. We do it for Dennis. This is our last year," he said. As the day went on, he"d loosened up from shitty and rude to downright pleasant. It was almost as if the further we got from the park, the better things were.

"What are you going to do next?" I handed him a sundress. His hands were full of all of my clothes and bags.

"Koi has a spot guaranteed at the fire department, and I"ve already finished school, so I"ll be an EMT."

I paused, a pair of fishnets in my hand. "Oh wow. I wouldn"t have guessed that."

"And I never would have guessed you"d return." He snickered.

"I didn"t plan on it," I muttered.

"Speaking of planning, did you plan on trying on any of this?" He lifted one of the dresses out of the pile in his arms.

"Can I trust you not to peek if I go to that dressing room over there?" I pointed to the closet with a curtain that covered barely anything.

Swayze"s expression darkened, and the grin that spread on his face sent chills down to a place that was... new to me.

"No," he said.