12. Haircut Stickup

twelve

Violet

"In the storage closet?!"

I wince, snapping my phone away from my ear. Has Ruthie always been this extra? I pinch the inner corners of my eyes and rub them for a second, like that somehow makes all of this better.

"Ruth, can you please shut the hell up?"

Ruthie gasps dramatically, and I can only imagine the invisible pearls she's clutching.

"Don't use my legal name, Violet Jean Wolfe. I'm not the one who fucked my employee, in a storage closet!"

"Technically she's an independent contractor," I mutter, like that changes anything.

Not that I want anything to change. Well, maybe Angela's stupid, twat-blocking policy. But the rest of it, I'm pretty pleased with.

Pleased, and completely shocked. I knew Cam had an attitude, but given her constant stuttering and dislike toward the majority of humanity, I have to admit, I'm impressed. I didn't expect her to do something so ballsy, like kiss me.

I definitely didn't expect her to let me do that.

"Same difference. Are you coming down for Christmas? Tyler won't stop talking about how much she misses Reese." She pauses. "And you, of course."

I let out a soft chuckle, knowing she added that last bit just to make me feel better. Rough fingertips trace my scalp as I run my fingers through my hair.

6Do I miss Ruthie and the girls? More than anything. But I don't know if I can stand being within a thirty-mile radius of my parents for more than a few hours. And the fact that they're leeching off Ruthie, living in the house she and Jeramiah worked so hard for?

"Vi, please come. I can't do another holiday without you. Plus, it's going to be their first Christmas without Mal."

"Are you really going to play that card on me?"

Truthfully, she has a point. Even though Ruthie was never really a fan, the girls loved their Aunt Mal. Willow is too young to really miss her, but Tyler's old enough to know things are different. Mallory used to teach her different dance routines during the holidays, and at the end of the night, Tyler would make everyone huddle on the couch to watch her perform. It was the only thing that could force me into the same room as my parents.

Sometimes, I wonder how Ruthie is able to cut them so much slack. They dragged us away from Oregon when we were too young to remember. So instead of growing up surrounded by culture and family and jaw-dropping views of the Pacific Ocean, I got to live in Happy Trails Trailer Park in Clarkston freakin' Washington. I don't know if that name was intentional, but I like to think it was, seeing as it's the only interesting thing about the place.

But that isn't even a portion of my issue with Elon and Gemma Wolfe. My feud is fueled by the fact that they spent their twenties becoming addicted to whatever they could get their hands on, rather than raising the two kids they chose to put on this planet. So, as the only one home with the motor skills to function, I single-handedly kept Ruthie alive.

She turned out alright, considering.*

"Fine," I grunt, checking the time. Shit. "I'll be there. But I gotta go. Love you."

"Love you!" Ruthie calls out. I hang up and slide my phone into my pocket.

Remember when I said looking at someone that you've kissed like you haven't kissed them is impossible? Yeah. Trying not to look at someone whose pussy you ate like it was angel food cake in a storage closet is so much harder.

"Are you having another stroke?" Cam asks in a tone I'd like to fuck out of her. My eyes dart up to meet hers. Shit. Was I staring again? "I told you he'll be ready in ten."

A pair of curved shears glide over the top of a golden retriever's grinch-like feet. The loose feathers fall as she slices through them seamlessly, golden threads floating through the air.

"Right!" I smile but still don't move. It feels like my feet have been cemented to the floor. Like my eyes have been super glued to Cameron. She lifts an eyebrow, jutting her chin out with attitude.

"Aren't you going to go let his mom know?"

I forgot about that part.

"Right."

I nod, this time literally pulling my feet off of the concrete and forcing my way over to the lobby. Normally, I'd be happy to run this quick little errand, stoked to do anything to help anyone. But since Tuesday, anything that isn't looking at Cameron Miller feels like a chore.

I need to snap out of it, but I'm not exactly sure how to. This hasn't ever happened to me before. Being around someone never made me so… needy.

Not that Mallory wasn't gorgeous herself. But even in the beginning stages of our relationship, I was much more focused on building us a life than I was on getting her into bed. Don't get me wrong; we had sex. A lot of it, actually. But for the most part, I hadn't been the one to initiate it. I had other things to think about. The only reason I even wanted to take someone home that night at Monsey's was because I could finally do it without feeling dirty. The relationship was over, and it had been for a long time. But the legality of it hung over my head like a constant reminder of what Mallory did to me.

It scared me that I could ever do anything that could be perceived as similar.

But I guess that's the point of hookups like these.

One-night stands, no-strings attached. The sole purpose of your interaction is sex, so you aren't busy thinking about anything else.

Unfortunately, I hadn't considered that when Cam's pretty little pussy was sitting on my face. I kind of forgot about the fact I'd have to see her on a daily basis, in a professional setting.

"She's got about ten minutes left," I say to Jessa's mom, flashing her a smile. I hope it's the normal kind, and not the I'm-totally-thinking-about-sex-at-work kind.

"Can you ask her to not trim the feet this time? My husband wants to grow them out."

Oh. I keep smiling, now hoping it's not the you-are-way-too-fuckin-late kind.

"Oh! Umh," I stall, unsure of why because the brief time I'm gaining is not nearly enough to build a time machine. "Did you let Martha know at drop off?"

Martha's head shoots up from behind the desk at the sound of her name, her eyes darting over to me in panic.

"Yes," the woman says confidently. I swallow, then let the I'm-so-fucking-sorry kind of smile creep across my face. When you work in customer service, you learn lots of kinds of smiles.

"I think," I say, even though I actually know, "she may have already cut them." The woman frowns, irritated, and I know I have about three seconds until she erupts into a flaming ball of fire. "But I can give you a free day of daycare if you'd like!"

Normally, I don't offer free services to someone until they're in the screaming "I'm leaving a one-star review" stage. But it isn't Cam's fault that Martha forgot to put the note in. She shouldn't have to suffer. Jessa's mom crosses her arms, tapping a long acrylic nail against her bicep.

"Okay," she says after a moment. "Alright. Don't worry about it. Can you bring her out to the car when she's done?"

I try to hold in my relief rather than sighing it out.

"Absolutely!" I say with a smile. The woman walks out and climbs into her shiny black Mercedes. I turn to Martha.

"Shit, Vi! I'm so sorry. It was really busy this morning and—"

I put my hand up, not dismissively but rather in comfort.

"Oh it's fine." I wave. "Just put one in there for next time, will you?"

Martha nods and immediately begins to type furiously on the keyboard.

"You owe me," I say when I get back to the salon.

Cam loops a slip lead over Jessa's head and guides her down from the table. She looks at me, confused.

"Why?"

"Because Jessa's mom was on the verge of throwing an absolute bitch fit about her feet getting trimmed. I offered her a free day of daycare though, so we're all cool now."

Both of Cam's eyebrows shoot up, and she rifles through her toolbox, pulling out the day's schedule that Martha had kindly color-coded.

"Was that in the notes? I—"

"Oh! No, no." I shake my head, watching as the tensed muscles in her face slowly relax. "No, Martha forgot to put it in."

Cam holds out her hand like she's gripping an invisible purse. "Then why should I owe you?"

"What?"

"If it wasn't my fuck-up, and I did what I was told I was supposed to do, why do I owe you?"

Cam is confusing because, when she's not completely unsure of herself and the entire world around her, she is extremely fucking direct.

"Well, I…um—"

"Mhm?"

"You know, because she could have—"

"Could have?"

Cam's eyebrow arches, waiting patiently for an answer she knows is never coming. I, however, am not yet ready to accept defeat.

"Well, she could have refused to pay," I finally get out. Not the strongest argument, but at least it's something. Cam shakes her head.

"I can't really see you letting that happen," she says, walking over to me with the leash stretched toward my hands.

"I would," I lie. "In the right circumstances. Like, if she had a gun or something."

That dimple returns to Cam's cheek as she smiles and holy fuck. How does something so innocent drive me so wild? Her shimmering dark eyes give my own eyes no choice but to look.

"A robbery," she says, her hand grazing mine as she hands the leash to me. "For a haircut?"

My cheeks flush but I pretend it's from the heat of the room, rather than the heat of the moment. Cam's right. Without ventilation in this room, the water hangs in the air like dew on a humid morning.

"Wow, we really need to put those vents in here, huh?" I shake the front of my shirt, as if I'm trying to ventilate it just to seal the deal.

"Get on it, boss," she says, turning around. Her hips sway in a completely natural and totally sexy manner. Not forced, like Mallory. Cam isn't putting on a show. She's just naturally the star of the film. "I've been waiting."

My throat bobs as I swallow, hard. I was wrong the other night, when I said we were starting from the beginning. We're past it, I think. The uncomfortable avoidance.

Who knew all it would take was finishing the job I started?

"I'll call the electrician now."

When closing time rolls around, I do my regular walk-through, then go to the lobby to turn off the "open" sign.

"Bye Vi!" Adrian waves, and Avery nods, stepping out the door behind them.

"Night guys!" I say back. "Careful out there, it's supposed to freeze."

Avery shoots me a thumbs up, the door closing behind him. I turn the lock and watch them walk through the dimly lit parking lot. A gold shimmer catches my eye, my gaze drawing over to Cam's car. I think about that night in the rain, how her car wouldn't start, and secretly wish it'd happen again so I have an excuse to drive her home.

But I don't have an excuse, and unfortunately, I'm above popping hoods and cutting wires to force the idea. I am above that, right?

"Staying late again?"

I turn around, and my eyes land on that pretty round face of Cam's as she leans against the desk. Dawson sits next to her, his tail swatting the laminate flooring. I shake my head.

"No," I answer, walking up to her. Then, I lean down and scratch behind Dawson's lopsided ears. His head tilts into the touch, his mouth stretching wide to show his satisfaction. "I was actually getting ready to leave. You?"

Cam shakes her head, gesturing toward her dog. "I think he might kill me if I make him wait for dinner a minute longer."

I let out a soft laugh, knowing all too well that nothing on the planet is more demanding than a hungry dog.

"How pissed was he last week?" I ask. For a second, I regret asking it. Things had just become normal between us, and I feel like I just unraveled all that progress in six words. But Cam just laughs, that dimple plunging deep into her cheek.

"Pretty pissed," she admits. "But it was worth it."

Her words shock me, only because I know she means them. I bite back a smirk, bowing sarcastically.

"My pleasure," I say, now letting the smile on my face grow. "And yours, apparently."

Cam laughs, her eyes rolling to the ceiling.

"As far as I know."

My cocky smile drops, my brows pressing together.

"What?"

"Nothing," Cam says, her jaw snapping shut as her face grows red.

I shake my head, stepping closer to her.

"Nope." I cross my arms. "You didn't let me get away with that, so I'm not letting you. Was that—" I suck in a breath, then swallow. "Was that your first time?"

If I am the asshole that took this woman's virginity in a dirty storage closet, I think I'll hate myself forever. Cam's eyes widen, and she waves both her hands frantically in front of her.

"What? No! That's not—"

"You said as far as you know."

"I know, but not like that. Like—"

"Like what?"

Cam stares at me blankly, her face growing redder by the second. Her mouth keeps opening, as if she's going to speak, but it simply closes each time she tries.

"Cam, if that was your first time, I am so sor—"

"I lied."

Cam blurts it out like it's been dancing on the tip of her tongue forever, and her eyes drop to the floor.

"I didn't just get startled by the woman knocking on the door. I—" She swallows, and I feel the muscles between my brows tense. What? She what? "I've never been with a woman before. And it wasn't some radical realization I just came to; I always knew I was bisexual. My cards were just all male up until that night. And I got out of a relationship last year, and the whole thing—well, yeah. So, I was supposed to be finding a one-night stand, and it was supposed to be with a woman. And I was scared. But it didn't scare me because I was unsure, it scared me because I wasn't. I knew I wanted it, and I never wanted something that I didn't already have. That…sounded stupid. Okay, um…"

She fumbles over her words, her eyes scanning the floor like she's reading a script she formed in her head.

"It doesn't," I cut in before she can reduce the meaning of it all. "Sound stupid, I mean. I get what you mean, I think. Like—"

I stop. Do I really get what she means, or is that just something I'm saying to make her feel better?

Usually, I wouldn't care. In the past, the goal has alwaysbeen to make people feel better, no matter what the cost was. But Cam isn't like that. She doesn't want someone to make her feel better. She wants someone to tell her the truth.

I like that about her.

"I could be wrong," I say honestly, taking another step closer. "But, at least for me, it's like…craving a food you've never had before. You know you want it. You know you'll like it. But it's strange to feel so confident about that when you've never tried it."

Cam's gaze flicks back up to me, the tension in her face slowly easing. I don't normally open up to people. Not about things like this. But Cam just trusted me with a piece of herself so easily, and I can't help but feel like I owe it to her to do the same.

"I just went through a divorce," I explain, my voice slightly shaking when the word comes out. Not shaking in an emotional way. Shaking in a foreign way. I think I made it through the entire thing without ever actually saying the word out loud. "We were high school sweethearts, so she was the only person I had been with in…" I let out a short laugh. "Almost ever, really. And that night, with you, that was the first time I ever tried to..." I sigh. "Well that was the first time I tried to have a one-night stand. I knew I wanted it. I knew I'd like it. But I had never done it before. Was it anything like that?"

My pulse quickens, the beat of my heart rapping against the inside of my ribcage. I take a slow breath in through my nose, trying hard to remain subtle. I haven't told anyone that before, and even though it really doesn't matter, in this fleeting moment, I suddenly feel like it does. My mouth begins to dry as I look down at Cam, scanning her face for a reaction. My eyes find her soft, pink lips, the corners of them tugging up so sweetly I feel like I'm in a candy store.

"Yes, actually," she says, a hint of surprise in her tone. "That's exactly what it's like."