How Could I Not Tear You Apart

Chapter Six

one of my clients actually said they stalked me on social media and then proceeded to say they liked how i'm not embarrassed to wear what i want. 

what did she mean by that

Chapter Six

Avoiding Maddie wasn't just something to attempt anymore, it was a necessity.  It's been two weeks since the coffee cup incident, and I've been going strong in avoiding her. On my days off, I stay in my bedroom like a fucking hermit. On her days off, she usually still in bed by the time I come home from work, so I can quickly hide.

As much as I hate my former apartment, I am beginning to wish I hadn't left.

"Gansey." My boss, Charlotte, glances over at my station, "Your next client doesn't get here until three, we have a walk-in. Do you want her?"

"Haircut?" I ask, and she nods.

"Sure."

I'm usually fully-booked, so I don't take walk-ins as much as I used to when I first started. Still, I find it hard to say no when my boss asks me.

I glance over and happen to notice Cecily staring at me. The day after I had cut my hand, she was the only one who asked about my bandages. I feel like she watches me, and I don't know why. She rarely talks to me, but I know she's watching, listening.

I go to the front desk, and greet the walk-in, who happens to be a woman my age. She has tightly coiled 4b hair, and I have a vague idea what she's going to ask for before I even say a word to her.

"Hello, I'm Gansey, I'll be your stylist." I hate introducing myself to anyone. It feels weird, and I've never got used to it.

I stare at the girl, she's wearing black leather jacket, and dark jeans and my eyes gravitate to the several different pieces of jewelry all throughout her body. She has four separate rings on, and an accumulation of bracelets that jingle together when she moves. Her earrings are large gold hoops and lipstick, she has a deep red lip color on that only accentuates her skin tone.

My attention is suddenly glued to her, and I struggle to look away. She is tall, slender, and holds herself confidently, just like a model.

She is beautiful.

"Hi, I'm Carys." She gives me a very warm smile, and I watch her stare at my face, then my chest, then the rest of my body. 

She's trying to figure out what my gender is. I know what people do when they look at me. I never bother to answer to their confusion, it feels odd to mention it when they don't outright ask. 

I guide her to my station, and put on her cape. I ask her what she wants, and my predictions are right. 

"I miss my afro, my hair is so long it weighs it down."

Her hair definitely was on the longer side. I tried to make eye contact with her, but every time I did she was staring right back at me. Her expression is so kind that it's unnerving. She's so pretty I suddenly feel way too aware of my own appearance.

"I tried to book online. I even wanted to book with you, it said you weren't accepting new clients."

I clear my throat, "Yeah, you just so happen to come in right as I had a cancellation."

I see her comfortably lean back in the chair, "I'm lucky then. I wasn't even sure if you guys did walk-ins. I'm glad I got you."

There is a hidden meaning behind her words, but I'm too stupid to figure out what it is. I take her to the sink, wash her hair, return to the chair, and get to work.