Arielle Stevenson, a determined hairstylist with dreams of owning her own salon, finds her past colliding with her present when NBA player Jordan Poole walks into her salon for a hair appointment. Despite Arielle's attempts to keep her distance, Jor...
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✧ 𝐣𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐞 ✧ The Curl Lounge Salon
She hated me.
I could see it in the way she looked at me and how she said my name that she hated me.
Her animosity was clear, radiating from her in waves. I couldn't blame her; if I were in her shoes, I'd probably hate me too after everything I put her through when we were younger. But seeing her here, of all places, caught me off guard.
I hadn't anticipated that selecting "Stevenson" from the stylist options would lead to her being the one to do my hair. As I sat there, grappling with the unexpected turn of events, a flicker of doubt crossed my mind.
Was this some twisted twist of fate?
Had the universe come up with some joke to bring us together again after all these years? The thought lingered in my mind, unsettling yet strangely interesting...
"So," I said with a smirk, trying to break the tension. "You're going to be my stylist?"
Arielle nodded tersely. "Apparently," she muttered, striding away through the beaded curtain that separated the lobby from the main salon.
I followed her, the weight of her silent disapproval heavy on my shoulders, until she motioned for me to take a seat.
"Jordan?" A voice sliced through the air, drawing my attention.I glanced over to see Stephanie and Halo shooting daggers in my direction, their hostility more than evident.
"Oh, hey, Steph. Hey, Halo," I greeted with a nervous chuckle, attempting to diffuse the tension.
Halo crossed her arms, her gaze piercing. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Just getting my hair done," I replied, trying to keep the mood light despite the gravity of the situation.
Stephanie arched an eyebrow skeptically. "And you conveniently managed to book Ari as your stylist."
"In my defense, only your last names were listed under the stylist options, so I had no idea it was her," I explained, sensing their judgmental stares.
Stephanie's dismissive eye roll and return to her client didn't escape me. Their coldness, though unexpected, was a reminder of the ripple effects my actions had caused. I understood Arielle's attitude towards me, but facing the collective cold shoulder from her friends was something I hadn't exactly braced myself for.
Then it dawned on me, that when you wrong one, you wrong the circle they belong to. It was a tough pill to swallow, but I respected it. Choosing to stay silent, I settled into the chair, letting Arielle take the lead.
The sensation of her hands working shampoo into my scalp made me think back to our college days in her apartment, back when she used to wash my hair, a routine so intimate and comforting. Those were simpler times, filled with mutual care and the kind of trust that's hard to find.The nostalgia was overwhelming, and before I could stop myself, the words just tumbled out.
