Page 91 of The Recovery Coach
“Why are you panicking right now?”she asked.
“I’m not.”
“Okaayy.I’m going to change.Meet you in the bathroom?”
Hazy nodded, and she slipped into her room and closed the door behind her.
He set the supplies on his bathroom counter and shut the lid on the toilet for Livy to sit on.
When she joined him, she brought her hairbrush and clips, along with her hairdryer.Hazy smiled and took the pile of stuff from her.
“I do have my own hairdryer,” he said.
“Well, I didn’t know that, obviously.”
She wore a strapless black bikini.They’d learned early on in their beauty experiments that they would be ruining everything.Towels, hard surfaces, clothing.Everything.They never learned how to contain their mess.Hazy ordered more of his favorite towels while she changed because he knew they would be eviscerating the ones he had.
The practicality of her outfit choice did nothing to assuage his interest in her cleavage.He boarded up that part of his brain.It would do him no good here.
Maybe he should text Tiffany.
He shook his head as if he could physically shake the thought from his mind.
Livy brushed past him and sat sideways on the toilet, facing the shower.He stood behind her and detangled her hair.Then he mixed hair dye in the little bowl Livy had bought.
She spotted the remote for the TV, flipping it toPhineas and Ferb.They’d rewatched every episode multiple times, but it had become their background show.
“I can’t believe you have a freaking TV in your bathroom.”
“Hey, don’t judge.I like a good soak.”
That gave him an idea.He enjoyed his spa days with a bath beer.
“Do you want a drink?”he asked.“I’ll give you the full experience.We’ll do your hair and you can use one of my fancy face masks.I’ll paint your toes while your dye sets.”
“What did I do to deserve such special treatment?”
“I’m in the mood to spoil someone, and you’re here.”He handed her the bowl he’d been working on and gave her instructions to stir.“Rum and Coke?”he asked.
She went to work, mixing the dye.“Sounds great.”
He mixed the quickest drink of his life, making it strong as fuck because he’d filled her belly with pasta.When she took her first sip, her face puckered.
“Good lord, were you trying to kill a horse?”
He grinned.“No.I’m getting you drunk.Duh.”
“You didn’t make one for yourself.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.Did you want me to cut your hair tipsy?Because I can make that happen.”
She held up her drink in a salute and said, “Fair point.”Then she downed a third of the glass in one go.
Hazy put on gloves and began the process of hand-painting and blending the color into the ends of her hair.It was a finely honed skill.When they were kids, neither of them could afford the fancy hair dye often (and the internet told them to never touch the stuff sold in grocery stores).Hazy had learned how to do an ombre effect and leave her roots their natural dark blonde so the style lasted longer.Luckily her hair was light enough they’d never had to bleach it.
She sipped her drink and watched the show while he worked.
“This is nice,” she said.
