Page 76 of Alive At Night

“Do you know how many sisters I have, Rosie?”

Without hesitation, Julian stepped behind me and started plucking the pins from my curlers, dropping them on the countertop in the bathroom.

“I don’t usually do my hair like this,” I admitted.

“I know.”

“How do you know?”

“Because this isn’t what your hair usually looks like.” He nodded to the curls he had already taken out, acting like it was obvious when it had taken all my ex-boyfriendsweeksto notice every time I got a haircut.

When I tried to help Julian with the curlers, he swatted my hand away and told me to take a few deep breaths. So I stood there, watching in the mirror as Julian’s brows furrowed in concentration. Barely a minute later, I was left staring at the finished product. Except something still wasn’t right. Sure, the curls looked good. Really good, actually. But, it also seemed plain.

“It isn’t right,” I said.

Julian raked his eyes over me in the mirror, assessing the result, and I suppressed a shiver at how focused his attention was on me.

“It isn’t you,” he muttered before lifting a single finger. “Hold on.”

After darting out of the bathroom and then darting back in, Julian held up one of my bows. My favorite bow. I loved it because it wasn’t so floppy that it just looked like shapeless ribbons, and it wasn’t too stiff that it looked like it should be on top of a present. But how and why did he have it?

“Did you go through my suitcase?”

“Yes,” Julian said without any further explanation.

We didn’t have time to argue about that now. “I don’t know if that will go with my dress.”

“I saw your dress in the closet. It’s black. This is black. Ergo, it goes.”

“Julian—”

“Trust me.”

Oddly enough, I did. I supposed it had something to do with confidence, and Julian had too much of it. Yes, he did have a plethora of sisters, but that didn’t mean that he was a hairstylist. He really shouldn’t be trusted.

Still, I let him start pulling and twisting my hair until it was pinned with my bow in a loose, low pony. A few curls draped my face, styled but nottoostyled. They bounced a little as I shook my head, testing if everything was adequately secured. It was. And I was inawe.

When Julian finished, he stepped back, appraised his work, and then muttered three words beneath his breath that momentarily halted mine.

“There she is.”

My mouth opened and closed once before any words could come out. “How did you do that?”

My hair was classic and glamorous, but it also had a touch ofme. Incredible.

He spoke quietly, eyes on me in the mirror. “Remember when Josie was cast as Glinda in the school’s production ofWicked?”

I nodded mutely, and he lifted one shoulder casually.

“She’d get so nervous before the shows, and I’d help with her hair so she could focus more on reviewing her lines.” He backed out of the bathroom, and I was still so shocked that I didn’t move until he returned a few seconds later, holding my dress out for me. “Let’s finish off the look, huh?”

Speechless, I took the hanger from Julian and closed the door to change. After shimmying into the dress, I quickly came to the conclusion that I wouldn’t be able to zip it on my own. Of course not—that would be too easy. Resigning myself to my fate, I walked backward into the bedroom, hoping that Julian would get the picture so I wouldn’t be forced to ask for more of his help.

He did. I didn’t even need to say a word. I felt his stilted breath on my neck and the slight tug on my dress as he worked the zipper up. His fingers brushed against my skin, and I assumed he was slipping the eye hook into place.

“All done,” he muttered. “Ready?”

The words lingered on my skin, and I closed my eyes.

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