Jennie
This was a mistake, I thought as I watched Chaeyoung and Chu tool off in the golf cart. But, at the very least, it was one that I was intentionally making. This wasn't an accidental misstep. This was an on-purpose disaster. And I planned to enjoy every moment of it, I decided, as Lisa laced her fingers through mine.
I was taking an early morning stroll through Bluewater with the one who had delivered so many orgasms to me last night I'd lost count in a fog of boneless satiation.
The board would be furious. My mother would be appalled. My friends would demand details. And I just wasn't nearly as worried about all of it as I should be.
"How did our little 'not-so-faking it for the cameras' charade play last night?" I asked her. Not keen on exposing myself to the sharp troll talons, I'd yet to look at my phone. I also didn't want to deal with my mother's morning-after debriefing. If there was a god, the woman was still dead asleep and would wake up with a raging hangover that would render her unable to call me.
She freed her phone from her pocket again and thumbed over the screen while we walked.
I liked her like this. Casual gym clothes, messy hair, irresistible. Yes, there was shower sex in my immediate future.
"Very flattering," she mused, squinting at the screen.
She turned the phone to me.
Jennie Kim steps out with babysitter date
Billionaire babysitter Lisa Manoban
Kim and Manoban stun at gala
The photos were flattering. My hair and dress made quite the statement. I looked badass. And Lisa in her tux and broody good looks was the perfect complement.
"We look like some kind of cologne ad," I laughed.
"Painting a picture, darling. Now, what wasn't mentioned in any of those little headlines?"
"No salacious mention of drugs or arrests and collapses," I noted, impressed. "You didn't sleep with me just to add authenticity to your rumors, did you?"
She smacked me on the butt. "Very funny."
"My hair," I said, still studying the photos. "I loved it."
"It was very you," she said, tucking her phone back into her shorts and slinging an arm around my shoulders.
In this moment, we were just two regular people enjoying a lazy Saturday morning together.
"I don't suppose your hair talent extends to cuts," I mused, tugging the end of my still-damp ponytail.
She gave me—or, more accurately, my hair—a contemplative look. "What do you have in mind?"
"Something short and badass."
She stopped me on the path and cupped my jaw, moving my head this way and that. "I might have an idea," she said with a slow, sexy grin.
She started walking again, pulling me along behind her.
"Wait! You didn't confirm whether or not you were able to operate scissors responsibly!"
--
"You're sure you trust me?" Lisa asked, snipping the scissors in my face. I was perched on a barstool on my patio. A pool towel draped around my shoulders. Nerves in the form of my mother's disapproving voice had my pulse hammering.
Did I?
The woman routinely broke into my house. She picked pockets as a hobby. Professionally, she manipulated public opinion. And yet…
I nodded. "I trust you… with my hair," I said, feeling the need to add the caveat.
"Well, it's a start."
She finger-combed my hair, still damp from our—ahem—post-workout shower. She was a biological marvel. My body responded to her like it was starved for her. I slammed my eyes closed as a good four inches of tasteful brunette hair fluttered to the terrace.
"Do you often cut your lovers' hair?" I asked, feeling the flutter of nerves and excitement in my stomach. Fortunately, the nerves didn't run deeper, and my intestines stayed unknotted. To most, it was simply a haircut. To me, it was a long overdue statement.
"My styling skills are exclusive to my mother's hair," she said, snipping away cheerfully.
"You get to cut the hair of the hair stylist? That's the highest industry praise."
She moved in front of me, eyes still on my hair. She lifted my chin and clamped a comb in her teeth.
I loved the feel of her hands in my hair. So competent. Confident. Intimate.
I did trust her. And it didn't make sense. But not much in my life did at this point.
"She got sick a few years ago," she explained around the comb.
Snip. Snip. Snip. She took the comb out of her mouth and ran it through my hair.
"Cancer. Chemo. I cut her hair for her. Then shaved it when it was time. She refused to let any of us shave our heads in solidarity, though," she said fondly. "Hair, especially other peoples', is very important to my mother."
"How is she now?" I asked.
"Healthy as a thoroughbred horse," she said with pride.
Snip. Snip.
She paused and squirted some product into her hand. Rubbing her palms together, she studied me. Cocky now. "Yes. This will work," she decided, shoving those hands into my hair and massaging at the roots.
"Your family sounds close," I ventured.
"We are," she agreed. "We've always been on the same team. My mother demands complete loyalty. You'll see when you meet her."
"I'm not meeting your mother," I scoffed.
"I've already met your parents. It's only fair. Besides, you'll like mine."
"We've spent exactly one night together. That is not meet-the-parents territory."
She ran her fingers through my much, much shorter hair again. "Relax, love. I'm not trying to declare my undying love for you. I'm trying to find a way to show off this incredible cut to my mother," she said, handing me a mirror.
My hair was still damp, but with the cut and the product, oh, I liked what I saw. Brunette hair came to an abrupt stop at my shoulder. From a deep side part, it swooped across my forehead with volume and attitude. It looked confident, sexy. Badass.
"Some texturizer and a little drying time, and you're set," Lisa said, crossing her arms and admiring her handiwork.
I bit my lip. "It looks good, Lisa. Really good."
"Darling, you could shave your head and tattoo your scalp and you'd still be stunning. But this," she ruffled my hair, letting it fall over my eye. "This is you."
I felt my mouth curve in a self-satisfied smile. "It really is, isn't it?"
"I'm glad you recognize yourself," she said with a smirk.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, still admiring the cut, the layers, the texture.
"You spend most of your time picking out masks. It's nice to see you being you for once."
"I don't wear masks," I argued, handing the mirror back to her. I rose and brushed stray hairs off me.
"You have your Office Jennie, your Lunch with Mother Jennie, your Day in the Lab Jennie," she said, ticking them off on her fingers.
"There are expectations," I began, sliding off the stool and shaking the towel out.
"The only expectations I'm concerned with are yours."
"I expect my stylists to keep their opinions to themselves," I shot back.
She grinned dangerously at me. "Why start now? You have a tremendous opportunity here, Jennie. You're starting fresh."
I stepped back when she made a move toward me, but she was faster. I found myself hauled against her chest.
"You, Jennie Kim, are one-of-a-kind. It would be a damn shame if you waste one more second of pretending to be something you're not to make someone else more comfortable. Be yourself in all situations. Wear your red lipstick into the lab. Address your board in kickboxing gear. Take a day off. Cut your damn hair when you feel like it. You're in charge. And you're going to win."
I breathed her in. Feeling the sun on my skin. The breeze lifting my new hair. My body warmed at her touch. This all felt so new. There was an energy here. A momentum. A buzz of excitement for what was next.
The dread that had been my shadowy companion for the past few weeks was dissipating. And for the first time, I felt like I could see the sunshine at the end of a very long tunnel.
"I can't wait," I whispered.
"For what?" she asked, brushing indecent kisses down my exposed neck.
"To tell the girls you cut my hair. There will be swooning," I predicted.
She laughed softly. "Do you like it?"
I shook my head. "I love it."
I thought she'd kiss me then, but those brown eyes rivaling the saltwater behind her fixed on my face.
Slipping my arms around her neck, I tugged at the hairs that curled there. "Thank you for seeing me."
"Thank you for letting me see you."
Her lips were warm and firm as they moved over mine.
"Want to show the dolphins how it's done?" I teased.