First Love: A Superbundle Boxed Set of Seven New Adult Romances (138 page)

After an eternity that makes me feel like my neck will break, Kimi lets me up to go back to her station. In the mirror I look huge with the satin kimono over my bulky hoodie. My hair falls in fat wet strings around my face. I am the most unattractive thing I’ve ever seen.

Brittany’s face pops into the mirror. I want to groan. I can’t believe my arch-enemy is in charge of my hair.

“Shall we cut it?” Kimi asks. “The ends are bad.” She holds up a handful of hair like it’s Exhibit A in a murder trial.

“Sure,” Brittany says. “Shave it off. No one will recognize her then.”

My eyes get very big. Brittany laughs. “God, you’re so easy to manipulate.” She turns to Kimi. “Just trim it. The red will be enough.”

I can’t believe I’m getting red hair.

After a while Brittany decides we’re in good hands and takes off. Colt drags a chair over to sit next to me. He looks like a warrior in the delicate chair, as if it might crumble into dust beneath his weight. “I like you covered in metal and blood,” he says.

I steal a glance in the mirror. Little bits of foil stick out all over my head. Kimi paints another lock of hair bright red and folds it into a silver square. She isn’t doing it all. In between the foil, bits of regular hair stick out like spurts from a fountain. I’ve gone from hideous to ridiculous.

“How long until this fades?” I ask her.

“It’s permanent,” she says. “But it will be less intense after six weeks.” She teases out another strand of hair with a spear-like comb. “I am softening the top so you won’t have terrible roots.”

I’m relieved, since I know I can’t afford to get this redone. Although I guess if Colt and Brittany want me to stay red, they’ll drag me back.

Kimi finally takes me over to a high-tech hair dryer that looks like it could beam me into space. I put on my angriest look as I broil in all my layers under the hot air.

“You have to take me to a fancy dinner after this,” I say to him, although I know I won’t go. I don’t have anything to wear.

“Anything the lady wants,” Colt says. “Although we should probably fly somewhere no one will recognize us, or you’ll have to go blue next time.”

He’s right. The whole point is to hide me. We’re stuck. “Okay,” I say. “But you’re buying the most expensive takeout pizza in LA.”

“Deal,” he says.

I’m struck with the total strangeness of this conversation. We’re talking like we’re a couple. Like going to dinner is normal, an ordinary thing. I feel like I’m living someone else’s life.

Kimi lifts the metal head casket off me and checks one of the pieces of foil. “Perfect,” she says.

We head back to the station, and she turns me away from the mirror. The foil piles up on a tray.

She starts snipping then, bits of hair falling to the floor. I feel alarmed at the amount that is piling up below the chair.

Colt sits back on a sofa, checking his phone. He fills the space, masculine in such a girlie spot. Kimi starts to dry my hair, pulling out each section with a round brush. My head gradually feels lighter. It smells divine and fruity, nothing like the ammonia hell of my grandmother’s beauty parlor.

When she clicks off the dryer, Colt looks up. His eyebrows hit his hairline. I wonder what he sees. I try to turn to the mirror, but Kimi holds me in place, removing the kimono and brushing stray hairs off my shoulders with a feather duster.

“Now you can look,” she says and whirls the chair to face the mirror.

I can’t even focus for a second, the image is so unexpected. Despite the dye being blood red, my hair isn’t. It’s a shimmery sort of auburn, mixed together with my natural brown. When I turn my head, the light shifts the color, making it deeper or lighter. It’s a better fit for my pale skin than my own hair.

Colt comes up behind me. “I don’t even think there are words for how beautiful you look.”

I can’t speak. The cut is simple, but classy. It angles in near my chin and falls in a cascade to my shoulders.

Colt leans near my cheek. “Sure you don’t want to take me up on that trip? I would love to show you off in Paris.”

My breath comes in jagged gulps. I can’t believe what I look like.

“We should get her a stylist,” Kimi says. “With this bone structure, she will fit in anywhere with some light touches.” She gestures to my eyes and cheeks.

“She’s perfect just like this,” Colt says. “She’s a fighter. This is exactly the look.” He picks up a few strands of my hair and lets it glide through his fingers. “I think I need to get you home.”

Kimi beams. “I am glad you like it.” She waves her hands. “Now shoo so I can go tend to my doggies.”

I turn to her. “Thank you, Kimi.” I thought I would be mad about the change. But I can’t be. It’s too amazing.

She bows to me. “You are most welcome. I hope to see you again.”

I steal one more look in the mirror, just to make sure it’s me. My hoodie and sweats are the same, but now instead of sloppy, I look like an actress on her day off.

Colt holds out his elbow. “I think I owe you the city’s most expensive pizza.”

I slide my arm through his. I’ve just figured out who I look like. Amy Adams in
Enchanted
. And I think that maybe I feel exactly the same.

Chapter 6

Colt realizes he can’t carry a pizza on his bike, so he has a driver bring an entire selection ranging from four cheese to one piled with caviar. We eat slices straight from the boxes on my sagging sofa, although when I see the fish eggs floating on white sauce, I close that cardboard box fast.

“I didn’t think anything could scare you,” Colt says. He reopens the caviar pizza and lifts it near my face.

I grab a piece. I can do this. The corner goes in my mouth. I haven’t even bitten down when the saltiness blasts my tongue. I want to spit it out, but I have a rep to protect. I bite a chunk off and swallow it whole.

Colt coughs through his attempt to stop laughing.

I drop the rest of the slice back in the box. “There. I did it.”

“I think that deserves a reward,” he says. He leans in and kisses me, licking at the salt still on my lips.

Finally
, I think. We get to go back to where we were before the hair salon. My belly flutters with nerves. I’ve never gotten very far before. And I want to.

But after a long, lingering kiss, Colt sets the pizza box back on the coffee table and stands. “Early training,” he says. “I’ll see when Buster thinks it’s safe for you to come back to the gym.”

I try to keep my disappointment out of my voice. “Okay.”

“You have a phone number or something I can call you on?”

I hesitate. I can reactivate my phone, but I don’t even know the number for it.

Colt squeezes my arm. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll send someone over.” He smiles lazily. “Or come myself.”

He leans in for one more kiss, then he’s gone. I walk around my apartment in a daze for a full half hour, touching the places Colt has been. I already want him back.

The next morning, I don’t want to get up in case the whole night was a dream. Then I remember my hair. I push aside the sheets and rush to the bathroom to look in the mirror, sure I’ll see the same old Jo.

But the girl with the shimmery red hair stares back at me.

Still not believing, I run back to the refrigerator. The stack of pizza boxes is still in there. I have enough food to last me a week.

There’s a knock at the door. Forgetting all about the secret pattern, I fling it open.

A strange man is standing there.

I’m about to slam it closed when he hands me a box. “Delivery for Jo Jones.”

I want to tell him I haven’t ordered anything, when I recognize the black Mercedes idling in the parking lot. It’s the one that brought the pizza.

I accept the box. The man nods and heads back across the broken pavement to the car.

Inside is a cell phone. I sit down on my sofa and pop it out of the plastic. It’s been activated and charged.

And there’s a message.

Skip the gym today to be sure the coast is clear. Learn the phone. It’s yours since I cheated you. Baker’s Street has a truffle pizza that is $30 more than what we ate last night. I am ashamed. Colt

I want to giggle. I feel like I’m sixteen again as I tap out a reply.

You are a scoundrel. I will never forgive you until that pizza arrives at my door.

I fall back on the cushions. I’m positively giddy. I add Zero to the contacts and send him a message too.

I’m back on the grid.

Then I realize the number is unfamiliar, so I add.

Kettle Belle.

He writes back instantly.

Your picture is everywhere! The world knows you!

I reply.

Not anymore. Hair red now.

His message is all exclamation.

!!!!I am coming over to see this!!!! Off at 4.

I spend the morning fiddling with all the features of the phone. I download the picture of me and Colt almost kissing, plus some of the others. I spend half the afternoon watching fights of Brittany getting her butt kicked, then some old matches with Colt, before he went on his losing streak.

I feel a little guilty, but I try to figure out who the girl is that got him all destroyed. But there is no mention of her anywhere. Publicly, his girlfriend has been Brittany for almost a year.

I’m on the phone so long that I drain the battery. Midafternoon I stick it on the charger and head to the fridge to try another type of pizza. I feel like a glutton, eating until I’m going to burst. Then I worry I’ve overdone it, so I spend the next hour doing push-ups and side kicks.

I can’t come down from my high.

I think of a million things I want to message to Colt, but I hold back. I don’t want to overwhelm him like a lovesick teenager. I go over the evening at the salon a million times in my mind. And the kissing before it. The feel of him hot and hard against me.

I know it’s going to be him who gets me past my fears and hang-ups. I’m finally going to let someone in. I’m going to take Colt McClure to bed. It’s something I never thought I could do, not since I left home.
 

The thought of my old life makes my mood go dark. I head over to the phone and sit on the floor so it can stay plugged in as I do a quick search for my stepbrother. I assume he’s somewhere. For a week after I ran away, I checked the media sites for his name and mine. But nothing ever came up. If there are charges against me somewhere, they weren’t important enough to make the news. So, he survived what I did to him.

There are lots of guys named Rich Mahoney on Facebook, but none are obviously him. I don’t have an account to do friend requests to see if any of the generic profile pics are actually his, but I wouldn’t risk that anyway.

I’m tired of thinking about him, so I search for images of Colt. There are thousands. I pick a few and make a secret gallery of them. I title it “Web Memes” so it won’t be obvious if someone starts looking. As if anyone who sees us together doesn’t know I have a crippling crush on him.

But is it still a crush if he is interested in me? I set down the phone and go sit in the same spot where we curled together last night. I want him there. I wonder how I can get him to come.

The special knock breaks the silence. I smooth back my hair, since I don’t know for sure who it will be. When I swing open the door, it’s Zero. The minute he sees me, his eyes go big. “Mamacita, your hair is a glorious rose!”

I laugh and let him in. As soon as the door is closed, he takes my shoulders to look at me hard. “You are like a bloom. Radiant. Glowing.” He narrows his eyes. “Did you do something cray cray with that fighter boy?”

I’m sure I am blushing fifty shades of red.

“You did!” Zero says. He grabs my elbow and moves me to the sofa. “Spill, baby girl. Tell Zero every scintillating detail.”

“I didn’t do THAT,” I clarify. “But we did get a little up close and personal.”

“I knew you’d get over your man-hate,” Zero says. “What was the best part about him?”

The first thing that comes to mind is that hard bulge between us, but I can’t tell Zero that. “His dimples,” I say.

“His what?” Zero seems offended.

“They’re uneven! One is deeper than the other.”

Zero shakes his head. “Shirley Temple has dimples. Not hot fighter boys.”

“Okay, okay.” I scoot to the edge of the cushion. I’m feeling hyper and edgy. “He has this way of taking my hair down.”

“Go on,” Zero says.

“It’s like he’s stripping me down to the real me.”

Zero nods. “I like him. He was totally worried about you when I went over to find you after the pictures went viral.”

“What did he say?”

“He wanted to know how to reach you.”

“And then you gave him my home address.” I eyeball him. “Where I live. Alone.”

Zero has the sense to give me puppy-dog eyes, like he needs forgiveness. “Your phone was out of commission. Besides, he’s really really hot. I think anybody would do anything he asks.”

I flush a little. “Was he shirtless?”

“Very.”

“Yeah, it’s hard to resist that.” I conjure the image of his chest and skin in my mind. My heart speeds up instantly.

“Girl, you are turning red as a cherry,” Zero says, then claps his hand over his mouth.

“It’s okay, Zero. You already know my history.” Some of it, I think to myself. I never told him what I had to do to protect my virginity from my stepbrother. Nobody needs to know that. All Zero knows is that I never stopped protecting it. Every belly I jabbed, every face I crunched, it was always about keeping myself out of someone’s slimy hands.

Until now, anyway.

I decide to change the subject before either of us gets too embarrassed. “So, I saw Angel yesterday.”

Zero sits up very straight. “What? Where?”

Now I have to confess. “I sort of went back to that dance hall where the show was.”

His forehead crumples in confusion. “Did you leave something behind?”

My heart, I think, but say, “No, I was just being stupid and sentimental. But Angel left his wings. He was there picking them up.”

I can see the color rising in Zero’s face. “Did something happen?” I ask. I remember Angel’s longing look, how he said he “crashed and burned.”