Long Hair Don't Care

by Maggie Dallen

  Her lips turned down in a small frown of confusion. “But the sun is setting. Why would I need sunglasses?”

  “One look and everyone will know you’ve been crying,” I said.

  Not exactly the smoothest words I’d ever said to a girl, but it did the trick. She flipped down the rearview mirror, groaning when she caught sight of her reflection.

  I nudged the glasses into her hands. “Just until you find a bathroom and can splash your face with some water.”

  She sniffed and nodded. “Yeah, I have to do makeup for Rapunzel anyway as soon as I find the bathroom.” She fidgeted with the glasses now in her hands. “Thanks.”

  “One more thing.” I acted before she could respond, reaching out and tugging a bobby pin from the bun.

  Her lips parted in surprise, and she was so close I learned in an instant just how lush her lips were when she wasn’t pressing them together in a thin line. With a few more plucks, her thick blond hair fell in a cascade around her shoulders.

  “There,” I said, sitting back to view my handiwork. The long locks in front fell into her face, shielding her tear-stained cheeks and red, puffy nose. “Between that and the glasses? No one will know.”

  Relief and something else filled her gaze. Curiosity? Or maybe confusion. Whatever it was, I felt an answering tug in my chest.

  Crap, this girl had a crazy effect on me and I had no idea why.

  “Thanks,” she said one more time.

  She was halfway out the door when she leaned back in. Backlit by the glow of the house lights behind her, with her loose hair softening her features, and her lips curved up in a smile...

  My lungs stopped working as I stared at her. She looked like an angel.

  I leaned forward. To do what? I didn’t know. She was so beautiful and I was drawn toward her like a moth to a flame. I had visions of shocking her with a kiss, or asking her for her number, or—

  “I owe you one,” she murmured.

  My heart did a bellyflop as she flashed me that rare smile—right before slamming the door in my face.

  Five

  Willow

  * * *

  Savannah’s glowers were known to be epic. Right now her gorgeous features were pinched in a fierce glare. It would have been frightening if I didn’t know it was based in motherly concern. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I smiled as I herded a little boy back toward a bin of toys. He and his twin sister kept making attempts to escape. “I promise.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Uh huh.” She didn’t sound convinced. Not surprising, considering the fact that even after washing my face and putting on some makeup, the telltale signs of tears were still evident.

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  I was better than fine. I was healthy. I wasn’t sick. I was low on iron, but with some supplements and better eating, the doctor was sure I’d be back to normal in no time.

  But most of all, the cancer was not back.

  I was still processing this. I was also still trying to figure out what on earth was going on with me. I mean, honestly. Yelling at a near stranger one week and then crying on his shoulder the next?

  Who was that? It couldn’t have been me. This was not how I acted. My life has always run within a series of rules. I might have established them for myself, but that made them no less strict or binding. In fact, that made them more binding because they were mine. They were the laws to which I was beholden. They were how I made my way through life. They were how I managed the world around me, and they were the only reason I was able to be such a trustworthy, responsible, and self-sufficient member of my family.

  They were the walls that had kept me intact as a kid when I might have fallen apart or given up. They were the barricade against emotional chaos. They were what held me together and kept me upright.

  So why did it feel like the walls were crumbling?

  The thought came with a shiver that raced down my spine.

  What the heck was going on with me?

  I’d been seeing cracks and holes for the past two weeks, but today it was like an earthquake had hit. The moment the doctor smiled and delivered the good news, I’d felt the ground shake beneath my feet—metaphorically, at least.

  The ground had lurched, and my carefully constructed world was rocked to its foundation. And now I felt...well, shaken. Rattled. And like I still wasn’t certain I was standing on solid ground.

  I was not a fan of this feeling.

  “Rapunzel, we need you,” Isla called out. Her voice held more than a little desperation, and Savannah’s glower of concern faded as she and I exchanged a knowing smirk.

  Isla was the newest member of the troupe, and she was still adapting to the whole being-surrounded-by-kids-with-sticky-hands-and-shrill-voices thing.

  “Coming,” I called out.

  Savannah put her hand on my arm, but I cut off another round of concerned questions with a shake of my head. “I’m okay, Savannah. I swear.”

  She dropped her hand with a sigh. “Fine. But I already texted Callie that I was worried about you, so be prepared for a whole lot of hugs at the afterparty.”

  I was torn between a sigh and laugh. The pay was decent, the hours were good—but it was the people I worked with that kept me coming back to the Princess Troupe every year.

  “She’s not even working tonight,” I said.

  Savannah shrugged. “You know she loves you. She wants to make sure you’re all right.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that so I didn’t say anything, making my way through the crowd of kids to help Isla instead.

  Did I know that Callie loved me? Maybe. But Callie loved everybody. And despite what everyone thought about Savannah at school—mainly that she was a diva with an attitude—any one of us in the troupe could tell you that underneath that mean girl vibe was the heart of a mother hen. A fretting, overprotective mother hen.

  But even so, I’d never opened up to either of them about my personal life, least of all my health issues, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to now.

  “I’m guessing Savannah already grilled you on those red eyes,” Isla said when I reached her side.

  “She did, and I’m fine,” I said as I wrangled the Everson kids into submission, reminding them calmly of the fact that the cupcakes the hostess had promised to deliver were contingent on good behavior.

  They quieted and ran away as Isla shook her head. “How do you guys make it look so easy?”

  I hiked up one of the puffy sleeves of the Rapunzel costume. “Kids aren’t that difficult.”

  It was my own peers I found confusing. But kids? They weren’t complicated. “You just have to figure out how to talk to them,” I said. “They want to be understood. They want respect and to feel included.” I shrugged. “And they also just want to have fun.”

  Isla’s lips quirked up in a mischievous smile. “Sounds like me. Does that mean I’m childish?”

  I gave her a small smile. “Your words, not mine.”

  Her head fell back with a laugh just as Flynn walked into the basement where we’d been exiled. I caught the way his eyes lit up at the sight of his girlfriend laughing, and my heart might have melted just a little.

  I wasn’t a romantic by nature, but these two were starting to make me think I could be converted.

  “How’s it going down here?” he asked as he wrapped his arms around Isla from behind, kissing her neck.

  She gave a sigh worthy of an Academy Award for all the martyrdom it managed to convey. “We’re surviving.”

  Flynn laughed as he met my gaze for my answer.

  “Fine,” I said. “It’s a tame night.”

  “This is tame?” Isla wailed. “Ugh, I don’t know how you guys deal with this every weekend.”

  Flynn and I both laughed. For all her dramatics, we were well aware that it was all for show. She wasn’t nearly as shallow as she’d have you believe.

  I heard a fight brewing between the escape-artist twins and hitched up the skirts of
my too-long gown to break it up. But before I turned away, I caught it. One of those couple moments that are just too weird. It was a silent conversation taking place between Isla and Flynn and judging by the head tilts and miming going on, it was about me.

  I started to back away, but I wasn’t fast enough. Flynn caught me. “Willow, wait up.”

  Isla gave him a nod and then murmured something about how she could handle a couple of devil twins if it killed her. She moved faster than I knew anyone could while dressed as a mermaid. But apparently this Ariel was determined to give Flynn and me a moment alone.

  I knew before he spoke what this would be about, but the look of concern in my roomie’s eyes still caught me off guard.

  “I’m worried about you, Willow,” he said. “We all are.”

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  “Are you?” His brows drew together as he eyed me. “You’ve been acting off these past couple weeks, and then you disappeared today after school, and were late for work, and when you showed—”

  “I told you, I had an errand,” I said.

  “Uh huh.” He didn’t sound mean or even suspicious. Just...disappointed. And that sucked. Guilt nagged at me because he looked truly bummed out that I wasn’t spilling all my secrets to him.

  But the weirder part was—I kind of wanted to tell him the truth. No, not kind of. I really wanted to. But I didn’t know how. I wasn’t one to talk about stuff. Not personal stuff, at least. Definitely not emotions. And even if I were, I wouldn’t know how to explain the shift going on inside of me today. Or maybe it had started weeks ago, and today was just the last straw.

  I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure how to explain it to myself, so how could I make him understand? Whatever this was that had me feeling like I’d lost my footing, it wasn’t something I could talk about.

  I was losing my mind. Obviously. That was the only explanation. One second I wanted to throw my head back and laugh, and the next I wanted to weep. One minute I was here working with the Princess Troupe like I did just about every weekend, and the next my mind was replaying that moment in Roman’s arms, when I’d cried on his shoulder.

  I definitely couldn’t explain with words the way I’d felt then. The emotions that had been threatening to surface for weeks, months—maybe years—they hadn’t just risen to the surface, they’d swallowed me whole. Tidal waves crashing, gates collapsing, storms raging. None of these metaphors accurately captured the onslaught of emotions that had come surging to the forefront.

  I’d been helpless in the face of all those raging emotions, and Roman had just...let it happen.

  He’d been so freakin’ nice about it. Out of pity, probably, but even so. He’d been kind.

  I’d meant it when I’d said I owed him.

  Flynn interrupted my thoughts with a sigh. “Willow, we all know you were crying earlier tonight, and I understand if it’s none of our business. But you have to know, if there’s something wrong, we’re here for you. You do know that, right?”

  He looked so sincere.

  Probably because he was sincere.

  My heart gave a violent twist that made my breath catch and tears sting the back of my eyes all over again. I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell Callie, Savannah, and Isla too. But where to begin? And how?

  I found myself standing there in silence for so long that Flynn gave up. “Okay, well, that’s all I wanted to say.”

  He started to turn, but I stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you.” I swallowed, my voice sounded tight and awkward. “I appreciate it.”

  He flashed a small smile. “We care about you, Willow. I know you’re a private person. I get that you aren’t used to having people…” He hesitated for a beat too long. Long enough for me to fill the gap.

  You are used to having people care.

  “You aren’t used to having people be involved,” he finished. “But I’m always around.” He grinned. “Literally, I am in the next room every night.”

  I laughed. “I know. I get it.”

  His gaze moved over my face again, and I knew without looking that he was noting the swollen, red-rimmed eyes. “Are you sure I shouldn’t be worried?”

  “There’s nothing to be concerned about,” I said.

  He nodded. “Well, if you want some space tonight, we don’t have to host the afterparty,” he said. “I know it’s become a tradition, but—”

  “No!” I shocked us both with my loud interruption. I cleared my throat. “I don’t want to cancel. I—I like having them over.”

  And that was an understatement. Our little afterwork parties might not have been exciting or the kind of parties a guy like Roman enjoyed, but for me, they were what I looked forward to most each and every week.

  They filled my house with warmth and laughter. They made me feel like I had a real circle of friends, despite the fact that we all went our own way at school. Their gathering at my place made my home feel like...well, a home. And their presence there made me feel like I had a family.

  Wow. How pathetic was that?

  I found myself staring wide-eyed at Flynn as a wave of sadness washed over me, unexpected and very much unwanted. I swallowed, bracing myself against another onslaught of feelings.

  What on earth was happening to me? My therapist would know. Maybe I should book an emergency appointment.

  “You sure you’re up for a party?” Flynn asked, doubt clear in his eyes.

  I gave him a wry smile as I thought back to the last after-work party everyone had come to. Everyone including Roman and the other guys from Callie’s band. It had been interesting.

  Maybe a disaster since it ended with Callie puking beer and me shouting at Roman. But one thing had been clear… “It’s not like it’s a real party, now is it?”

  I had rules for these parties, and everyone knew it. The volume was kept down, the guest list was limited to our work crew, and no one drank alcohol or even stayed up too late.

  “So maybe we’re not a bunch of party animals.” Flynn’s laugh was self-deprecating. “What does it matter? We all enjoy ourselves, right?”

  I nodded. We did. But for the first time in my life, I found myself wondering what would happen if I didn’t follow my own rules for these parties. What would happen if I invited other people, or let them bring guests, or allowed booze and games and...music?

  I was still staring at Flynn, but it was Roman’s face I saw. An image of him filled my mind’s eye. I’d never even seen him play live, but I could picture it clearly.

  He’d be totally at ease in front of a crowd just like he was totally at ease anywhere.

  What if I invite Roman?

  The thought had me holding my breath. Something stirred in my belly, and I couldn’t tell if this was excitement or anxiety or a mix of both.

  Flynn frowned. “Willow, are you—”

  “Do you have Roman’s number?” The words came tumbling out. Partly because I really didn’t want to hear anyone ask me if I was okay one more time tonight. And also because I was afraid if I didn’t ask now I’d lose my nerve.

  Or I’d come to my senses.

  One or the other.

  “Um, what?” Flynn stared at me like I’d just sprouted horns. “Roman?”

  I didn’t repeat myself. He’d heard me. He was just surprised, that was all. Sure enough, a second later, he pulled his phone out. “I just sent you his contact info.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But, Willow—”

  “I should go,” I said, already backing away. “But I’ll see you at home later?”

  He nodded. “Do you need a ride?”

  “Yes, please.” I gave him another small smile that I hoped would be reassuring. But as I walked away, my stomach did a somersault as I clutched my phone in my hands.

  Was I really going to do this?

  Go home. Have your traditional after-work get-together like always and go to bed. That was what my brain was saying.

  My fingers seemed to have a mind
of their own.

  Me: Hey, Roman. It’s Willow.

  No response. But he was working so that was to be expected.

  Me: Flynn gave me your number.

  Me: I just wanted to say...

  I paused while typing. What? What did I want to say? There was that rush of excitement and anxiety again. Like standing on the edge of a cliff. Like facing a wave at sea and not knowing if it’s going to carry you away or drag you under.

  My mouth went dry as I stood there debating what I wanted to say. Thank you didn’t seem good enough. I’m sorry for losing control around you?

  That was too weird.

  My breathing was coming fast and hard as I stared at the screen, ignoring the kids rushing around me. But it was the kids who ended up forcing my hand. The twins were at it again, and a quick glance showed that Isla had her hands full helping to distribute cupcakes, and Savannah was dealing with a code-red temper tantrum. Flynn had gone back to his catering station and Mrs. Messner wasn’t here, so they needed me to step in.

  I debated not sending the text, but at the last second, I ignored the logical voice in my head and typed the only words I knew I wanted to say.

  Me: I just wanted to say thank you again. And please come to the after-work party at my house tonight.

  I hit send before I could overthink it.

  Or think it through at all, for that matter.

  My heart was pounding in my ribcage when I turned to deal with the twins. My head was racing even as I spoke calmly to the kids. I should add more. I should have said less. I pulled my phone out just as my phone buzzed with a text.

  Roman: I’ll be there.

  A smile tugged at my lips. A real one. The kind of smile that made my cheeks feel weird because the muscles weren’t used to it. I glanced around as if someone might see and comment on it. But they didn’t. The only people who seemed to notice were the twins, and they smiled up at me in response. That made my smile grow.

  They were cute kids, even if they were slightly evil.

  With the twins under control, I took my phone back out. He hadn’t texted again, but that one text seemed endlessly fascinating to me for no reason I could ever explain.