Perfectly You (The Perfect Series Book 2)

by Robin Daniels

  “Yes, it would be. Kim, this is Andy Walker, Andy, my cousin Kim.” I introduced them.

  Kim leaned in and gave Andy a big hug. He returned it awkwardly with one arm, much the way he did when I hugged him.

  “Sorry,” Kim said. “I’m a hugger. You’ll get used to it. So, can I see what I have to play with?” Andy pulled off his hat and let his ragged hair fall into his face.

  “It seems I have my work cut out for me. I don’t want to be rude, but where on earth do you get your hair cut?” Kim asked, obviously appalled.

  “His mom usually does it.” I beat him to the punch.

  “Oh, I see.” Kim’s tone was understanding, almost sympathetic. “Have you ever gotten your hair cut professionally before?” she asked.

  “Can’t say that I have. Is that a bad thing? I always thought my mom did a decent job. I just haven’t had it cut in a while,” Andy said, defending his mother. It was sweet.

  “Not a bad thing,” Kim replied. “Just different. You’re in for a treat, my friend. People say I have magic fingers.” She wiggled them, and her eyes got big. Andy seemed confused by what magic fingers meant, so Kim quickly elaborated. “You’ll see when I do the shampoo. I give a mean scalp massage.” Andy wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so I saved him. “Kim, can he get something really short on the sides, but longer on the top? Stylishly messy, kind of boy band meets GQ?”

  She studied Andy’s face. “Yep, I think that’ll look good. A little heavier on the GQ side, though. Does that sound ok?”

  “Sounds good to me,” I agreed.

  “Do I get any say here?” Andy asked.

  “Nope,” Kim and I answered at the same time, then laughed.

  “Trust her, Andy. And try to enjoy yourself. The haircut will take a while. I’m going across the parking lot to get a soda. You want anything?”

  “Sure, I’ll take a Coke,” he said.

  “Cool. I’ll be back in a little bit.” I waved good-bye as Kim ushered Andy back to the washing sink. I hoped he could relax, or getting him to agree to phase two was going to be difficult. I headed across the parking lot and grabbed a Coke and a Fresca, then walked back to the salon, where I sat down with my feet on a coffee table and grabbed a magazine. Might as well brush up on my pop culture happenings and gossip.

  Thirty-five minutes later I wandered back to Kim’s chair, but neither she nor Andy were anywhere to be found. I was about to ask someone where they’d gone when I heard a yelp from the back room. “Ouch! That hurts!” Somewhere a male was writhing in pain. Oops. Maybe I should have warned him about that.

  A couple minutes later Kim emerged from the waxing room, a grumpy Andy in tow. “That was a dirty trick, Ivy. Dirty trick,” he reprimanded. “You knew I’d be all relaxed from having my hair played with and willing to go along with anything.”

  I tried to hide my laughter, but the look on his face made it hard. “Ok, so maybe I should have warned you that was coming, but now it’s all done and your eyebrows look magnificent.” Kim hadn’t changed the shape really. She’d just thinned them out on the bottom and in the middle, still very masculine. It made a huge difference. “And your hair looks awesome, too. Very sophisticated. What do you think?”

  Andy turned to face the mirror, running his finger along the red spot between his eyebrows. “I actually like the hair better than I thought I would,” he admitted. “And the brows look better, too. I only wish there was a way to fix them that didn’t amount to torture.”

  “Beauty is pain, my friend, beauty is pain.” I tsked. “But that’s why we sandwich the waxing between two pleasurable experiences.” I waited for him to realize what I was saying. It only took him a second.

  “Sandwiched?” He questioned in fear. “You mean there’s more?”

  “Yes, but this next part is good. So good, in fact, that I’m going to join you for it.” Now Andy was really confused. I handed him his soda, which he took gratefully, downing a big swig.

  “What in the world could we possibly do together? My hair is done, and I’m not letting that devil woman wax anything else.” Andy looked terrified, but turned to Kim. “No offense.”

  “None taken.” She laughed. “I’ve been called worse by clients after leaving that room. Much worse.”

  Andy looked at me, waiting for an answer, so I decided to put his mind at ease. “We’re getting mani/pedis, of course. I hope Jake isn’t disappointed that your first time won’t be with him.” I smiled at the thought of the two boys sitting in a spa together.

  “I don’t have to get nail polish or anything, right?”

  “Of course not, dork. Guys usually get their nails buffed, not polished. But that’s the least important part of the mani/pedi. They’ll clean up your cuticles and sand down your calluses. Then, of course, there’s the massage.”

  Andy perked up at the mention of a massage. “You mean I get my feet rubbed?”

  “Yes. And your legs and your arms and your hands. Why do you think Jake loves getting a pedicure? I’m sure it’s not because his nails are being buffed. And, to top it all off, we get to sit in a giant massage chair while it happens.” Andy was clearly softening to the idea of the spa treatments, very rapidly. “I bet they’ll even turn on ESPN for you if you ask nicely.”

  His eyes lit up. “Sold!” he exclaimed as he turned to the cute girl waiting to take us back to our massage chairs. “Lead the way.” He smiled at her, and I shook my head.

  An hour and a half later we left the salon, totally relaxed. We’d been scrubbed and buffed and massaged into a trance. We’d chatted and joked, and we even found a golf tournament to watch. It was fun seeing Andy let loose. He taught me some things about golf while we watched TV, and we talked about music and art. He told me a little about his family. His parents were still happily married, and he had a younger sister named Celeste, who was in eighth grade. I told him about my parents and my older brother Nathan, who’d gotten married last year. He and his wife Candice were expecting their first baby in about four months. I told him how excited I was to be an aunt, and he confessed to liking babies.

  Andy was a hidden gem. I should be recording these conversations. He liked babies? I mean, what guy willingly admits that? The info alone would get him plenty of dates, if he wanted them. This made me wonder what his dating life was like. For all I knew, he dated all the time. I suspected that wasn’t the case, but I wasn’t about to assume. I always got myself into trouble when I did that.

  “So, are you sick of me yet?” I asked as we got in the car.

  “Why, did you have more plans?”

  “Not necessarily.” I looked at his clothes. “But I was wondering if we could look in your closet to see if we needed to plan a shopping trip this weekend.”

  “What’s wrong with my clothes?” He laughed, looking down at his outfit.

  “Nothing really…” I hesitated. He wore a lot of khaki cargo pants and button-down shirts. “It’s just that your standard wardrobe doesn’t really match your new look.” I tried to be delicate, but I guess I’d failed.

  “Not digging the cargo pants, huh?” He smiled. I wrinkled my nose and shook my head no. But I quickly made sure he didn’t think I was insulting him. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re cute, so you could probably wear a trash bag to school and you’d still look fine. But I want you to show up at school tomorrow and have all the girls whispering about who the foxy new guy is.”

  “Foxy new guy?”

  “Yes. We need to wrap you in mystery, then call attention to you.”

  “Andrew Walker, wrapped in mystery. Sounds like a cheesy romance novel.” He snickered, and I smacked him on the arm.

  “Fine.” I laughed. “I’ll come up with a different tagline. In the meantime, where am I taking you? To your house, I presume?”

  “Yep. I live over in Lake View Estates.”

  Hmmm. I hadn’t expected that. Lake View is where all the rich people lived. It’s the kind of community that wasn’t even gated because all the houses wer
e gated individually. I guess I could have concluded that Andy’s family had money, since he said his parents were friends with Rob’s and Jake’s. Andy is so laid back that he really doesn’t give off the rich, spoiled kid vibe.

  There I went again, being judgmental. Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean you have to be stuck up. Jake’s not stuck up, after all. He doesn’t seem spoiled, either. But his sister sure was, and Rob was the worst. The way Jake dressed and looked in general, you could tell he had money. But Andy didn’t look or behave anything like Jake. I know it’s wrong to assume someone is shallow, but I was still a little surprised that Jake was so close with Andy.

  I shouldn’t have been hung up on the whole money issue. It’s not like my parents were poor. They were extremely middle class. They owned a successful small business, and we had a nice home full of nice things. I was mad at myself for being bothered by it at all. The last thing I wanted was for my preconceived thoughts about people with money to cause a rift in my new friendship. Especially since a lot of those preconceptions were from my interactions with Rob. If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up pulling an Ivy and say something offensive unintentionally.

  Andy guided me through the streets of Lake View Estates until we came to a stop in front of a beautiful home. It was three stories of stone, very French country, but on a massive scale. I wouldn’t say it was a mansion, but the house had to be at least five or six thousand square feet, and it had a long, paved stone driveway with a four-car garage at the end. The lawn was immaculately manicured, and the whole estate stood behind an ornate iron fence and gate.

  “Pull up to the keypad,” Andy instructed, and I did as I was told.

  “Do you want me to enter the code, or do you want to get out and do it?” I asked, unsure if he’d want me to have full access to his house.

  “That depends,” he answered. “Are you going to sneak in during the night and steal stuff or kidnap me if I give you the code?”

  “I’m not sure that I’m smart enough to mastermind something like that,” I replied. “But I might sell the gate code to cute girls at a hundred bucks a pop.”

  Andy snickered. “I doubt anyone would pay that much for my gate code, so I think we’ll be safe. Go ahead and put it in yourself. 1570#,” he said. I entered the code, and the gate slowly swung open. “You can park your car at the end of the driveway, next to mine.”

  I looked toward the garage, where I saw a navy-blue Jeep Wrangler sitting. It was even topless, just like mine. “Is that your car?” I laughed.

  “Sure is.” His smile was extra wide.

  “You mean to tell me that we have nearly identical cars?” I was dumbfounded. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

  “I did,” he insisted. “I told you that you had excellent taste in cars.” Andy was enjoying the situation too much. He got out of my car and walked over to his Jeep, patting the hood as I’d done earlier with mine. “Ivy, this is Bertram, but I call him Bert for short. Bertram, this is my friend Ivy.”

  My mouth hung open as I glared at Andy and pointed an accusing finger at him. Then I stalked forward and stabbed that pointed finger right in his chest. “You made fun of me for naming my car Penelope, and you have a nearly identical car named Bertram? You’re such a hypocrite,” I screeched.

  Andy laughed and grabbed my finger, pulling it away from his chest, but he held on to it tightly. We were standing very close, and he had to take a step back so he wouldn’t be breathing in my face. Even though he stepped back, he didn’t drop my hand.

  “No,” he corrected, face mischievous. “I told you that your car’s name was old-fashioned. I also said that there was nothing wrong with it. That’s because my car’s name is also a bit old-fashioned. Since I’m not a hypocrite, I’d never have made fun of Penny’s name.”

  I narrowed my eyes and tried to make an angry face, but I was assaulted by the scent of his minty gum and ended up staring at his lips instead. What the heck? Where was this coming from? I blamed my temporary lapse of brain function on the fact that Andy’s new makeover left him looking really good. Any girl would stare if put in my situation.

  Andy must have noticed me staring at his lips, because his face turned red and he dropped my hand. He smiled shyly, then turned toward his house and walked to the side door. “You coming?” he called over his shoulder.

  I nodded as I followed him, unsure where the sudden burst of teenage hormones was coming from. Hopefully, being alone with him, in his room, wouldn’t cause problems for me.

  I followed Andy through the door into a neatly organized mud room where he dropped his backpack. Then we moved into one of the most beautiful kitchens I’d ever seen. You’d think the space would be traditional, based on the exterior of the house, but it was sleek and modern. Tall espresso cabinets with long, cylindrical stainless handles lined the walls. Matching stainless appliances were stationed around the room and set into the beautiful gray and white marble countertops.

  A white subway tile backsplash lined the walls between the countertops and the upper cabinets everywhere but the wall that the stove was on. That wall had a backsplash that went from counter to ceiling and was made of glass penny tiles in turquoise, icy blue, white, and silver. The wall was phenomenal. A very large picture window was situated above the sink and overlooked a sparkling pool in the backyard.

  I gawked, then practically barked, “Crap, Andy. Can I move into your kitchen?”

  Laughter rang out from the center island, and I realized we weren’t alone. A woman stood in an apron, plopping cookies onto a baking sheet. It was obvious the minute I saw her that she was Andy’s mom. I recognized her from the portrait he’d been working on, and she was even more beautiful in person. She had a soft smile when she spoke. “I’m glad you like it. We remodeled a couple of years ago, and I had a hard time convincing my husband to let me put up a turquoise wall.”

  “Excellent choice. That wall makes the kitchen. It’s truly breathtaking,” I complimented, and she beamed with pride.

  “Andrew, are you going to introduce me to your friend?” Andy’s mom walked over to the sink and washed her hands.

  “Sorry. Mom, this is my friend Ivy. Ivy, this is my mom.”

  “Please, call me Sarah. It’s nice to finally meet you, Ivy. Andrew has said some very nice things about you.” Sarah smiled warmly again, then surprised me by wrapping me in a hug. “Mom, are you trying to embarrass me? Ivy’s going to think I’m a stalker or something.”

  Sarah quickly realized her mistake and backtracked. “Sorry, sweetheart.” She walked over and kissed him on the cheek before heading to the oven to pull out a batch of cookies. She put them on the top of the stove to cool, then turned back to me. “I guess I need to clarify that my son isn’t a stalker.” She winked at me conspiratorially. “He’s told me all about you convincing him to participate in the auction, which I think is fabulous, so you’re already on my favorites list.”

  “Well, I’m honored. I’m not even sure I’m on my own parents’ favorites list,” I joked.

  Andy’s mom studied me briefly before responding. “Oh, I seriously doubt that.” She put some cookies on a plate and handed them to her son. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the haircut and the eyebrows. Can I thank Ivy for the transformation?” Sarah looked to me for confirmation.

  “Guilty as charged.” I grinned. “I hope you like it.”

  “Ivy, I love it. I haven’t had a good look at this boy’s face in almost a year. I hope the new haircut means that he’ll be leaving that ratty old baseball cap at home for a while?”

  “That was my hope, too,” I answered, looking to Andy.

  “I’m in the room, you know? It’s not polite to talk about people in front of them.” Andy didn’t seem angry so much as annoyed with his mom fawning over him in front of me.

  “I know, sweetheart, but you look so handsome. Can’t a mother be proud of her beautiful baby boy?” Andy rolled his eyes and moved to leave the kitchen. “All right, all right.”
She laughed. “I’m done tormenting you. So, what are you two up to this afternoon?”

  “We came to pick an outfit for Andy to wear with his new look tomorrow.”

  “You mean you’re getting him to wear something besides cargo pants?” Sarah looked shocked, and I chuckled that she had the same aversion to the pants that I had. “He’s got a closet full of stylish clothes, but he won’t wear any of them. If you can get him to add some variety to his wardrobe, I’ll definitely let you move into my kitchen.”

  I laughed at Sarah. “Challenge accepted.”

  Before I could say anything else, Andy grabbed my hand with his empty one, cookies clutched in the other, and started dragging me out of the kitchen. He leveled his mom with an annoyed glare. “We’re going to my room.”

  “It was nice to meet you, Sarah,” I called over my shoulder as we left the kitchen.

  “It was nice to meet you, too, Ivy. Don’t be a stranger. And Andrew, bedroom door stays open, please.”

  “Oh my gosh, Mom,” Andy muttered under his breath. “What does she think we will be doing up there?” After we cleared the kitchen and made it through the foyer, Andy dropped my hand. I hadn’t realized he’d still been holding it until he let it go. The action made me oddly disappointed. Andy headed up the stairs, and I followed. It was a giant winding staircase with a dark wood and iron railing that led to a balcony overlooking the two-story foyer and massive front door. We walked past an open bedroom door. The room was like a purple and zebra print explosion and filled with posters of pop stars and young actors. Clothes were strewn about the room like the closet had thrown up this morning.

  I teased Andy as we walked by. “Wait.” I pointed through the open door. “Didn’t we go past your room?”

  “Ha-ha-ha,” he answered sarcastically. “Celeste’s room gives me a headache just looking in it. I can’t spend more than a minute or two in there without dropping into a seizure.”