Coming Jan. 6th
A sneak peak at Chapter 1
Impatiently, Val flipped his powder-blue locks over his
shoulder, tapping the little whisk broom against the counter where his supplies
were arranged neatly. "Derek, you left me standing around at Paul's for an
hour, a place I totally hate by the way, without even a phone call to say you
weren't coming, and then I walk past you playing ball in the park with your
friends on the way back here. I'm not overreacting!"
He ran a swift eye over his supplies. Scissors, combs, spray bottle with water,
gel, mousse, everything seemed in order. While he prepared his workstation, he
listened with half an ear to the deep voice on the other end of the phone,
trying to explain or rationalize or whatever, but he wasn't into hearing what
Derek had to say. The guy was an immature jerk who put his own wants ahead of
everything, even if it meant leaving Val standing in a group of young college
kids he barely knew, in a bar he usually avoided like the plague. He'd gone to
the party in the first place for Derek. Being stood up while doing something so
selfless just pissed him off. Just once in a relationship, Val wanted to find a
guy who put him first, who loved him more than sports, friends, and all the
other temptations the wicked world offered. "Just forget it, Derek. You
don't get it. It's not just last night; it's the whole last few months."
More rumbling and babbling in his ear. He ran a dust cloth
over the client's chair and then adjusted its height. Prepping his station at
the salon was second nature and required little of his attention. Kind of like
listening to Derek. Why the fuck do I
listen to this shit? Derek had all the emotional understanding of a two-ton
truck. Cute as hell, but clueless about what would melt Val's heart. In fact,
Derek might accurately be called a little dense altogether. A little
consideration, a romantic gesture or two, would go a long way. Hell, an apology
instead of an excuse would probably have gotten him a second chance even this
morning. Eh. Who are you kidding? Derek is
a symptom, not the illness itself. "Fuck off, Derek. It's over. Do me
a favor and lose my number, okay?"
Flipping the phone shut, he shoved it into the pocket of his
smock and busied himself cleaning up his workspace. A quick spray of glass
cleaner to the mirror, a swipe or two with a rag and he was done. Done with
Derek, done with men, done with romance and love and sex, and fuck it all. He
could be celibate. Masturbation didn't count as sex, did it? He'd need
something if he wasn't getting any.
"Hey, Smurfette, your professor is here."
It happened. Just like that. Ted's sarcastic statement,
delivered in his superior nasal twang, made Val's vow of celibacy probably the
shortest in history. He put down the small whisk broom he'd been using to clean
up his already spotless workstation and dusted his hands off on his powder-blue
smock. The smock he had chosen deliberately to match his hair this morning because
it highlighted his eyes and skin tone, even though he knew wearing it would
invite Ted to make Smurf comparisons,. He'd only just made the solemn promise
to himself to take a break from men and get his head screwed on straight before
venturing back into the dating arena. He'd been celibate for all of five
minutes maybe, if you didn't count the previous six days when he could have had
sex if he wanted to with Derek, but he hadn't because he didn't. Want to, that
is.
He'd almost forgotten about his regular ten fifteen
appointment with Adrian Grey. Val shook his head. He knew better than that. That
would be a lie and Valentine Michaels knew better than to lie. He did it so
very badly. He could never completely forget about Adrian. They'd been friends for nearly ten
years, since they were roommates in the dorm freshman year at NCU. Heck, for a
few brief days, they'd been something more than friends, even. Though he didn't
usually primp like this for his exes.
Adrian Grey, though hot as hell, exemplified everything Val
was not looking for in a man. Where Val liked big, muscular men who towered
over him, Adrian was only an inch or so taller than he was. Val preferred
blonds, but Adrian
wore his straight black hair cut long enough to curl under his jawline in front
and curved higher in back to meet the university library's requirement that all
male employees wear their hair above the collar. The wire-rim glasses he wore
on a fine rope around his neck gave him a distracted air of intelligence and
emphasized the almost delicate aspect of his refined features. His jawline was
smooth and silky, whereas Val preferred the sexy appeal of rough, two-day
stubble.
Everything about Adrian
said successful, young professional. Adrian
was solid, dependable, and reliable. All those -able words that no one had ever applied to Val. There was
intelligence in those blue eyes, and humor in the tilt of that rosy mouth, and
sexy didn't begin to describe his lean, firmly muscled body.
"He's a librarian, you ass," he snapped at Ted. "And
he's not my type." Type or not, Val found himself checking out his hair in
the mirror, adjusting the powdery blue strands as he bit then licked his lips. Ah,
well, he was a beautician, wasn't he? He had to look good, even for the clients
who didn't want something creative in their personal look. Surreptitiously he
breathed on his hand, checking his breath, and swiped his lips with a tube of
clear gloss he pulled from the pocket of his smock. And, he reasoned triumphantly,
he could appreciate beauty where he saw it for the exact same reason! And Adrian was beautiful in
his geeky way.
He looked up and met Adrian's
eyes in the mirror as the other man strode to the reception desk to receive his
share of the crap that Ted dished out without prejudice. Mmm. That blue oxford really brings out the sparkle in Adrian's eyes, doesn't it?
"Come on back, I'm all ready for you." You have no idea how ready, he snickered
inside as he spun the chair and waved Adrian
to sit.
He always chatted away while trimming Adrian. It wasn't like he needed to
concentrate in order to trim Adrian's
hair into the same style he'd been wearing for the past six years. He rolled
his eyes. Another thing about Adrian that was so
not his type: Adrian
resisted change. He even used the same fucking cell phone he'd had in college. Val
used to try to convince Adrian to try a new cut
once in a while, but Adrian
liked what he liked and refused all offers to dye, cut or curl his hair into
something other than the style he already wore. The chat kept him distracted
from the heat of Adrian's
body and the enticing scent of his cologne. It prevented his imagination from
running away with him. In the past, the conversation had served as a reminder
to himself that Adrian
was off-limits.
Gesturing slightly with his scissors and comb, he asked,
already knowing what the answer would be, "So, are you going to let me cut
this in a different style for you today?"
As expected, Adrian
simply shook his head and seated himself in the waiting chair.
"So," Adrian
said, when Val found himself tongue-tied for the first time in their long
history of Friday morning haircuts, "what's new in your life? Or should I
say, who's new in your life? Ted just told me you broke up with Derek."
Val flushed. Was that really the impression he'd given of
himself? He came off as the kind of guy who couldn't last a week without a
lover?
A bit hurt, he snapped, "What? Like I always have to
have a boyfriend? There's no one right now. After that dumb shit Derek, I'm taking
a break from men for a while."
Adrian
jerked in the chair, and Val cursed. "Be still. You could end up with a
new hairstyle whether you want one or not, jumping like that!"
"Sorry. Just what exactly do you mean by taking a break
from men?" The other man seemed bewildered for some reason.
"I mean," he declared dramatically, tossing his
head, "I've taken a vow of celibacy. I'm swearing off men, drama, and
love."
Adrian
laughed softly. "Oh. That'll last. The next pretty boy with bulging
muscles who strolls through that door for a haircut, or offers to buy you a
drink at the bar, and you'll be back in the game, heartbreak forgotten."
Val gasped. "Oh, that was uncalled for! I'm not exactly
heartbroken, just reevaluating where I stand on some issues. I'm tired of
leading such a messy life. I need to figure myself out before I get involved
with anyone else."
"I'm sorry." Adrian
apologized. "I shouldn't tease you. It's just that I've known you since we
were freshmen at the university, and ever since then, for ten years, you've
always had a boyfriend—usually some muscle-bound, superhero jock-type."
Sighing, Val stilled his hands and met Adrian's eyes in the mirror. There was
sympathy in the blue depths, but more, there lurked something indecipherable
that he hadn't seen before. "It's not just Derek, Adrian." He confessed in a low voice. "It's
all of it. Everything. The shop bores me. The bars and clubs are filled with
younger and younger people every time I go, and I'm like a babysitter, or God
forbid, my mother. Have you heard that crap they call music now?" He shook
his head and went back to trimming fractions of hair from silky black locks and
brushing strays from the blue oxford collar. Finished, he put aside the tools
of his trade.
Adrian
rose from his chair and scribbled something on a card he pulled from his shirt
pocket. "Here's my cell number. Call me anytime if you need someone to
listen or want to get together."
Val stared as the other man turned and left the salon,
brushing stray hairs from his shirt as he did so. Down, boy. He glared at his cock where it arched up beneath the
buttons of his 501s. He's not your type,
remember? No amount of lecturing could convince his dick though. Maybe type
was one of the things he'd need to reevaluate. He tossed the number in the
trash, almost hoping Adrian
would see him do it. Like he needed it. He'd had that phone number memorized
for ten years. Not that he used it. Who needed a phone call when Adrian arrived every
Friday, regular as clockwork? Slowly he wandered to the front of the shop, past
Ted in his black, horn-rimmed glasses and bleach-splattered clothing, and on out
the door, starting as he realized he was following Adrian.
