Page 9 of Hold Me
“Hey,” Caleb says, his lips spreading into a wide smile when he sees me. I open my mouth to say something, but I can’t stop staring at him. He’s looking even more gorgeous than before. His hair is carefully combed, but a few strands are spiking up in just the right places, making him look both boyish and elegant. His black suit perfectly hugs his lean body without looking too tight.
“Hey. Um, come in. I’m still getting ready...” I open the door wide, feeling warmth coming into my cheeks and I don’t even know why.
“I can wait.” He tilts his head, stopping to look at me. My black cocktail dress suddenly seems see-through and I lick my dry lips.
I wave my hand. “It’s just my hair and makeup. It shouldn’t take long...” Except I have no clue what to do with my hair. I stop in front of the mirror in the hallway and sigh. As I raise my hair up, I realize I should have called Katherine to help me with this. I could never style my hair perfectly on my own because a stray strand would always stick out somewhere behind and all would be ruined. I look up at Caleb who’s watching me in silence. “Can you help me?”
He rubs his forehead. “Depends. What do you need?”
A grin tugs at my lips. “I need you to tie my hair up in a bun. Do you think you can do that?”
“I...”
“You can just try. I think it’ll turn out better than if I try to do it on my own.”
“Okay.” Amusement flashes through his eyes. “But don’t be mad at me if I ruin it.”
“I promise I won’t. Come with me.” I stride toward my room and wonder how weird it is to have him in my room, which is huge, with a big double bed, a lot of closets and shelves, and a dressing table. Every piece of furniture is either silver, black, or white.
“So what should I do?” he asks, his gaze traveling across the room, but his face is expressionless.
“I’ll brush my hair and then you can help me lift it up and make sure it doesn’t look like a bird nest.” I start for the dressing table, but Caleb’s hand on my arm stops me.
“No, go sit on the bed,” he says, heading for my dressing table, and my insides clench at the memory of what he did the last time he’d told me to do that. I settle myself on the edge of the bed and squeeze my shaky legs together, which only increases the heat pooling inside of me.
He picks up my brush and comes toward me. “You have beautiful hair,” he says.
“Thanks.” The bed shifts under his weight as he sits next to me, then gently places his hand on my shoulder.
“Turn your back to me.”
I move slightly and straighten my shoulders, bracing myself as Caleb’s fingers touch my hair. Whenever someone combs my hair, they usually pull a couple of hairs out since it tangles very easily. But as I hear him run the brush through my hair, I can’t feel anything because he’s gently holding the strands between his fingers. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
He’s quiet for a moment, and I don’t think he’ll answer. “Yes, for a friend,” he finally says. “She’s always too nervous to do it herself.” As he moves the brush to the top of my head, he slowly and carefully runs it through my hair.
“Why?” I ask. “Why is she nervous?”
Caleb’s grip on the brush falters and he nearly drops it. “Because of her... job,” he quickly says.
“Can I know what she does? Is she a model?” I don’t know if I’m asking questions that are too personal, but I’m still curious. If she were a model, then wouldn’t she have people doing her hair for her?
“No, she’s... a singer. She sometimes performs in bars and going on stage can be scary for her.”
Wow, it’s so sweet of him to do that for a friend. Or maybe she’s his lucky girlfriend.
He gets to his feet and puts the brush back on the dressing table.
“My hair accessories are in that drawer. There’s a silver band somewhere in there.” I point my finger at the left drawer of the dressing table. He rummages through it until he finds what I want and comes back toward me. I sit still as he busies himself with my hair.
“There. All done.” He pulls back and I get to my feet, going for the mirror. My hair is tied into a perfect loose bun, one strand falling freely on the left side of my face. “Do you like it?” he comes to stand behind me, and all I can see in the mirror are his dark eyes.
“Yes,” I say, breathless. He’s so close to me now that he could touch me, but he doesn’t.
“Good.” He crosses his arms, a pleased expression on his face.
I take a seat in the chair in front of the dressing table and pick up my mascara. “I can do the rest by myself. Thank you.”
He nods, a smile stretching his lips. I can feel his presence behind me like a wave of heat. When I finish applying my mascara and eye shadow, I reach for my pink lipstick, but then I see Caleb shaking his head in the mirror.