I've got to be in her presence again today, andnothing'sgoing to stop me.
CHAPTERFOUR
Cindy
This day can’t end fast enough.More than once, I catch my customers giving me a dubious look, and I have to school my face into a smile instead of the frown it wants to keep settling into.
Not only did I dream of Jesse Hamilton and his big muscles and dark hair and green eyes all night, but then I woke up to a text from the guy.
Damn technology and the lack of privacy it gives us. I'm not on social media because I like to keep all of my shit private, and yet this infuriatingly arrogant, cocky basketball player who won't take no for an answer is able to type my name into a simple online people search and get my cell phone number? How the fuck is something like that legal?
I hate myself for how many times I check my phone expecting another text from him, but I never see one. And while that fills me with a rush of relief that maybe he's gotten the picture and he's going to drop it, why does it also cause my stomach to drop?
I don't actually want Jesse to keep pursuing me because it would end disastrously and make me look like a bitch when I keep shooting him down.
Because there's no way in hell I'm actually going to go on a date with anyone, much less someone as famous and in the spotlight as him. I don’t need anyone, especially not some guy like him who has so many women throwing themselves at him. He'd definitely get bored and leave me at some point.
If I'm not enough for my own father to stick around, why would I be enough for a famous basketball player who has countless prospects?
I can hear my brother's voice in my head right now, berating me for that type of thinking, but I can't help it. That's just how I feel.
No, it's better to not get attached to anyone because then you don't have to worry about them abandoning you. I have everything I need. I have a great job that I usually enjoy—that I would be enjoying today were it not for one infuriating basketball player who's invaded my thoughts.
I also have my brother, as overbearingly well-meaning and protective as he can be. What more could a girl need?
This girl right here doesn't need anything else.
I try not to sigh when I look at the clock and see that it's not even noon yet. Usually, my work keeps me so busy that I'm surprised when lunchtime rolls around. I'm usually never counting the minutes till I get a break, but today I am. I feel like I need time to recompose myself and push Jesse out of my mind.
I check my appointment book after I finish the last cut and almost sigh in relief when I see my next client is a male one.
My female clients are fussier and usually want more intricate cuts, but Ralph isn't fussy at all, and his cut is simple to do. Once I get his done, then it'll be time for lunch.
I dust off the chair and get my station cleaned up for him before I walk out into the front and call out his name.
I frown whenever suddenly a figure I would know anywhere stands up from a chair in the waiting room.
Jesse fucking Hamilton. What the hell is he doing here?
He comes striding over to me, and I cross my arms over my chest and give him a cool glance as my heart skyrockets in my chest. “I'm sorry. Since when is your name Ralph?”
I cock my head at him and say in my politest “fuck you” voice.
Jesse just grins infuriatingly down at me before he smirks. “Ralph had to take a rain check.”
The steel note I hear in Jesse's voice has me narrowing my eyes at him suspiciously. “You better not be running off all my clients,” I warn him.
“He graciously offered to let me take his spot,” Jesse says noncommittally. I’m not stupid, though. I know there’s more to the story than that.
Jesse splays his hands open, and I inwardly fume, knowing that I can't turn him away without really pissing my boss off.
I motion for Jesse to follow me and turn without saying another word to him. My heart is pitter-pattering away in my chest, and I hate how flushed I'm getting all over, knowing the close proximity I'm going to be with him.
I'm going to have my hands on him. He's going to be staring up at me the whole time.
How am I going to survive this?
Jesse sits down in the chair with a shit-eating grin on his face, his eyes predictively never leaving me. He looks like the cat that got the canary.