Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Noah hooted merrily, slapping his hand on his knee. He sobered with an amused sigh and flashed another radiant grin my way.
“You’re funny. I would have become a doctor if they’d offered merman anatomy classes in my school. Science’s loss. But seriously, you know more than I do—anatomically speaking—so tell me how I can make my next design better. I based my drawing on art I found on a mermaid fanfic site. A lot of it was straight-up porn.”
I widened my eyes. “Merman porn? I didn’t know such a thing existed.”
“Yeah, and it’s sexy as fuck too. Excuse my French.”
“I’ll take your word on that.”
“Google it. You’ll find it enlightening, Professor.” He winked, then let out a theatrical sigh. “Sadly, the illustrations that weren’t sexy were just plain boring, so I used a porny one for inspiration and covered his bits. But maybe the scales are a little too low.”
“Or perhaps his penis is…too large?”
Noah smiled impishly as he stood. “I respectfully disagree. He’s supposed to be sexy and provocative. A regular ol’ merman won’t sell many shirts.”
“You sell those shirts?”
“Yep.” He resumed hair duty, buzzing and snipping as he spoke. “I opened an online store a year ago hawking skimpy tees for club boys. It’s just a side hustle. No big deal, but my audience expects sexy and I gotta deliver.”
I nodded automatically, though once again, I wasn’t quite sure how to respond. “That makes sense.”
“Mmhmm. And the cool part is that Jase doesn’t mind if I wear them to work. So it’s like we were saying earlier, this is my uniform…with a little something extra. I play the game, but I do it my way. The same could apply to your situation with your sister. Add your own signature to your brother-of-the-bride wedding ensemble,” he suggested, gesturing for me to bend my head.
I stared at the black-and-white checked floor as I mulled over his advice.
“I don’t have a signature,” I admitted when he signaled for me to straighten my chin.
Noah stopped working and struck a pose with his arms crossed and his hips tilted to one side. “What about your glasses?”
I shook my head. “They’re a practical necessity, not a fashion statement.”
“But they could be. New frames, a fun color or stylish shape might be fun. Or is the tape your signature?” His teasing smile was warm and kind, no trace of judgment.
“I need to get these fixed. It’s a matter of making time. I’m not good with nebulous chores I can easily cancel or postpone. Something more interesting always comes along.”
“Like what?” He brushed the hair from my shoulder and reached for his scissors again.
I squinted. “Uh…are you asking my interests?”
Noah’s lips quirked. “I am. What do you like to do in your spare time, Professor?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Sure, I do,” he pressed. “Do you read, collect stamps, play football…”
“No to stamps and sports, but I do read a lot.”
“Oh, yeah? Me too. I’m going through a fierce vampire stage at the moment. I turn into absolute mush for smoldering undead hunks. Writers amaze me. I can’t imagine building an entire world in my head and magically transferring it to paper…or a laptop. It’s sorcery. You must read a lot. What are your favorite books, who are your favorite authors?”
I rattled off a few titles, like Dune, The Time Machine, and authors like H.G. Wells and Mary Shelley. Before I had a chance to reciprocate, he had another handful of questions about other genres I enjoyed and movies I liked. And then he asked why. Why that movie? Why that book?
Somewhere between blowing my hair dry and combing through the finished product, I realized I’d spent more time talking about myself to a stranger wearing a naughty merman shirt than I had with anyone in a long time.
I couldn’t decide if I felt like I’d had a productive session with a remarkably perceptive therapist or had been on a date with a great guy who couldn’t get enough of…me.
Whoa. Obviously, that was wishful thinking on my part.
However, it hadn’t escaped my notice that my haircut had taken longer than any other haircut I’d ever received in my life. He made me feel as if he’d taken his time because he was engrossed in our conversation and genuinely interested in me.
It was more likely that he was trying to fill the gap between appointments, though. Men like Noah didn’t go for guys like me.
Not that I’d ever consider asking him out anyway. I wouldn’t. Gosh…he might have a boyfriend. Or a husband. He wasn’t wearing a ring, but—
Whatever. Not my business, I mused as he untied the smock and handed over a smaller mirror to inspect the back of my head.
“It looks good,” I said shyly…and very dorkishly.
Noah stood behind me, squeezing my shoulders. “Good? I think not. You look exceedingly handsome.”