Tomorrow is a Saturday – of course I’m free.
‘I am,’ I say after a couple of seconds. I need to at least pretend that I’m thinking about whether or not I have plans rather than just knowing I don’t as default.
‘OK, well, meet me tomorrow and… we’ll see.’
‘We’ll see?’ I reply.
‘Are you one of those people who doesn't like surprises?’ he asks.
‘Well, there are two kinds of surprises, right?’ I start. ‘There’s: “Surprise, here’s a birthday cake you knew nothing about!” and then there’s: “Surprise, this is Dr Whatever, he’ll be performing your Brazilian butt lift today!”’
Millsy laughs.
‘A makeover is a lick of paint on the walls. It isn’t knocking a wall down here and bricking up a window there,’ he says.
‘Yeah, I just want to refresh my look. I’m more than happy with my body.’
‘So you should be,’ he tells me. ‘You look great. So, makeover tomorrow sound good?’
‘It does,’ I reply. ‘OK, sure, let’s do it.’
‘Great,’ he replies. ‘You don’t need to worry about it. I have a couple of friends with a pop-up studio, who do drop-ins. They do a lot of portfolio work. They do a lot of stuff for me – usually just in exchange for photos. I need some waxing anyway.’
They might want photos of Millsy – he’ll look great in their portfolios – but I doubt pictures of plain old me are any use to them.
‘Are you going to be my girly best friend?’ I ask playfully.
‘Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,’ he insists. ‘And, if meeting people to date in real life is what you want, I can steer you in the right direction there too. Acting aside, it’s maybe the thing I’m best at. Just do as I say, you can’t go wrong.’
I don’t know what it is about Millsy but I feel so good about myself right now. It’s nice, being around him. He’s obviously a really good-looking guy and he has this way of making you feel so important. He somehow makes you spend every second questioning why he’s even talking to you, but it’s not because of anything he’s doing.
I didn’t think it was possible to be this comfortable around a man I didn’t know well. Well, it’s a sign of the times, isn’t it? I’ve spent my entire teenage and adult life being told how to keep myself safe, given rape alarms – even Matcher has guidelines on how to stay safe when meeting people. And I’m not saying everyone on Matcher is dangerous but I’m not not saying that either. You never really know who people are. With Millsy, though, I just don’t feel any bad vibes, I don’t see any red flags – unless, of course, a man being normal and nice is a red flag, which, given my recent experiences, seems pretty unusual to me.
If Millsy has a female best friend and she’s getting married, then it makes perfect sense that he feels a bit pushed out. I know all about how unimportant you’re made to feel when someone close to you is getting married. It’s as if the entire world revolves around that one day, and everything is all about them. Perhaps he saw a bit of what he’s feeling in me and that’s why he’s taking me under his wing.
Whether he’s just bored, or a saint, or cares about me specifically for some reason, I’m not about to turn down a free makeover.
We sit and we chat and we order more drinks. We talk about makeovers and life choices and movies and everything in between – in fact, we chat so much, Millsy doesn’t even make a move to go and hang out with his friends until I decide it’s my bedtime. Millsy is a lot of fun to talk to – way more fun, and much sharper, than any of my Matcher dates. Perhaps meeting people in real life is the way to go and, with Millsy on my side, I might actually stand a chance.
6
Zander, Millsy’s hairdresser friend, looks as though he’s about to cry.
‘When was the last time you had a trim?’ he asks me. I suspect he knows the answer because he has a face as if every single word he says tastes bad.
‘Oh, I don’t know really,’ I lie. I kind of know. It’s been a while. ‘I’m trying to grow it a bit but it never seems to get any longer.’
‘It’s breaking,’ he snaps at me. ‘Do you straighten it?’
‘Yes…’
Zander says something in… I think Italian? Whatever it is, I don’t imagine it translates into anything positive. His hair is, of course, absolutely perfect. Longish on top, swept over to one side. It’s possibly the sleekest black hair I have ever seen in my life. So perfectly shiny I can almost see things reflecting in it.
It’s just me and Zander in the small training salon. Millsy is off somewhere getting something waxed. I dread to think what. I do kind of wish he were here though, to defend me against this moody stylist.
Zander puffs air from his cheeks before relaxing into something calmer.
‘OK, we can fix this… So, you want longer hair?’
‘Yes… Well, that was what I was working towards…’
‘Are you in a hurry?’
‘Nope, no hurry. I just really appreciate you taking the time to do this for me.’
Zander bats my gratitude away with his hand.
‘And I can do whatever I want?’ he confirms for maybe the fourth time.
‘Yes…’ I reply, although every time I have to answer the question, I sound a little less like I mean it.
‘Allora,’ he says. ‘Let’s do it. You want me to do it away from the mirror, so you can have a big reveal?’
‘OK,’ I reply brightly, instantly wishing I hadn’t said that. At least if I were watching, I could tell him to stop.
To start with, Zander starts snipping away at my chest-length, dark blonde locks. I have no idea how much he’s taking off, but it seems like a lot, from the hair I can see gathering on the floor.
Eventually Millsy joins us.
‘Oh my God,’ he blurts, a look of terror on his face. Before I have chance to ask what’s wrong, but not before I panic, Millsy starts laughing.
‘He’s quite the prankster, isn’t he?’ Zander says with a laugh. ‘Such a lad.’
On face value, Millsy does seem like a ‘lad, lad, lad’ type but… I wouldn’t have thought that type would be so thoughtful.
‘So, what are you doing?’ Millsy asks Zander.
‘Something completely different,’ he replies. He squeezes my shoulder. ‘Whose hair do you like?’
‘I’ve always thought Jessica Simpson had nice hair,’ I say.
‘Forget Jessica Simpson, what about Jessica Rabbit?’ Millsy suggests. ‘You’ve got the curves, all you need is the hair.’
I blush because Millsy has noticed my body shape. I didn’t think he looked at me as a woman. A potential friend, at best, if not just a charity case.
‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ I say. ‘I’ve been blonde all my life.’
‘Well, you should be comfortable,’ Millsy insists. ‘But I can totally see it.’
‘Do you want to see some colours?’ Zander asks me, dashing off before returning with a book full of locks of hair in varying colours. ‘So, this shade of blonde right here, that’s your Jessica Simpson shade. Over the page… this deep red is your Jessica Rabbit. I think both would look gorgeous.’