Page 10 of Starlight Salon
“In here?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t want any more sleep?”
He shrugs. “I’ll rest while we watch something. I’ve slept most of today already.”
“I don’t know if?—”
“I feel better when you’re with me.” He brushes my fingers again and I sink to the bed, keeping my distance, but not leaving like I should. Getting sick doesn’t cross my mind. I’m too focused on what he said, and missing the warmth of his hand on mine which he removed when I sat down.
“I’ll stay for a while. What do you want to watch?”
He puts the remote beside me on the bed. “Whatever you want.”
“Really? It’s a universal rule the sick person gets to choose.” I nudge the remote closer to him, but he doesn’t look at it. His eyes stay on my face.
“Nah. You’re helping me, so you choose.”
I tilt my head. “Yeah?”
“It means I get to learn something about you. Will you choose a movie or a TV show? Reality, sitcom, or drama?”
If he’s offering me all the power, who am I to turn it down? I grasp the remote to click through the options and stumble across the watched previously. “You like Friends?”
“What’s not to like? Besides a few outdated ideas, it has everything you need in a sitcom. Funny characters and mindless stories.”
“So long as you don’t like Ross, we’ll get on just fine.” I press play on season two, lean against the headboard, and cautiously swing my legs on the bed. If we’re watching TV, I’m not going to perch on the mattress.
“More of a Joey guy.”
“I don’t trust people who don’t like Joey.” I squirm around trying to get comfortable. Lachlan has both the pillows meaning my back is against the cold headboard.
He laughs at something Chandler says on the screen. Even though I’ve only known him a short while, it’s relaxing lying here with him, like I can breathe. I’ve watched him for so long and only truly spoken to him today, but it feels natural. Like I’m supposed to be here. Working long hours trying to get the salon running again, I’d almost forgotten how nice it is to lie in bed and watch TV with someone.
I jump when something hits my shoulder. A glance confirms it’s a pillow.
“You’re sitting instead of lying.”
Lach had found the energy to take the second pillow I’d manoeuvred behind him and thrown it beside me. The covers are tucked near his chin, and he’s lying on his side, edging closer to me.
“You don’t want it?”
“You don’t look comfy.” He removes a hand from the covers and nudges the pillow at me when I don’t take it. “You should be comfy.”
I put the pillow behind me and shimmy down a little, not fully lying down, but reclining next to him on top of the covers.
He nods, seeming satisfied, and turns his head to the TV.
“Do you enjoy being a hairdresser?” Lachlan murmurs, keeping his attention on Friends.
I smile. “I love it. Making someone feel amazing and comfortable in their own skin. It gives me a rush.”
“I bet you’re amazing at it. Your hair always looks good. Soft.”
I huff a laugh and glance at him. He’s definitely delirious again, but I’m not complaining. He’s gazing up at me and rolls closer until he’s pressed against me. “You like my hair?”
His chin dips. “You leave it down when you work and tie it up when you finish for the day.”