beginning to redden from the cold. I couldn’t say why exactly, but it made me want to offer my coat, or, I don’t know, warm her up somehow. “It sounded like you were both having a serious talk and it would’ve been rude to just…barge in.”
Had she been listening? The idea of her being curious enough to do such a thing brought forth a swell of pleasure. “What did you hear?”
Now she focused on the toes of her shoes as we walked. “Something about wanting to be famous. I don’t know.”
“She was telling me about her upbringing. Apparently she was born on a farm in Kansas,” I said, and stared ahead at the approaching cars out on the road.
Rose’s eyes flicked to mine. “Really? I never would’ve guessed that. She seems so polished. I mean, the only thing that’s Dorothy about her is the hair.”
I shrugged. “She’s showbiz, but not in a way that’s intimidating.”
Rose poked me in the arm. “Yeah, well, of course she wouldn’t seem that way to you. You’re both on the same level of beauty. You don’t know what it’s like being an outsider trying to handle all that…charisma coming at you full force.”
Her admission took me completely by surprise. I stopped in my stride to stand in front of her and ask low, “You think I’m beautiful?”
She blushed at my question, then answered defensively, “Well, there’s clearly a reason you used to be famous.”
“Are you saying I’m all looks and no talent?” I feigned offence.
“Oh, shut up.” She scowled. “You know it was both. Now can we please keep walking? I need to get out of this cold before my toes freeze off.”
I kept up the pace with her but didn’t let it go. “Just out of curiosity, what exactly is it like to deal with full-force charisma? Because it sounds terrifying.”
Rose shook her head, trying to hold back a smile as she stopped in front of a shop door and pulled it open. “Completely horrific,” she deadpanned, and I barked a laugh. She stared at me a moment, as though stunned by the sound. Blinking once, twice, three times, she shook her head and continued inside. I wanted to ask her what I’d done to warrant such a reaction, but pushed back the impulse. If I had an odd laugh, then I didn’t really want to know.
The barber shop was small, with navy walls and red leather upholstery. A blond man had his back turned to us as he swept the floor. Rose let out a low whistle and he swung around, smiling widely at the sight of her.
“Rose! Long time no see! How’s Julian? It’s been a couple weeks since he’s been in for a haircut.”
“He’s good. Rocking the long-haired look at the moment. I’m sure he’ll get sick of it soon and be in for a trim.”
“Well, you tell him I’ll be more than happy to see his pretty face,” he replied before his attention fell on me. He winked. “Speaking of which, hello there.”
“Don’t be a flirt, Graham,” Rose chided. “This is Damon. He’s playing the lead in a new show of Moulin Rouge, so if you can summon your best Ewan McGregor circa 2001, we’ll be forever in your debt.”
“Oh, I can do better than that. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Damon,” he said, offering his hand. We shook, and he leaned close to whisper, “You’re far hotter than Ewan anyway.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I simply shook my head in good humour.
Rose was already taking off her coat and hanging it up on a rack by the door. “Hush. You’ll leave the poor man traumatised,” she told him playfully. I loved the easy way she had with people, so naturally friendly and warm. She couldn’t see me staring at her since she was looking at Graham. It was a good thing, too, because if she had, she might have realised that if anyone had a show crush, it was me.
Graham went to prepare his workstation then and Rose approached me, silently helping me out of my coat. I was quiet, enjoying her closeness as she ran her hand over the sleeve of my woollen jumper.
“This is nice,” she murmured, and my eyes instinctively wandered to the cream silk blouse she wore. It was the first time I’d seen her out of her regulation dance clothes. She must’ve changed before coming to meet me.
“Yours is nice also,” I said, a frog in my throat.