Three’s A Crowd: Love, Lust or the Latter?

Hello Again

The next morning, Michaela was in the zone. Coffee in one hand, brow pencil in the other, she moved around her salon like a machine. The calm from yesterday was long gone; today was booked and busy, and she liked it that way. No time to think. No time to feel. Just focus and slay.

She had almost forgotten about the appointment she’d seen pop up the night before until her receptionist poked her head into the back room.

“Your next client’s here—Adam R.?”

Michaela paused, her hand mid-swipe across her coffee lid. Adam R. She hadn’t even registered the last name when she saw it.

No way.

She peeked out from the back—and sure enough, there he was. Standing tall, relaxed, and handsome as ever in the waiting area, flipping through a magazine like he belonged there. He wore dark jeans and a fitted button-up, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He didn’t look nervous. He looked intentional.

Lord have mercy, Michaela thought. She inhaled deeply, fixed her face into her professional smile, and walked out.

“Adam,” she said smoothly. “Didn’t expect to see you again.”

He looked up and smiled, all warm and easy. “Figured you wouldn’t. But I meant what I said—I wanted a proper chance to redeem myself.”

She raised a brow. “So you booked a haircut consultation?”

“I figured if I ruined your lunch, the least I could do is let you ruin my hair.”

She gave him a look.

He laughed. “Kidding. I actually do need a cut. But I won’t lie—I also wanted to see you again. Hope that’s not too forward.”

Michaela motioned for him to follow her. “Depends how good the tip is.”

He grinned and followed her back to her chair.

As she draped the cape around him, her fingers brushed his shoulders, and she felt him stiffen slightly before relaxing again. His eyes met hers in the mirror, and for a moment, the room felt smaller.

“So,” she said, clipping his hair up with practiced ease. “What’s your story, Adam R.? What do you do when you’re not crashing into strangers and ruining their meals?”

“I’m a digital marketing consultant,” he replied. “I help people build online brands and manage campaigns. I work remote most of the time. Travel a lot.”

“Interesting,” she replied, keeping her tone neutral. “I would’ve pegged you for an athlete or something.”

He smirked. “I used to play football in college. But turns out, brains pay the bills a little more consistently than biceps.”

She tried not to laugh. “Good to know.”

They chatted lightly as she worked—music playing in the background, scissors snipping, the scent of product lingering in the air. Michaela hated how easy it was to talk to him. How natural it felt. It had been a long time since someone held a conversation with her like this—without expectation, without ego.

But still. She didn’t trust it.

When she finished, she turned his chair toward the mirror and dusted off his neck. “All done.”

Adam leaned forward to get a good look, turning his head side to side. “Damn. You’re good.”

“I know,” she said simply, removing the cape.

He stood, running his hand through his hair. “Alright, Kayla. That was the best cut I’ve had in years.”

She shrugged, playing it cool. “I get that a lot.”

He pulled out his phone to pay and added a tip that made her blink. She raised an eyebrow. “You know that’s way too much, right?”

“I know. Consider it interest on the debt I owe you,” he said smoothly, slipping his phone into his pocket.

He lingered for a second, then looked at her more seriously. “Listen… I know I might come off a little bold. But I’m not trying to play games. I just… really liked meeting you. And I’d love the chance to get to know you better—outside of haircuts and nachos.”

Michaela looked at him, searching his face for the red flags she was so used to spotting.

“You seem like the type who gets what he wants,” she said cautiously.

“Not always,” he said. “But I don’t mind trying.”

That made her pause.

He wasn’t pushy. He wasn’t love-bombing her. He was just… real.

She hated it.

“I don’t date clients,” she said quickly, half-true.

He smirked. “Then I guess I’ll have to find another barber.”

She laughed before she could stop herself. Damn it.

“Well, Adam,” she said, folding her arms. “Thanks for coming in. I hope your next stylist is half as good.”

He nodded slowly, like he understood the wall she was putting up—even if he didn’t plan to let it stand forever. “We’ll see each other again. I’ve got a feeling.”

He turned and walked toward the door. Just before it closed behind him, he looked back over his shoulder.

“Nice seeing you again, Kayla.”