I never thought I’d live to see the day she’d actually walk into the shop. She spent the last five years watching from afar, which made sense. A girl like her doesn’t belong here. With her white Chucks and a pink skirt that hangs from her barely-there hips, this girl couldn’t look more out of place if she tried.

“Ha ha,” Murph teases. “You’re up.”

“Okay, go get them signed in. Let me grab a smoke, and I’ll be right up.”

“Fine,” he bellows. Then his hand lands firmly on my shoulder. “A smoke.” His eyes narrow, and I nod back.

Fuck, I know he’s just worried about me, but I hate being treated like I need to be babysat. Whatever I want to do behind the shop is my fucking business.

And if I want to chase the sweet, sweet ecstasy of the powered bliss in my pocket, that’s my choice.

Although I am working, and it’s his business, so maybe I will just wait until after my shift to do anything other than smoke. The little plastic bag feels like it’s burning a hole through my pants and into my skin. Damn, I wish it would.

He says I have no self-control, but look at me. Waiting until after my shift to get high.

The girl up front is being obnoxious. I can hear her through the back door. When I come back in, I do the usual routine: wash my hands, prep my supplies, and sanitize the seat and everything in my station. I have to appreciate how clean and righteous Murph runs things here. I wouldn’t work anywhere else.

Rounding the corner to the front of the shop, I stop in my tracks when I see the girl again. But this time, my eyes aren’t on her squeaky-clean sneakers or pastel pink skirt. I’m drawn to her eyes, nearly as blue as mine. Why haven’t I ever really looked into those big doe eyes before?

Every line of her face is delicate.

I have to snap out of it before I make a fool of myself staring at this beautiful mystery girl.

After I call the client, Natalie, she starts babbling on about a dolphin, and it takes every ounce of resolve in my body to not groan.

I don’t know why I tease the blonde about getting a tattoo. I think I want to see her smile, and it’s perfect. This girl is not my type, but I still want to look at her, hear her voice, swim in those perfect blue eyes.

When we reach my station, Natalie straddles the chair and immediately pulls down her shirt where she wants the dolphin. We make small talk while I clean the area and draw the design onto her skin. She chatters about coming to Wickett every spring and how she loves getting down with the locals. I fake my laughter through her story, and then my eyes slide up toward the quiet girl sitting in a chair in the corner.