Standing up from the table, I ignore my shot and walk toward Kate. Her eyes are sympathetic and her head is cocked to the side in slight curiosity, since I didn’t take my turn. She hesitantly reaches a hand out, assuming I’m coming over to her to give her the cue, but I keep it firmly grasped in my hand.
I stride right to her until we are toe to toe and she has to lean back so she can look at me. I’m impressed she’s not intimidated.
“Let me ask you something,” I say softly as I stare down at her, the alcohol making me bold and probably a bit stupid. Her eyes are open and patient. Reaching a hand up, I tug on the tight knot her hair is wrapped in at the back of her head. “Why do you keep all this hair hidden?”
Her eyes go round in surprise and her cheeks turn pink. Taking a step back, she dislodges my hand and it falls away. Her own hand comes up and nervously pats at the back of her head, making sure no stray hairs came loose. “It’s just easier,” she says nervously.
“No,” I say immediately, shaking my head in denial of her answer. “That’s not it. Easy would be just putting it up in a ponytail with a rubber band. You take time to wrap it tight, and I bet there are a million pins in there holding it in place. You’re purposely hiding it, and I want to know why.”
Kate shrugs. “It’s just something I’ve always done.”
“Why?” I press her.
“I don’t know,” she says, her voice getting high with frustration.
“You do,” I correct her, stepping in closer. “Why do you hide it?”
She swallows hard and starts to chew on her bottom lip.
“Tell me why, Kate,” I order her softly. “It’s beautiful. I want to know why you hide it.”
From me, I add on in my head.
Kate lets out a soft gasp of surprise, and fuck…I’m surprised myself I just admitted that to her, but I’m in too deep now. I want the answer.
Stepping in until there’s only inches of space separating us, I reach up and grasp her jaw lightly. Leaning in, I whisper, “Why?”
She closes her eyes briefly and takes in a deep breath. When she opens them back up, I see the open book of Kate that I’ve come to appreciate. The honest and blunt Kate.
Expelling the air, she says, “Because boys noticed me early on and they weren’t nice about it. I was scared. So I took efforts to hide myself. I don’t want the attention.”
It’s not working, I think to myself.
“From how early on?” I ask curiously.
“Thirteen.”
Damn. Ten years of hiding her identity. Not that she was hiding it all that well, now that I know what’s there. She’s sort of like Clark Kent. Once you knew he was Superman, it was kind of hard not to recognize him for what he was just because he slicked his hair into a nerdy style and wore big glasses.
“The baggy clothes?” I ask, curious as to just what efforts she put into this concealment.
She nods and drops her gaze from me. I stare down at her, waiting for her to look back at me. She doesn’t, and I’m glad. If she did, I’d probably lean in and kiss her, and that definitely would take stupid to a whole new level.
I drop my hand from her jaw and turn away from her, walking back to the pool table. “You’re not surrounded by thirteen-year-old boys anymore. I like your hair better down, and frankly, you’re really not hiding anything with it like that.”
Grimacing, I bend down to take another shot. Why the fuck did I just say that to her? She probably thinks I’m a nut job.
“I think I’m going to head back to bed now. I’m really tired,” she says quietly.
I don’t turn around to look at her, afraid of what I might see on her face. So instead I just say “Good night,” and I hear the sound of her receding footsteps.
Chapter 10
Kate
I look at myself in the bathroom mirror and I’m torn. To put my hair up or not, that is the question. Certainly not as deep a question as Shakespeare posed in Hamlet, but it’s causing me consternation all the same.
Last night was beyond surreal. I’d taken the opportunity when I heard Zack down in the basement to bring up a touchy subject and, I’d hoped, air it out. When I saw he’d been drinking when I got down there, I had a moment of doubt, but then I saw he seemed to be in a generally mellow mood, and when he invited me to play pool, I couldn’t decline the opening.
He took me by surprise when he told me he wasn’t mad at me for the seat-belt thing. By the tone of his voice, I believed him. And so that left a big unanswered question. One I was afraid to ask.
Why was he being distant with me, then, if not for the thing with the seat belt?
A thought skittered through my mind and it was so ludicrous, I had to immediately discount it. But Sutton’s words kept coming back to haunt me.
Zack couldn’t keep his eyes off of you at the game.
It’s absolutely idiotic to think that he’s attracted to me, right? I mean, if he was attracted to me, he wouldn’t be so aloof. He’d be nicer than usual, right?
Or, my subconscious pipes up, he thinks you’re off-limits because you’re Ben’s nanny and thus he’s making himself be distant with you.
Shaking my head at myself in the mirror¸ I refuse to believe that’s what’s going on. Decision made, I pick up the bobby pins and prepare to wind my hair up and out of the way.
But…what about the fact that he said my hair was beautiful? That he liked it? That he wanted to know why I was hiding it?