a/n : currently on quarantine and don't have school, so be expecting TONS of updates on this (and my other [new] story 'Cupcake') !!
* * *
"Alright, what are you wanting?" I ask Harry, turning on my e-file.
"What the fuck is that?" he asks worriedly, withdrawing his hands and holding them up against his chest like a little kid.
"Relax," I say, chuckling and holding my hand out for him to give me his, "it's e-file."
"What does it do?" He slowly and hesitantly brings his hands back onto my desk.
"It can do a lot of things," I explain, "But what I'm using it for right now is just to prep your nails for the gel polish."
"Is it- is it going to hurt?" He seemed utterly terrified. It was honestly cute and I couldn't help but laugh fondly.
"Not at all," I say, shaking my head. I bring the electric file up to my had and run it over the back of my hand to show him how painless it actually was. "See? Completely harmless."
Now that he was sure I wouldn't drill his finger off, he relaxed his hands and placed them just where I need them.
On the desk in front of me, that is.
"So what is it that you're wanting?" I ask again, taking ahold of his pinky on his right hand to begin filing off the top shiny layer.
"I thought about it all night," he says, scooting his rolling chair forward.
"Okay," I laugh at how obviously excited he was for me to do his nails.
"So on this hand," he raises his left hand—the one I wasn't working on, "I want like all the fruit from my songs."
"Okay, so like cherry, watermelon, kiwi, maybe strawberry and..."
"Oh shit, that's only four huh?" he says, his smile dropping as he realizes his plan was ruined.
"Yeah, but we can just do something else on like your thumb or something," I suggest, shrugging.
"Yeah that sounds like a good idea," he agrees, nodding, "but what though?"
"We have time to figure it out," I say. "What do you want me to do on the other hand then? The same thing?"
"No, actually," he says, smiling brightly again. "I want it to have something to do with the album. But not just pink and blue."
"Okay, Ummm..." I think for a moment. "We could write out 'Fine Line'."
"But I only have five fingers," he giggles, "That's eight letters."
"I know," I say, holding my hand out for Harry to give me his other hand, "We could write out 'Fine' on four of your fingers then 'Line' on your thumb."
"Oh my God," he gasps, "that's a great idea!"
"I try," I joke, shrugging playfully.
* * *
"So have you figured out what you want on that thumb yet?" I ask, gesturing for Harry to place his hand under the UV light for like the millionth time.
"A smiley face," he says, tilting his head to the side and smiling.
"Alright," I nod, "but why a smiley face?"
"Because you make me so happy," he says in a corny voice, obviously joking.
"Okay," I snort, shaking my head at his cheekiness.
So far, I was pleasantly surprised by the job I did on his nails. The designs weren't complicated and most definitely not the hardest ones I've ever done, but I was deathly nervous. The fact that my hands didn't look like a caffeine addict going through withdrawals while I was writing the letters on Harry's nails blew me away.
"Oooh, what if it was like a smiley face but it was also like a...like a flower?" he says, his face brightening up. I laugh at his difficulty hiding his excitement about the nail art I was doing for him.
"I can do that," I say, nodding my head.
"Okay, then that's what I want," he says, looking down and observing every slight movement my hands made.
"What color do you want behind the smiley flower?" I ask, looking through all my gel polishes.
"Blue," he requests simply, "like a light, pale blue."
After searching for a moment, I found the perfect blue for the look I think he was going for. It was a pastel sky blue color and looked absolutely stunning, especially on its own.
"Like this?" I ask, opening out the polish to show him the color.
"Oh yeah, that's perfect," he says, nodding vigorously.
"K," I say, closing the drawer that held all my cool-toned colors and scooting my chair up closer to the desk.
* * *
"Thank you so so much," Harry says for the millionth time as I take a seat in the driver's seat of my car.
"Harry," I say, "for the hundredth time, it's no problem."
"I know, I just..." he sighs, "Linda didn't seem very happy I was there."
"Linda's never happy," I say, my voice slightly strained as I craned my head to look behind the car to back out of my parking spot.
"I noticed," Harry scoffs before laughing and shaking his head.
"Yeah, she's not the most pleasant manager to have," I admit, shifting the car's gear from reverse to drive.
"Lili," Harry says quietly, inhaling sharply, "I'm gonna be a hundred percent honest with you. I heard what Linda was saying."
"Oh my God," my breath catches in my throat, "Harry I'm so sorry! She's just so..."
"It's okay," he says calmly, actually laughing a little--as if it didn't bother him one bit. "I get that kind of shit all the time. I'm totally used to it. But I do really appreciate you standing up for me, even if I don't necessarily need you to."
"Well I don't get why she got so pissed off over the fact that I was painting your nails," I say, the same emotions I felt when talking to Linda washing over me.
Harry chuckles and looks down. "Yeah, I don't really get why people care so much either. But, it is what it is."
"Please know Harry, I could not care less what the fuck you do with your nails," I say, my anger levels rising just at the thought of all the judgmental people in the world.
"I know," he says, smirking, "you wouldn't have done it if you weren't comfortable with it."
"True," I say, laughing.
"So," Harry draws out the 'o', leaning back in his seat as I continue to drive, "tell me more about Linda."
"There isn't much to tell," I say truthfully. "Other than she's a bitch."
He laughs and looks back over at me. "How come you feel like you have to put up with her shit? No one deserves to be pushed around like that. Especially not you."
"But I love my coworkers and, according to my research, this is the best paying salons in the city. So I tolerate her."
Harry purses his lips together in thought for a second before turning his head to look at me. "Why don't you move then?"
"I can't leave Jess," I remind him, tightening my grip on the steering wheel.
"Well then what are you going to do when she gets married?"
My eyes widened.
Sure I've thought about it and whatnot, but Jess says she isn't going to move out right away when she and Jackson get married in a few months. So what was I going to do when she moved out?
"I don't know," I say lowly.
"This may seem like a long shot," he says, "but if it ever gets to be too much for you—living out here along without Jess, that is—I have a house out in California you could always come live in."
"As much fun as that sounds, I still have a job here to attend to," I turn him down as nicely as I could.
"I have a lot of friends who would kill to get their nails done by you," he says. "So who's to say you wouldn't have a job there?"
"I don't know," I say hesitantly, biting my lip.
"And you'd probably make a lot more money there than you do here...just saying."
To be completely honest, I thought he was joking at first. But once he started talking about me doing his friends' nails, that's when I realized it wasn't a joke.
"I'll think about it," I say shakily, turning down the street my townhouse resides on.