Just a Hair Stylist - Chris Evans story \\✔️

Chapter thirty-six

Meeting Chris' mother was nothing like meeting his sister, or his brother for that matter. Chatting

with them was a breeze. But talking to Mrs. Evans, you were in a constant state of worry. Did you

sound smart enough? Were you really funny, or did she give you a fake laugh? Did you smile

enough? Oh, no. Too much? Are you interesting at all? Never before had you wanted so badly to

march down the hill and just scream, with all your might, into the valley, just let out all the nerves

and tension.

All you could do was hope it was going well. Scott, sure as hell, looked amused. Chris had a smile

on his face, in one shape or form, practically the whole time. But Mrs. Evans? She was hard to

read. You answered all her questions about your jobs, about your time in Los Angeles, your family

back home. You made sure to ask her about her grandkids and listened attentively to anything she

had to offer about her children and Boston. It looked good on paper, but- Gah! You just weren't

sure.

When Scott smacked your knee under the table and suggested you help him with dessert, you

practically jumped at the chance. In the relative safety of the kitchen, you let out a sigh of relief

and he laughed at you. Picking out the pieces to make strawberry shortcakes from the fridge, Scott

shook his head at you.

"You look like you're going to have a heart attack," he told you.

"Yes," you empathically nodded. "I am." You turned to see him. "Is it that obvious?"

"No. I'm just teasing. It's going great," he assured you.

"Is it?" you worried, taking down a stack of bowls from the cupboard. "Because I can't tell. I think

she hates me."

"She doesn't hate you," Scott laughed.

"No," you disagreed. "I feel it. There is no way I'm good enough for him." You grimaced, palming

your hand to your forehead. "Oh, my god. She thinks I'm a gold digger. I know it."

Scott was clearly enjoying watching you sweat. He threw a quick glance outside, before coming

over to give you a hug. "You're not a gold digger," he reminded you. Scott cupped your cheeks in

his hands, doing his best to straighten his face as he looked you in the eye. "And you're better than

good enough for him. Shit, if anything, he's not good enough for you," he said, humorously patting

your cheek.

You turned out of his hands and rolled your eyes. "Oh, my god," you groaned. "You fuckin' actors

and your lines."

"It's not a line," he insisted, unable to hold back his chuckle anymore. "It's fine. She's just being a

mom. Of course, she's gonna try and bust your balls. It's her oldest son for fuck's sake."

"So, she does this to all his girlfriends," you hoped, helping arrange cake and fruit in the bowls.

"Not really," he shrugged. "Honestly, other girls always struck me a little vapid or self-absorbed.