Just a Hair Stylist - Chris Evans story \\✔️

Chapter Fifty

"Time for bed," Chris sighed, taking a look at the alarm clock by the bed.

You agreed with a nod, gathering up the long empty box of chocolates from Harrods. "Long day tomorrow," you noted, closing up the box to put aside on your nightstand.

"You ready to go home?" Chris asked, turning off the television and setting the remote on the table on his side of the bed.

Tugging up the sheet and scooting down in the bed, you gave a conflicted hum and shrug of your shoulders. "Kinda?"

Chris chuckled, softly, clicking off the lamp by the bed. "You like it here?"

"Well, yeah," you admitted, turning on your side and nuzzling your pillow, while Chris spooned up behind you. "Everybody's so nice here, there's that 24 hour snack buffet downstairs- And you know how I feel about free snacks." Chris hummed his serious agreement, his forehead touching the back of your head and his exhales ghosting warm trails down your neck and shoulder. "I don't know," you sighed. "It's like I got to see so much on the trip, but like I didn't see anything at all. There's so much."

"It was a busy trip," he agreed. "Not a lot of free time. I tried to warn you."

"Oh, I'm not complaining," you quickly corrected, twisting your head around to see him as best you could. "I just mean, time flies when you're having fun."

"I know," Chris smiled, stretching a kiss to your cheek before you turned back to your pillow. "If you had to pick one place to go back to, where would you go?"

"Oh, wow." Your eyes and smile widened at the possibilities, even though you knew he couldn't see. "That's a good question." Chewing on your lip, you gave it a bit of consideration, before deciding, "Here. I'd pick London."

"Why?"

Taking a deep breath, you figured, "Well, I've spent a little more time here than I got to in Asia. Beijing and Singapore were great. But something about the pace here, maybe? It doesn't feel as busy. Not like busy busy, just, like, the crowd is thinner and everything's more relaxed. Besides," you giggled, "everyone's so charming, with their accents. I could listen to them talk all day."

"Fancy the accent, do ya, luv?" Chris asked, with a cockney accent any chimney sweep would be proud of.

"Oh, my god," you burst out laughing.

Behind you, you felt the suppressed chuckle move his chest, as he tightened his arm around your waist, and pressed his smiling lips into your shoulder. "You gonna stay heah, with yeh fancy pants palace guard boyfriend? Bahstin's naht good enough for you, anymore?" he teased.

God damn! That natural Boston baritone makes you weak. You'd heard it enough, over the last several months, to be brave enough to try your own, "Nevah!"

"What?!" Chris laughed, thoroughly surprised, straightening away from your shoulder to crane his neck up to see your blushing face. "Did you ju- Do it again."

"No," you shook your head, burying your face into your pillow, inexplicably embarrassed.

"Cah'mon," he urged, giving your side a tickling pinch. "Say 'Go Red Sahx'."

You jerked at his touch, squirming into a ball to hide. "No," you laughingly whined. "That was terrible."

"Noo. It was beautiful," Chris promised, squeezing you tight. "You're a natural. Say 'Go Pats'."

"Stop," you giggled.

"Say you're going to the packie for some beah," he begged, still sniggering.

"Say I'm what?" you questioned. "What does that even mean?"