Why Don't We: Imagines and Preferences | REQUESTS OPEN

Jack Avery: Nails

This was inspired by two things:
1) Jonah and Jack: I love how they've been painting their nails recently. I think I read somewhere that it was because people were hating on guys that paint their nails on Twitter. If that's true, wow, good for them. We need more people like Jonah and Jack in the world to stand up for people :)
2) The bend and snap scene in Legally Blonde. Kind of.

Enjoy????

You were 26 and living in the heart of L.A.. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision; with nothing but a business degree and nail tech certification, you hopped on a plane to California, where you opened your own salon.

Surprisingly, you already had many clients, several of whom were well-known celebrities:
Jeffree Star, Taylor Swift, and Lady Gaga were all regulars.

July 8th was a slow day in the salon. You had sent your employees home, since there were only a few customers on the schedule. This was probably due to the sweltering heat; it was the hottest day of the year, and L.A. people avoided leaving their air-conditioned mansions at all costs.

You were sitting at the front desk, reading your favorite book. Your new favorite Spotify playlist, "2018 Throwbacks" was quietly playing over the shop's sound system. You heard the door open.

You thought to yourself: That's weird. Rihanna's not supposed to be here until 4:30.

A new customer came strolling up to the desk. He was wearing all Gucci. This was nothing unusual; plenty of people in L.A. dressed like this. A pair of sunglasses covered his face. You took notice of his unique, curly hair.

"Hi, sir," you said, while checking your computer. "Uh oh, I don't think I have you on the schedule."

"Oh, sorry. I don't have an appointment, but I was wondering if you could fit me in," he replied.

"Sure, I guess I have time. I almost never get walk-ins," you said, setting up a station. "What would you like?"

"Nothing too complicated, just black."

"Oh okay," you said. "Acrylics?"

"No, just my natural nails," he replied.

You looked up from what you were doing, confused. "Natural?" you asked. You shrugged. "Okay, have a seat." He sat.

You grabbed a base coat, a black polish, and a top coat, and you put them on the table in front of him.

The man's nails were nothing unusual. They were short, and neatly trimmed. You didn't have much filing to do.

As you cracked open the base coat, your customer spoke. "It's really hot today," he said.

"Yeah," you replied. "I'm surprised you came. I feel like most people here hide in their houses when it's this warm."

This type of small talk was pretty uncommon. Most celebrities and rich people you had met were arrogant; they preferred to talk about themselves. This mysterious man was an exception. You continued the conversation as the base coat dried.

"Do you have any plans for today?" you asked.

"Not really," he said. "I was just walking by, when I saw this salon. Are you the owner? You look too young to own such a fancy place."

"Yup, I'm the owner," you said, blushing a little. L.A. people never asked you about yourself. "I moved here a few months ago to open it. Business has actually been really good."

"You have a magnetic personality," he said. "I can see why people come."

This was getting really strange. You had never had a customer be this friendly. Who was this guy? Something about him seemed familiar, especially his hair.

Before you had a chance to ask who he was, a new song came on, and you got distracted:

You know me the best
You know my worst,
See me hurt, but you don't judge
That, right there, is the scariest feeling

"I remember this song," you said, in a daze. "Growing up, I was a big Why Don't We fan. I even went to some of their concerts. It was sad when they started to fade; I wish they were still making music."

"Yeah, me too," he replied. Even through his sunglasses, you could see the pain in his face as he said this.

The base coat was dry, so you opened up the black polish. It was brand new, and spread easily on the man's nails.

When you were done painting, the two of you sat in silence. You used the opportunity to think:

Who the heck is this guy, and why does he seem so familiar? I wish he would take off those sunglasses; then I would know.

You couldn't deny it: you were attracted to this guy. Something about him sent shivers down your spine, but in a good way. He seemed like he had a great, dry sense of humor, but you didn't know how you knew that. Nevertheless, he was one of the most beautiful, unique-looking people you had seen in your shop.

Another Why Don't We Song came on:

You got a bad reputation in my neighborhood
You drive me mad with temptation 'cause it tastes so good
You know I wouldn't walk away even if I could
It took one night, one try, ayy
Damn, I'm hooked

The man smiled a little. You looked at him, and knew.

"Wait..." you said. "Hold on..."

You didn't even have to ask: he took off his glasses and ran his fingers through his hair.

"No way," you said.

"Yes, way," he replied, with false enthusiasm.

Once again, the two of you sat in silence. He stared straight into your eyes, and you stared back into his.

Suddenly, he spoke: "I think they're dry. I'll go without a top coat; that way, I'll be able to come back sooner." He pulled out his wallet. "How much do I owe you?" he asked.

"It's on me," you replied.

"No, I insist. Here:" said Jack as he handed you two fifties.

"That's way too much!" you exclaimed.

"You can make it up to me by giving me your number," he said. He handed you his phone.

You stood in shock for a second before entering your phone number and name. After double, and triple checking that you put it in correctly, you handed the phone back to him.

"Thanks," he said, while walking towards the door. He looked around the room one last time, then looked back at you.

"I've always wanted to say this to someone, for real," said Jack. "Damn, I'm hooked."

Maybe it was the nail polish fumes, but you felt light headed after that.