The Heart Wants What It Wants: The Sequel

9

When she pushed open the shop door, he'd looked up from his work, pausing as he took in her appearance.  She wasn't sure if his eyes traveling from head to toe and back up again so blatantly was a good thing or a sign that he disapproved, and as she sat down and waited for him she figured there was no point in guessing.

She'd soon know and it didn't matter anyway.  She liked her hair and she liked her new clothes.

Soon after she sat down he switched his gun off and stood, saying something to the man lying on his stomach as he stood.  She looked down at her phone, pretending to be absorbed in her Instagram feed as he walked past.

"Hey," he said quietly.  "Can you come back here a minute?"

She glanced over at his client, lying there unfinished for the night.  He'd never left a client sitting before.

She stood and followed him back into the back, taking in the way his back muscles filled out his t-shirt.  When they'd reached the lounge, he turned and looked at her again as he'd done a moment ago.

"You changed your hair, you're wearing new clothes I haven't seen before..."

"Yeah?" she asked matter-of-factly.  

She wasn't going to apologize if that's what he was waiting for.

He pulled off his gloves and put them in the wastebasket nearby, which was brimming with trash.  He rubbed his face, looking exhausted and unhappy.

She'd spent all day convincing herself that his distant treatment had been unfair and that she deserved better, and had even begun resorting to ignoring the texts she'd been wanting so desperately for the past few days.  Now she felt terrible.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice softening.  "You look like you aren't sleeping well."

"I'm not, and I've gotta go back in there but I just can't fucking concentrate right now."

She assumed he'd meant because of his fatigue but the way he was looking at her again told a different story.  

She stepped forward and didn't ask, wrapping her arms around his waist.  She didn't say anything or expect anything as her cheek pressed to his warm chest.  He smelled incredible.

He put his arms around her too but he didn't squeeze back.  After a moment, his arms fell and she stepped back, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

"Will you stay until I'm done?  I have to finish him up and then I got some shading to do on a piece for my last client."

"I'll stay," she nodded.

He turned and headed back, reminding her the fridge had pop in it if she wanted some.  

She sat back down in her chair and watched him as he said something to his client and pulled on a new pair of gloves.  He glanced over at her and instead of the neutral gaze he'd given her the past few days, something else was there.   Analyzing his every move or lack of one was only getting her into trouble, so she tried not to read into the odd look.

Unable to take her eyes off of him as he worked, she wondered what would happen after close tonight.  He'd asked her to stay until after he was finished tonight, and that meant talking.

After the man had gone, she watched as he cleaned and prepped for his last customer.  Talking with her for a couple of minutes had put him behind slightly so she wasn't concerned that he hadn't come back over to talk.  Sure enough, his last client arrived just as he was finishing up.

See?  Stop reading into things so pessimistically, she scolded herself.

The girl walked in and chatted with him, and she could see he wasn't even his old self with others.  He was trying, putting on a mask as he'd done the day of the funeral, but he wasn't fooling Hermione.