Facade of Love (Yvette Scott and Idris Young)
Chapter 252

Chapter 252 If You Need to Find Someone Else

Idris's expression froze for a second, then his movie-star handsome face twisted into a look that was half smirk, half eye roll. He met my gaze and asked, "Be with me?"

I bit my lip and stayed silent, although it was pretty clear I thought he was a pain in the neck. Mid-conversation, something seemed to click for him, and he shot a look to the side. It was at the drawer he had just opened. Without thinking, I followed his gaze and saw he was holding a hair clipper. All I had seen before were the condoms inside the drawer, obvious and untouched.

It took me a few seconds too long to get it, and then I blurted out, all flustered, "You want me to...?"

"Give me a haircut," he said, his deep eyes fixed on me, a laugh dancing in them, though he managed not to let it out. After a beat, he said, "So, Yvette, you thought my shower was all about you?" His voice dropped on the last couple of words, making them sound extra flirty.

My face felt like it was on fire, and I could not find the words to respond. Maybe he noticed my embarrassed silence because he suddenly leaned in, his dark eyes narrowing, his lips almost brushing against my cheek as he said in a raspy voice, "If you're into it, I wouldn't say no to being with you...'

"Idris," I leaned back, looking at him, my voice steady but tense, "if that's what you're after, go find someone else."

I blurted out the words without a second thought, and by the time I realized what I had said, Idris's face had turned stormy. He sat up straight, avoiding my gaze, and his eerily calm voice sent à shiver down my spine.

The heavy silence that followed was like a weight on my chest, although he did not say a word.

I knew I had spoken without thinking, and guilt gnawed at me. I glanced at him and stammered, "I... I didn't mean it like that." Upon noticing the hair clippers in his hand, I blurted out, "How about I give you a haircut?"

I was just trying to lighten the mood, but I had totally forgotten one tiny detail-I had never given anyone a haircut before.

He did not seem to mind and just handed me the clippers before sitting down in front of the vanity mirror, his tall frame casting a long shadow.

With the clippers in hand, I was freaking out inside. I wanted to back out, but I had already offered, and backing out now would be weird.

I took a deep breath, braced myself, and went for it.

I figured that if I botched it, it was not my head on the line. After all, he was the one who let me do this.

That thought made me feel a whole lot better. I moved behind him, paused for a second, and then asked, "Do you want it all off? Won't Grandma get suspicious if

bald?"

you

show up

"Just do what you think is best," he said, not giving me any direction.

2/2

I hit my lip, at a loss for words.

The fire had only singed the hair on his forehead without burning the scalp, so a bald shave

Was not no crew cut might just work.

with that plan in mind, I started with the clippers. Initially, I was cautious, but when I got the hang of it and before I knew it, I was on a roll.

Fifteen minutes later, I put the clippers down and checked out our handiwork in the mirror. His hair was gone, but he still looked as sharp as ever. "All done,” I announced. Idris must have been prepared for whatever I would do because he had not really been watching. However, at the sound of my voice, he finally looked up to see his new 'do. He gave me a quick once-over, arching an eyebrow before delivering his verdict with just two words, "Looks fine."

That was his version of a compliment.

I knew I was not a pro, but his words were a relief. "If you don't like it, just wear a hat when you go out. It'll grow back before you know it," I said.-

He got to his feet, smoothing out his shirt, and challenged me, "What's the matter? Not feeling confident about your handiwork?"

I bit my lip, not in the mood for banter, and set the clippers down, ready to head downstairs.

"Yvette, come here for a second," he called out, stopping me in

I turned, puzzled. "What's up?

He pulled at his shirt collar. "Check the back for me, will you?"

my

y tracks.

Then, without any fuss, he hiked his robe up to his waist. The sight of his broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, all muscle and sinew, was admittedly a treat for the eyes. I caught a glimpse and felt my cheeks warm up, still confused. "What's the problem?"

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