A deer and headlights

She was at the front desk, bent over, rummaging through a purse filled with what looked like nail polish when they arrived at the studio.

Khaleed glanced around, taking in its modern, feminine vibe. The walls were painted in soft pastels, with framed floral artwork adding a touch of elegance. A faint, soothing scent of lavender lingered in the air, likely from the diffusers placed on sleek white counters. Shelves lined with neatly organized bottles of nail polish and skincare products gleamed under the warm glow of pendant lights. The plush chairs and glossy marble floors hinted at a space designed for indulgence—a world far removed from his usual haunts. It was intimate, inviting, and unapologetically girly—just like the woman standing behind the desk.

She was the only one there, much to my relief. And no, I don’t have stalker tendencies—it would just have been awkward to ask someone else for her, especially since I didn’t even know her name.

I couldn’t exactly say, "Good morning, I’m here to see the lady who just came in... you know, the one with plump, kissable lips." No, even Damon wouldn’t say something like that.

“Hi there,” he said in a soft but firm voice.

She didn’t respond. So, he stepped closer, knocked on the desk, then quickly stepped back—just in case she was as crazy as Damon had warned.

That got her attention.

She jumped, looking up at him like a deer caught in headlights. Then he noticed the AirPods in her ears—that’s why she hadn’t heard him.

Jasmine was listening to a BTS playlist while picking out nail polish colors for a client’s press-on nail order when he knocked

Looking up, she saw the owner of the hand. He wore a red shirt and had a baseball cap pulled low, shielding his face. How long had he been standing there?

Khaleed, realizing she didn’t recognize him, pulled off the cap. He watched her expression shift—from recognition to confusion, then finally settling into an impassive mask.

The guy from that night?

There was no way she could forget his face. But why was he here? She pulled out her AirPods to hear him better.

“Good morning,” he said, his deep, smooth voice sexy and distracting.

Maybe he’s here for a mani-pedi—men take care of their nails too, she thought. Or maybe a facial...and not the kind we offer here. The voice in her head cackled.

She shook her head, as if to stop the dirty thoughts. Woah, where did that come from?

“Good morning. How can I help you?” she asked in a polite tone reserved for customers.

Damon snickered, and that’s when she noticed him too. Also good-looking, his pretty face seemed familiar.

Khaleed turned to Damon with a raised brow, silently asking what was so funny. Damon just smirked and walked out.

I could think of a number of things you could do for me, and they’re not makeup-related, Khaleed thought, his lips curving into a smile.

“A lot of things, really. But first—” he drawled, his gaze shifting from her face to the bag of nail polish in her hands.

“Would you like to make an appointment?” Her tone was pleasant, though the impatience was hard to miss.

He chuckled at her bored tone. Her voice sounded husky, like she had just gotten out of bed after bouts of sex.

“I’m not here to make an appointment.”

“Then why are you here?” she asked with a frown, setting down the nail polish she had been gripping tightly when she noticed his glances at her hands, as if she might hurl it at him.

“We met a while back. I’m sure you remember. And it’s just my luck I saw you again today. I know you’ve got work to do, and I won’t keep you long. I’d like for us to talk—maybe over lunch sometime?” he asked with a hopeful look.

She raised an eyebrow, not quite believing what she was hearing. “If you could just give me your number, I’ll be out of your hair.”

This guy is something else, she thought. How can he just walk in here and ask for my number like it’s the studio’s social media handle?

If they had met somewhere else and not her workplace, she would have told him she wasn’t interested. That’s how she dealt with men who showed interest in her: she rejected them firmly and left no room for further attempts.

“No,” she said flatly. “Overconfident much?”

Khaleed suddenly looked contrite, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. It made him look almost boyish and cute. But she wasn’t usually swayed by good looks.

“Look, I don’t know you, and if you’re not here to make an appointment, I’ll suggest you use the door. I’ve got work to do.”

“How about I make an appointment then? What do you recommend?”

No way he was leaving without her number. And with the way she kept looking outside, he assumed she didn’t want anyone to see him here and felt guilty for taking advantage of the fact

She almost facepalmed from exasperation. “You could get a facial or a manicure. We’re fully booked today, though,” she said after checking the day’s schedule.

“That’s fine. Set it up for tomorrow. Do I need to pay upfront?”

She put in his details and bid him goodbye, but he still didn’t leave.

“Anything else?”

“Yes, your number.”

“I’ll reach out to you with the scheduled time later today. You don’t need my number for that,” she said in a low voice. Her coworkers were arriving.

Seeing that he wasn’t going to leave, and not wanting to explain to anyone why a man was in the studio so early, she sighed.

“Your phone,” she said, holding out her hand.

He handed it over, surprised. She typed in her number and gave it back.

“What’s your name?” he asked, calling the number she had entered.

She felt her phone vibrate.

He showed her his screen. “Had to be sure,” he said with a grin. “Your name, please?”

“Jasmine.”

He smiled a megawatt smile—the kind she knew probably melted girls’ panties, but not hers. She didn’t smile back.

“If that’s all...” she said, staring pointedly at the glass doors.

“Thanks. I’ll text you. Have a nice day,” he said, still smiling. Her cold tone did nothing to dampen his mood.

She nodded, watching him walk out.

“She gave you her number? What did you say to her?” Damon asked, surprised. “But you’re Khaleed Hadi—of course, she would.”

“I asked politely,” Khaleed replied with a grin. “And I’m pretty sure that’s not why she gave me her number. I don’t think she knows me.”

“Is there a girl in New York who doesn’t? I don’t think so. I’d say she’s just weird. Looks like you still got it, kiddo,” Damon joked.

“I know, bro. I know.”