With Zella's encouragement, I reached out to the head of the Computer Technologies Department and explained my skill set and asked for help putting on that proverbial white hat. Together, we created a career path and were able to map out my last three semesters of course work. Once I graduate, I'm going to look into becoming an Information Security Analyst. Professor Evans, the department head, said there are companies out there that hire hackers to bring down their systems only to show them how to build up their security. It sounds right up my alley.
I'm excited to have a chance to work with kids and teens and help them learn to code and Internet safety. We have our first run at the camp during spring break in a few weeks, and if it goes well, it could be a summer program.
Sitting at a small table in the corner of the shop, I set up my laptop and pull up a study guide for an ethics class. Not sure why everyone who finds out about me being in an ethics class thinks it's a good idea. I'm not some petty thief.
I get lost in my reading and highlighting when my phone buzzes. I pull it out of my pocket and swipe open the text from Wells.
Wells: We still on for a double date tonight? Louisa says they want to go bowling. You know anything about this?
Me: Yeah, it's on Zella's list. You ready to be beat by girls, man?
Wells: Shit. You know I hate bowling.
I chuckle because the dude sucks at bowling. Wells and I have gotten along a lot better these days. He still walks the straight and narrow, but we agree to disagree, and that's okay. We actually enjoy being around each other again. I gotta say, I missed the guy.
Louisa and Zella have become pretty close. Cameron likes to whine that she's replaced him as her best friend. Zella laughs, tells Cameron that's never going to happen, and that seems to satisfy him. Though, when she's not looking, I make it a point to let him know I'm her number one. It's fun fucking with him. He's a good guy, and we tolerate each other more often than not.
I'm a little early, but I can't focus on this ethics shit, it's enough for one day. So I pack up my stuff and head back to the salon. About twenty minutes later, there's a tiny tap on the window. My head snaps up, and I look out my window.
I'm stunned to silence. A beautiful, tiny pixie stands next to my door with a huge smile on her face. I take her in— her green eyes, freckled nose, her kissable pink lips. Finally, to the bouncy, short, softly curled blonde hair.
I roll down my window, a smile plastered on my face. "Hey there, little lady. I've got a girlfriend, but what she doesn't know won't hurt her."
"Ryker, you're a handful." She giggles and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
I reach out and run my hand through her light locks. Soft pinks and purple hues randomly streak through her beach blonde hair.
"It's incredibly fitting." I can't pull my eyes from how it looks flowing through my fingers.
"I know, it's everything I never knew I wanted," she sings.
"How much did they cut off? How do you feel?" I wonder how much she'll love having so much less hair now.
"Twelve inches. And I feel about ten pounds lighter."
I fight from showing the surprise on my face at how much they cut. Her hair is still past her shoulders; anyone who'd never seen her before would consider her hair long.
"Well, think of how much longer your shampoo will last," I say. I want to say, think of how much less hair you'll leave behind. Look, I know girls shed, but Zella, her hair was so long, one strand looked like ten.
More giggles come from my girl, and I thread my hand through her hair one more time before moving it to the back of her head. I pull her into me and kiss her. Her own hand reaches up and cups my cheek. She emits a little moan. I pull back and smile, our noses still touching. "You should hop in, Blondie. I don't want my girlfriend to see me with such a knockout."
This earns me a playful eye roll, but she moves around the car and gets in the passenger side.
"I need to send a picture to Anna," she says, pulling her phone out of her purse.
As I drive away, she takes a selfie. She and Anna talk nearly every day. We flew out to visit them over Christmas break and spent a full week with them. Zella wanted to drive, so she could catch up with her friends at The Cuddle Duck, but I suggested that would be a better trip come summer. Fred and Anna have been wonderful, and the more I get to know them, the more I know I did the right thing helping them come together.
Zella hasn't been able to completely cut ties with her adoptive mother, but their relationship is rocky at best. They email on occasion and hardly ever talk on the phone. Zella hasn't seen her mother and has no plans to do so any time soon. When Zella told her she’d met her birth parents, she really laid on the guilt. I’m proud of my girl, though, she stayed strong and didn’t waver on feeling bad about her new relationship with Fred and Anna. I know it's hard for Zella, and sometimes, I hear her cry. It's hard for her to separate the woman who raised her from the woman who hid such a huge part of who Zella is with all her controlling and boarder line emotionally abusive nature. It was all lies, and she was so strict that it's hard for Zella not to resent her.
I have confidence that she'll be able to work through it. As long as I'm by her side, I'll help her through anything. This girl is my world, and I've made it my mission to make sure she has a happy and fulfilled life.
"So, Blondie, I hear we are bowling tonight." I glance at her in the seat next to me.
She claps her hands together. "Yes, I'm so excited. Louisa tells me Wells isn't happy."
"That's because Wells is a horrible bowler. An eight-year-old could beat him." I chuckle. I'm pretty sure an eight-year-old did beat him last time we played.
"Well, I'm just happy to mark one more thing off my list." She digs around her bag for a tiny leather journal. It's the size of her smartphone. She flips it open and finds the page she is looking for and crosses out a line with a purple pen.
I peek over at her list and can't help smiling. I bought her the journal for Christmas, and she's been filling it up with all the things she wants to do and experience. The list has grown so much over the past months. It's almost a game to see how many items we can cross off each week. Some weeks nothing is crossed off, other weeks, two or three. I've even added a few items.
"Got anything new on your list? Chopping your hair off was a pretty big one, only seems fitting to have a new one," I added something just last night, I'm not sure she's seen it yet. I smirk to myself.
She thumbs through the pages until she stops and lifts the journal up closer to her face to read what's written on the page. A tiny gasp escapes, and I bite back a laugh.
I pull my eyes from the road briefly, finding her cheeks pink with a blush. "Ryker," she whispers.
"Blondie," I return.
"I'm not sure I'd be any good at that." She snaps the book shut and shoves it in her bag. She doesn't say anything for a few moments.
My smile is huge. I can't keep it from my fucking face. "You're thinking about it now, aren't you?"
She looks out her window, evading my words.
"You're picturing how we'd line it up, aren't you?" she squeaks. "You dirty bird, you. I love it." I laugh, and she turns and smacks me in the arm.