Fuzz
The next morning, Sommer parked her car outside the restaurant and took a deep breath. She adjusted the rearview mirror to get one last look at her new haircut before heading inside. The harsh bob, with its brutally unforgiving angles, was still jarring. She kept reaching for her long ponytail out of habit, only to find her fingers grazing the sharp, blunt edge or the bare skin of her nape.
They’re going to say something. Just own it, she told herself, but her stomach churned with doubt.
As she stepped through the restaurant’s side entrance, a pungent mix of cleaning supplies and fryer oil assaulted her senses. The night crew had just wrapped up, leaving the floors still slick from a fresh mopping. She had a headache, and a faint queasiness bubbled in her stomach, a consequence of the bottle of wine she’d polished off before bed the night before. The chemical scent seemed to amplify her hangover, making her swallow hard against the nausea setting in.
Her coworker, Ben, who was setting up tables near the front, glanced up. His eyes widened. “Whoa,” he said, standing up straight. “You… cut your hair.”
Sommer forced a smile. “Yeah. Needed a change.”
Ben’s reaction wasn’t what she had hoped for. He tilted his head, squinting as if trying to make sense of her new look. “I mean… it’s… different. You had great hair before.”
You had great hair before. The comment hit her like a punch to the gut. She managed a weak chuckle and waved him off. “Thanks, Ben. Real confidence booster.”
Dave, a middle-aged bartender with a penchant for bad jokes, looked up from behind the bar.
“Whoa,” he said, his eyes widening. “You lose a fight with a weedwacker or something?”
Her cheeks burned as the other employees turned to look. Linda, the assistant manager, who was sitting at a nearby booth in front of a pile of receipts gasped audibly. “Oh my god, you chopped off your hair?!” she said. “What made you do that?” Sommer kept walking, as if she hadn’t heard them.
“Honestly, I liked it better long,” Dave called after her, his voice lighthearted but cutting nonetheless. Sommer had been at work less than two minutes and already this was getting old.
“Cool, Dave. I’ll file that one away for next time,” Sommer quipped back, feeling a little bad even as she said it. Despite being totally cringe, she knew that Dave was mostly harmless and didn’t deserve that. But her patience had quickly worn thin this morning and she was in no mood for his comments.
As she walked toward the back of the restaurant, she got more or less the same treatment from her other coworkers. Everyone felt the need to give their opinion, like it was any of their business what she did with her hair. A couple people told her that it looked good, but Sommer didn’t feel like they were being sincere. The weight of their judgment pressed down on her, and by the time she reached the employee bathroom, her composure was slipping. She was determined not to let anyone see her cry.
She locked herself in a stall and sat on the closed toilet lid, her face in her hands. The tears welled up in her eyes and blurred her vision as the events of last night replayed in her mind. The sound of the scissors, the buzz of the clippers, the sight of her hair pooling on the salon floor — it all felt like a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from.
Why did I do it? she thought, biting back a sob. Why did I think such a drastic change would be a good idea?
After a few minutes, she wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. She couldn’t hide in the bathroom all day. Splashing cold water on her face, she steeled herself and returned to the floor, determined to power through her shift.
By the time she emerged from the bathroom, the front doors were open and the lunch rush was already starting. Sommer threw herself into her work, hoping the activity would distract her. Around mid-afternoon, the door chimed, and in walked Josh, a regular at the bar.
Josh was one of Sommer’s favorite guests. He was good-looking and a bit older than she was, tall and lean, with dark hair and a witty sense of humor. His effortless charm and warm smile made him instantly likable, but it was his quiet confidence that Sommer found irresistible. She’d always been drawn to him, though she’d never mustered the courage to act on it.
He slid onto a stool, absently fiddling with his watch as he settled in, propping himself casually against the bar.
“Hey, Sommer, how’s it going?” he asked.
Sommer froze for a moment, her hand instinctively reaching up to twirl her hair, again becoming acutely aware of its absence. The heat rushed to her face. “Oh… hey, Josh. It’s going okay,” she said, her gaze slipping away from his.
His eyes lingered on her, and she felt her heart thudding in her chest. Finally, he tilted his head slightly and said, “You cut your hair.”
Her stomach dropped. “Yeah,” she muttered, her fingers tugging at the hem of her shirt. “It’s… a little shorter than I planned.”
He didn’t say anything right away, and Sommer braced herself for another awkward comment. But then Josh smiled again, softer this time. “You look amazing. Seriously.”
Sommer blinked, caught off guard. “Really?”
“Absolutely,” he said, his voice warm. “It’s edgy. And, uh… it shows off your face. You have great cheekbones.”
She laughed nervously, the compliment catching her completely off guard. “Thanks. I wasn’t so sure about it, honestly.”
“Well, you should be,” he said, his tone firm but kind.
Her heart skipped a beat. No one else had said anything remotely like that — not even close. She couldn’t help but smile, a real one this time, as a warmth spread through her chest. “Thanks, Josh. That means a lot.”
They chatted for a while about his day and her recent shifts, but there was an undercurrent to their conversation that hadn’t been there before. Josh seemed more animated, more engaged, and Sommer found herself relaxing in his presence. For the first time since the haircut debacle, she felt something other than regret.
As Josh was getting ready to leave, Sommer surprised herself by blurting out, “Hey, do you want to grab a drink later? After my shift?”
His eyebrows shot up, but then he grinned. “Yeah, I’d like that. Text me when you’re done, and I’ll meet you.”
**********
A few hours later, Sommer and Josh were sitting across from one another at a cozy corner table at their local dive. The tension from earlier in the day had melted away after a few beers, and Sommer found herself laughing more than she had in weeks. The chemistry between them was undeniable, and she felt a thrill every time Josh’s eyes traced over her.
It wasn’t until the bartender announced last call that they realized how late it had become. Neither of them yet ready to call it a night, Sommer proposed a nightcap at her apartment, with a mischievous glint in her eye. Josh agreed with a quick nod, his expression steady but filled with an unmistakable curiosity that matched the energy between them.
Back at Sommer’s apartment, the air between them crackled with an unspoken intensity. The slow, steady simmer of the evening was beginning to bubble over, the tension impossible to ignore. A half-empty bottle of whiskey sat on the table, its amber liquid catching the light as their laughter softened into lingering glances and teasing touches. Sommer felt a boldness stirring within her — a confidence she didn’t quite recognize but was eager to follow.
As they sat together on the couch, Josh’s fingers gently stroked Sommer’s soft, short hair, tracing over the contours of her shaved nape. It was making her whole body tingle. I could get used to this, she thought, leaning into his touch.
But then, Josh hesitated. His hand stilled, and a shadow of unease crossed his face.
“There’s something I want to tell you,” he said, his voice quieter now, and more serious.
Uh-oh. Sommer’s stomach flipped. All of this seemed too perfect and she had wondered when the other shoe would drop. She pulled back slightly, searching his expression. “What is it?”
Josh laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes darted to her hair, lingering there before dropping to his lap.
“It’s… kind of embarrassing,” he admitted, his tone awkward but earnest. “I’ve always had this thing for haircuts. Like, how they can completely change how someone looks. Short hair, dramatic transformations… I’ve always been drawn to them. It’s sort of, I don’t know, a fetish, I guess.”
Sommer blinked, caught off guard, and for a moment, she couldn’t find her voice. She wasn’t sure how to react, whether she was supposed to laugh or feel self-conscious — or something else entirely.
“Really?” she finally managed, her voice quieter now, uncertain.
Josh nodded, his expression a mixture of nervousness and vulnerability. “Yeah. I don’t want to freak you out or anything, but I thought you should know.”
“I just… when I saw you today, with your new haircut,” he continued. “I don’t know. It really hit me. I thought you looked beautiful before, but now… it’s like you’re someone else. Confident. Strong. And the change was so drastic… I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”
Sommer blinked again, still processing his words. “So you’re… turned on by my haircut?”
He nodded, his expression almost apologetic. “Yeah, and not just by the way you look. I know it’s weird, but… I’d love to hear about it. How it happened. What you were feeling… if you’d be comfortable sharing that with me.”
At first, Sommer didn’t know how to respond. But as she looked at Josh, she felt a strange mix of embarrassment and intrigue. His vulnerability was disarming, and the way he was looking at her — like she was the most captivating person in the world — made her chest flutter.
“Okay,” she said softly, picking up her glass of whiskey. “But you owe me one hell of a story in return.”
“It’s a deal,” Josh said happily.
Sommer shifted nervously on the couch, cradling her whiskey glass between her hands. The amber liquid swirled as she stared at it, gathering the courage to speak. Josh’s gaze was fixed on her, an intensity in his eyes that was both unnerving and electrifying. She took a sip, the warmth spreading through her chest, and finally set the glass down.
“Okay,” she began hesitantly, her voice quiet. “So… yesterday, I decided I wanted to cut my hair. I don’t know what came over me. I was scrolling through Instagram and saw this post — this girl with this perfect bob, so sleek and edgy, and I thought, Why not? I’ve had the same long hair forever. I wanted to do something different. I wanted to feel different.”
Josh nodded as he listened intently, his expression encouraging her to continue.
“So, I drove to this strip mall near my house, not even thinking. I didn’t go to my usual salon. I just… walked into this little place called Nadia’s Hair Studio. The sign was flickering, the place looked old and dingy, but I didn’t care. I was a little stoned and on this weird adrenaline rush, like I had to do it right then or I’d chicken out.”
Sommer paused, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “As soon as I stepped inside, I kind of regretted it. The place smelled like chemicals and cheap hairspray, and it was so quiet — no music, no chatter. Just this woman standing at the counter. Nadia.”
“What was she like?” Josh asked, his voice low, but his interest palpable.
“She was… intimidating,” Sommer admitted, a shiver running through her. “Tall, broad-shouldered, with her hair pulled back so tight it looked like it hurt. She had this thick accent, Russian or Eastern European maybe, and when I told her I wanted a haircut, she didn’t smile or ask me any questions. She just told me to sit down. It was like she was in complete control from the moment I walked in.”
Josh’s fingers tightened around his whiskey glass. “Go on,” he said, his voice soft but insistent.
Sommer exhaled. “She wrapped the cape around me so tightly I could barely move my neck, and when I told her I wanted a bob, just below my chin, she didn’t even ask for clarification. She just grabbed my ponytail — this big, thick chunk of hair I’d had for years — and sliced it off without warning.”
Josh’s eyes darkened, his breath hitching slightly, though he tried to hide it. Sommer noticed and felt a strange mixture of embarrassment and curiosity.
“She didn’t say anything,” Sommer continued. “Just held up my ponytail for a second, like it was a trophy, then tossed it onto the counter like it meant nothing. I could feel the weight of it gone immediately, and I panicked. I told her it was too short, that I didn’t mean that short, but she didn’t listen. She just kept going, snipping away like she was in a hurry to get it done.”
Sommer paused, her voice trembling as she relived the moment. “The scissors were so loud in that quiet room. Big, thick chunks of my hair were sliding down the cape, landing in my lap and all over the floor. I could see them out of the corner of my eye, these long, beautiful pieces of hair I’d taken care of for so long, just falling away. I felt… helpless.”
Josh shifted in his seat, leaning forward slightly, his expression a mix of fascination and something deeper, something primal. Sommer kept going.
“Nadia was so… dominating,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper now. “She didn’t ask for permission, didn’t care what I wanted. She just tilted my head forward and started shaving the back of my neck. The clippers were buzzing, and I could feel them vibrating against my skin. It was humiliating, knowing she was taking away everything I’d held onto for so long, and there was nothing I could do to stop her.”
Sommer glanced at Josh, her green eyes meeting his. His breathing was slightly heavier now, his fingers tapping rhythmically on his glass.
“When she finished, I didn’t even recognize myself in the mirror,” Sommer said, her voice cracking slightly. “The cut was so severe, so short. It wasn’t just a bob — it barely reached my lip in the front, and the back was shaved so high it felt like my whole neck was exposed. She didn’t apologize or even smile. She just said, ‘It suits you.’ Like it didn’t matter what I thought.”
The memory brought a lump to her throat, and she reached for her glass again, taking a long sip. “I cried, right there in the chair, but Nadia didn’t care. She just swept up my hair and tossed it away like it was garbage.”
Josh exhaled, his eyes blazing with something she couldn’t quite place. “That sounds… intense,” he said finally.
“It was,” Sommer admitted, her voice trembling.
Josh’s gaze was locked on hers, and his voice cracked when he finally spoke. “I’m really sorry that happened you and that you felt so upset, but… god, Sommer, you look amazing. And the way you’re describing it…”
He trailed off, shaking his head, clearly trying to compose himself.
Sommer’s lips parted, her heart racing. She didn’t fully understand his reaction, but the intensity of his attention made her feel strangely powerful. Vulnerable, yes — but also seen in a way she never had been before.
“Is it weird that I kind of like telling you about it?” she asked, her voice almost shy.
Josh grinned, his eyes bright. “Not weird at all.”
Their connection felt electric, and as Josh reached out to tuck a strand of her sharply cut hair behind her ear, Sommer shivered, a mix of nervousness and desire coursing through her.
“I’m off tomorrow. You want to stay the night?” she asked him, playfully.
“Absolutely.” Josh said without hesitation.
Sommer took Josh’s hand, her fingers lacing with his as she led him down the long hallway to her bedroom. Feeling in that moment as though time had slowed down, the events of the past 24 hours flashed through her mind — the humiliation and regret she’d felt at the salon, the way she’d fought back tears as her hair hit the floor, her coworkers’ insensitive comments. And yet, here she was now, the weight of that moment replaced by something entirely unexpected. What had started as a terrible experience had somehow led to this, and for the first time in a long time, Sommer felt like she was exactly where she wanted to be.
