Her body pressed against mine, warm and soft through the thin fabric of my costume shirt. I kept my hands carefully on her upper back, acutely aware that we had an audience.
When Harlow finally released me, her cheeks were pink.
"Okay!" She clapped. "Now we need to do your hair!"
"What's wrong with my hair?"
"Nothing! But it needs styling! Vampires have dramatic hair!"
"My hair is fine."
"It's adequate," Vivienne said. "Which means it has room for improvement."
I sat in the folding chair they'd set up, accepting my fate. Harlow circled me like a shark, examining my two-toned blonde and dark roots from every angle.
"We could gel it back," she mused. "Very classic vampire. Or messy and windswept! Like you just fed on someone!"
"Please don't phrase it like that."
"Or!" She gasped. "We could add temporary color! I have spray-on red dye!"
"Absolutely not."
"But it would match my highlights!"
"Still no."
