Cross My Heart (A Contemporary Romance Novel)

clothing stores.
    Claire went straight to the teen section and pulled a low cut top and a micro mini skirt off the rack. “This is so hot. Do you mind if I try this on, Jenna?”
    “Not at all,” she said, even though she privately thought the look was way too old for a fourteen year old girl. But she’d decided at the beginning of this trip that she wouldn’t express any opinions that sounded like judgments—she remembered how well that had gone over with her when she was Claire’s age. So she went with her into the dressing room and sat down on one of the cushioned benches in the waiting area.
    Yep, too old, she thought as the slender girl came out of her booth and twirled around in front of her. She didn’t have much cleavage, but the little she had was on full display. The top also left her stomach bare, and the mini skirt barely reached the tops of her thighs.
    “What do you think?” Claire asked. “I know you’ll tell me the truth, Jenna.”
    Jenna had opened her mouth to say something neutral, but Claire’s comment pulled her up short. She looked at the girl’s eager, smiling face.
    “Do you really want to know what I think?”
    “Of course!”
    “Even if it comes out like a lecture?”
    Instead of getting mad, Claire grinned at her. “It’s okay. I can take it. You think it’s too sexy, right?”
    Jenna made room for her on the bench. “I just think that particular brand of sexy isn’t a woman’s best weapon, and it’s definitely not her only one. If you reduce yourself to that, then that’s what people will see. They won’t notice anything else about you.”
    “You always look sexy, though,” Claire said. “Not slutty or anything,” she added quickly. “I mean, I usually see you in jeans and tee shirts.”
    Jenna smiled. “That’s what I’m talking about. I don’t dress sexy very often—only on special occasions, and only when it’ll make me happy. But I’m comfortable with myself, and that always comes across as sexy. Real sexy, not the kind you can buy in a store.”
    “Oh.”
    Claire stood up and looked at herself in the mirror. After a minute she went back into the booth and came out in her jeans and Radiohead tee shirt.
    “Where should we go now?” she asked.
    Jenna smiled and got to her feet. “Anywhere you want. Are you hungry?”
    Claire shook her head as the two of them made their way towards the exit. “Not yet. I know those clothes were skanky, but I really do want to do something to change my look. I’ve been thinking seriously about a tattoo, but I know my dad would freak.”
    Jenna thought so, too. “How about a haircut? Something more...modern-looking,” she added diplomatically, eyeing Claire’s long, stringy blonde hair.
    Claire brightened. “That’s a great idea. I’ve been thinking about that, too, but I wasn’t sure what kind of style to go for. But if you’ll go with me...maybe give me some suggestions...”
    Jenna stopped walking and looked down at her. “Actually, I do have a couple of ideas. If you’re not afraid to try something daring?”
    Claire’s eyes glowed. “I’d love that. Seriously. Where should we go?”
    Jenna checked her watch. “I know a great salon, but it’s in Des Moines.” Inspiration struck. “We could get your hair cut and then stop by the clinic on the way home, to show your dad. We could bring him some dinner, too. Unless you think we’d be bothering him?”
    Claire shook her head vigorously. “No, I’m sure it would be okay. That’s a great idea. Let’s go!”
    And so they drove into the city to a salon that catered to a young crowd. They consulted with a stylist for several minutes before the woman put a big apron on Claire and took her over to the sink to wash her hair.
    Forty-five minutes later the transformation was complete. Jenna and Claire stood in front of the big mirror, admiring the result.
    Gone was the long, limp hair hanging in her eyes. Now she had spiky layers, their feathered ends framing her face and setting off the delicate lines of her jaw and cheekbones. Her neck was bare, and she was holding her head with more pride, more confidence. Her posture was better, too. She stood straight, not slouching forward with a piece of hair twisted around her finger.
    Just for fun the stylist had added a few blue streaks with a washable rinse, giving her a hint of a punk look that would wash out in her next shower.
    “Let’s go show Dad!” Claire said, excitement in her eyes. “I saw a