The bell above the nail salon door jingled as you walked in, the smell of nail polish and acetone filling the air. You glanced around the room, noticing the pastel-colored walls and rows of neatly displayed nail polish bottles. It was late in the afternoon, and only a few clients were scattered around, each engrossed in their own treatments.

You had an important job interview tomorrow and needed a fresh, professional nail set to make the perfect impression. Approaching the receptionist, you explained what you needed.

“Lucky timing,” she said with a smile. “We’ve got an opening with Simon. He’s one of our best.”

“Perfect,” you replied, though you hadn’t expected much. A nail tech was a nail tech, right?

Moments later, a tall, broad-shouldered man walked up to you, his apron tied casually over a fitted black t-shirt. His dark eyes were sharp, but there was a playful glint in them, and he had a slight Manchester accent that immediately caught your attention.

“You’re my client?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he gestured toward an empty station.

“Yes,” you replied, trying not to stare. “Just a simple set for an interview.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable as he motioned for you to sit down. Once you settled into the chair, he rolled up his sleeves, revealing forearms covered in tattoos. You caught yourself staring and quickly looked away.

“What kind of look are you going for?” he asked, pulling out a tray of tools and bottles.