“I’m serious. Usually you’re dyeing it the second half-a-centimeter appears.” He squints dramatically. “Honestly, this might be the longest I’ve ever seen your natural color.”
“It’s notthatbad.”
When he makes an are-you-sure-about-that expression, I huff and push at his knee with my foot where he’s sprawled beside me.
“I’ve been busy. Okay?”
A slow grin spreads across his face immediately. “Oh? Busy with what?”
Heat rises to my cheeks. “You know exactly what, dork.”
“Do I?”
“You’re literally the reason my sleep schedule is destroyed right now.”
Holden gasps dramatically. “Wow. Blaming me for your poor choices. That’s just cruel.”
“Mm. Well, my poor choices have great arms and an annoying face.” Not to mention a great dick. I can’t stop thinking about when we slept together.
Holden grins, and it does stupid things to my heart. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling anyway.
It’s been a week and a half since Holden and I talked about what’s happening, and he’s been here almost every night since, stretched across my couch like he belongs here—shirt off, sleep pants wrinkled, and one sock missing. I strangely love it, even if I miss the silence. Holden can never be without music.
Holden has always been comfortable in my apartment, but ever since we had sex, he’s been… nestled. Like, actually cozied up in my space.
Or maybe that’s the ground shifting between us. Pulling us together in ways we never were.
I try not to think about it too hard. It just makes my heart race.
Holden reaches for my hair again, gentler this time, rubbing the darker roots between his fingers. “You want me to help?”
I blink. “With what?”
“Dyeing it.”
I stare at him for a second, waiting for the punchline. “You know how to dye hair?”
He makes an are-you-kidding-me face. “My best friends are you and Hattie. What do you think?”
“Okay, but have you ever actuallydoneit?”
“Well. No,” he says confidently, “but how hard can it be?”
I snort. “That is an absolutely terrifying sentence.”
He laughs. “C’mon. I can follow instructions.”
“You once put together a bookshelf backward. You really expect me to trust you with my hair?”
“That was one time!”
“You attached the shelves upside down. The easiest part!”
“It still held books.”
Holden’s expression softens in a way I’m getting dangerously addicted to. Like making me laugh is his favorite thing in the world.
