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I open the door and stare at him, not saying anything, just letting him take it in.
“Wow.” His eyebrows rise and he gives me a soft smile. “You cut it all off.”
“I did.”
He reaches forward and touches it with his fingers. “It looks nice. I liked it long, but this is just as good.”
“Thanks,” I say, feeling shy. An uneasy feeling niggles at me, and I wish we could go back to cracking jokes at each other like the first night, wish we could go back to the easy and comforting feeling I felt on our date, and after our date, and every minute in between—but we can’t. No matter how I feel, he’s made it pretty clear that I shouldn’t expect anything from him.
“Hopefully when I get back to my life, guys won’t find the new hair too manly.” I chuckle then move past him out into the hallway to head to the dining room. “You comin’?”
He hesitates for a minute then smiles, following my lead, and I try to convince myself that I can date other guys after this whole damn thing. Maybe next time he won’t be a secret spy with bad guys in hot pursuit.
My smile falls at the thought. That would make my life easier, safer, and yet I feel like I would be losing something important.
