𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑

𝟐𝟎

She remembers my fucking favorite color? Maybe it doesn't seem like a big deal, but the fact that everything I say doesn't go into one of her ears and our the other has to make her ten times more attractive than she was five minutes ago.

If I knew she could make me this happy with just a few measly words, I would have been on my knees worshipping her the second I met her.

...Compared to asking if she was a child.

Summer runs her finger through hair like she's brushing it.

"I don't think I'm going to dye my hair anymore." She says.

I turn to look at her hair before turning back toward the road. It's still dyed the same burgundy color it's been since we met. Her roots are showing a little now, but evidence in our bathroom can prove that she has dyed it a few times rather recently.

"What color is your hair?"

"Blonde." She tells me, twirling a piece of hair around her finger.

"Really? I figured it was brown. Your eyebrows are kind of dark."

"Nope. Very much a blondey."

I snort. "Oh, God. I think we just found another nickname."

She laughs, covering her face with her hands. Once she's done being embarrassed in advanced of torture I don't plan to follow through with, she says:

"I dye my eyebrows. But I think I'm going to stop dying them once this color is gone. Maybe take scissors to my hair, too."

"Why do you want to cut your hair?"

She shrugs. "Dunno. Just seems right since I'm going to bid farewell to this color. Why? Do you think it would look bad?"

"You couldn't look bad if you wanted to, Summer." I tell her in hopes of earning a smile. I get a shy one and a mumbled thank you. "I guess I can't imagine you with shorter hair."

"So do you like my hair how it is now? I'll keep it like this for the rest of our lives if you want." It's a joke and the sarcasm is much unappreciated.

Narrowing my eyes at her only has her laughing like she's just done the funniest thing. And I can't help when I start laughing a little.

"You're so fucking annoying." I laugh and she only shrugs, shaking her head.  It's like she's saying: "Yeah, but you love it."

And that's funny because right as I think that, she says those very words.

I roll my eyes. "Whatever." Then I point  finger at her. "And I'd like you if you had hair like Rapunzel just the same if you had hair like Humpty Dumpty."

Now she's laughing again. What's different than when she was laughing a minute ago is we're in the Sephora parking lot and she smacks my bicep this time around.

I tell her not to look up, and surprisingly, she obeys and covers her pretty eyes.

I walk around the front of the car once I get out, eyes on her. Luckily she doesn't peek. I help her out of the car, and when her feet are on the pavement, I cover her hands over her eyes with my own.

She yelps when I tell her to step up onto the sidewalk and she almost trips.

"Noah! You're going to kill me!" She laughs, covering my hands with hers now. She's trying to pull my hands away, but I don't budge.

"Just hold on a second, all right? You're too valuable to kill. Trust me?"

"Not at all."

"Good."