“Your hair is already thick,” he pointed out bluntly, able to reach for the lock of hair that fell on her chest now that she wasn’t paying attention. Her hair was soft and wavy, sliding over his fingers like silk. He twirled the remaining locks around his index finger. He held out his other hand in a shrugging motion, looking like the personification of extraordinary languor, though she knew he was not. “Why wear it under your hair if not to hide something? There’s no point.”
She didn’t object to him touching her hair. An eternity of silence oppressed her. She actually enjoyed the soft tugs because they somehow managed to put her at ease. Her eyes went up to his, blue and lavender clashing with one another. Tension manifested itself in that instant, but she let herself get lost in the intensity of his eyes and the way his pupils contracted when he focused on her. The light blue hue of the moonlight made him look less intimidating than usual. She could’ve stayed in that moment the entire night without uttering a single protest, but his words caught up to her.