Page 18 of Last Light

I focus on combing my wet hair instead.

“The soap is gone.”

I turn back without thinking at his words. To my relief—disappointment?—he’s already pulled his jeans back on and is towel-drying his hair.

“That’s okay. Maybe we can find more soap at a house or something.” I’ve gotten the tangles out of my hair but haven’t braided it yet. I can see Travis slanting looks at it, as if something about it surprises him. “I’m going to rinse out my shirt. Do you want me to rinse out yours too?”

He blinks like he doesn’t understand what I’m asking.

“Travis?”

“What? Oh. Yeah. Sure. Thanks.” He’s still rubbing the towel through his hair. He’s been doing that for a long time now.

I pick up my shirt and then snag his along the way to the creek, where I get them both wet and try to scrub out some of the dirt and sweat.

Both are in bad shape, but there’s nothing we can do. Neither one of us has a spare set of clothes.

When I’m through cleaning the shirts, I turn around to discover that Travis is seated on my rock near the fire, shaving with a straight-edge razor.

“You can do that without a mirror?” I ask him, genuinely curious.

“If I’m careful.”

I watch with interest. “Do you have a pair of scissors? You should trim your hair while you’re in the grooming mood.”

His lip curls up. “No. Don’t have scissors. But if you wanna groom, you should let me chop off that mess of hair with my knife.”

I gasp and raise a hand to my hair. “Why should I cut it?”

“Too much of it. If someone comes after you, you’re giving them somethin’ real easy to grab on to.”

I part my hair in the middle and start braiding. “I’m not going to cut my hair because of that. If someone is able to grab me, they’ll get me whether I have long hair or not.”

He shrugs and drags the razor over the last few lines of his jaw. He hasn’t nicked himself yet, even without any shaving cream.

It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid. But it bothers me that he wants to cut my hair.

I like my hair. I’ve had it long all my life. Everyone has always said it’s really pretty.

My boobs and my hair. Those are the only things I really have going for me in the looks department.

Travis called it a mess of hair.

I finish making my braids. My panties are mostly dry now, so I stand up and walk over to where I left my jeans. I drop my towel, and before Travis can make more than a guttural sound of objection, I pull my jeans up over my legs.

I’m going to sleep in my jeans and tank like I did last night.

Our shirts are drying near the fire. Nothing but dark and silence surrounds us. And it doesn’t matter even the slightest that Travis wants to cut my hair.

He wipes his face with his damp towel. “Did I get it all?”

I come closer as he lifts his chin to show me his newly shaven jaw.

He’s better-looking than I originally thought. I realize that as I peer at his face. Yesterday I thought his eyes were steel gray, but they’re a blue gray that shifts with the changing light. I like the strong line of his jaw and the chiseled contour of his cheekbones.

He’s not wearing a shirt, and I like that too.

I’m close to him now. Despite having just cleaned up, I can still catch a faint whiff of Travis’s scent. It’s familiar to me even after just two days.

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