Page 24 of Love Rewritten

I explain the process and hand him a pair of gloves before he dips the brush into the hair dye and starts at the nape of my neck like I instructed.

He pulls at the neckline of my shirt with his fingers. “You’re not wearing something I should be scared of getting this on, right? Because I can’t promise your shirt will be clean once I’m done.”

“No. This is my designated hair-dying shirt. Why do you think there are so many colors on the shoulders?” I chuckle but force myself to stop when I remember he has a wand of black dye in his hand. I may not care about the clothing, but it does stain the skin for a day or two.

“Just making sure.” He goes silent as I watch his movements in the mirror, his mouth falling into a flat line, and he squints his eyes ever so slightly as he focuses on his strokes. He’s cute when he does this. I only ever see him this focused when he’s listening intently to someone or something. It’s how I know he’s truly invested in something.

Sam used to help me dye my hair, even if reluctantly. He never focused this hard on how it looked. I stopped asking after a while because he would just slap the color on and hope it turned out okay rather than listening to my instructions and letting me part the hair for him.

But Dallas, he’s coating every strand as if this is the only thing that matters in the world right now. He dips the brush again while I separate a new section, and he gets right back to work.

“Have you done this before?”

“Never. Am I doing it wrong?” He pulls the brush away from my hair and peeks around my head to see me.

“Not at all. Quite the opposite, actually. I’m impressed.”

He smiles and resumes the hair dying. Once the back of my head is finished, I plop all my coated hair into a bun at the top of my head and cover it in a shower cap.

“Wow. Nowthatis a look.” He grins and leans against the door frame.

I roll my eyes. “Get used to it. I’ll be dying my hair black until the day I die.” He chuckles and starts to leave. “Wait, don’t go far. I may want your help washing it out, too.”

He peeks toward the living room where Logan sits and then re-enters the bathroom. He shoots me a devilish eye and lowers his voice. “Does that mean we get to shower together?” He holds my hips tight against his.

I look up and narrow my eyes. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I would indeed.”

I stare at him a moment, holding his eager gaze, and then slink out of his grasp. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and sighs. “Nice try, but no. I’ll just dip my head over the edge and pull down the extension. It’ll keep the black from getting all over the walls and curtain.”

He thinks for a moment. “I hate it when you’re right.”

I hold my hand to my ear and say, “What was that? Did I just hear that right?”

He drops his head back with a laugh. “Okay, smartass. Don’t push your luck.” He pecks me on the lips and disappears out of the bathroom before I can respond.

Chapter 10

Dallas

“Openit,”Isay.Abby looks at me confused when I hand her a very badly wrapped box about double the size of a shoe box.

I’ve never been a big gift-giver. I’m more of an act-of-service kind of person. The night of Abby’s birthday, I apologized for not having a gift for her. She had told me that she wasn’t big on gifts either. Giving or receiving. She’d said she cared about quality time with people more than anything. But I couldn’t help myself on this one. It fell right into my lap, and there was no way I could pass up the opportunity to see her in a gorgeous dress, and then likely get the chance to take it off her later that night. The thought makes my blood rush south.

“My birthday was weeks ago.” She holds the box with so much hesitation that I wonder if she’ll actually open it or just set it back down and walk away.

“It’s not a birthday present. Just open it.”

She eyes me curiously again but sighs and sets it down on the kitchen table to rip off the paper. The box is black. The top separates from the bottom but is tied to the base with a black sparkly ribbon. The store associate thankfully did that part for me when I bought it, otherwise it would be a knot she's trying to unravel instead of a pretty bow. She pulls at the bow to release it and lifts the top off. Her brows knit together but she pulls the fabric out of the box and watches it unfold before her. Her mouth drops open when she realizes what it is.

“You got me the dress?” A smile slowly forms until her eyes crinkle at the edges. “How? Why?” She pauses to examine the dress. “When?” she adds.

I rub my jaw as if contemplating my answers. “How? I bought it with this thing called money. Why? Because I wanted to. When? The day after we played Truth or Drink. I picked it up on my way home from the gym.”

She checks the price tag again and gawks at me. “Why?”

“I already answered that.”

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