Page 27 of Styx & Stones

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad you catfished me into being your friend.”

His answering smile is slow, but man, does it pack a punch. My stomach dips like it’s on a Tilt-A-Whirl. “Right, that’s it. I’m coming over.”

“What?” I frown at my screen. “No. I want to sleep.”

“Fine, set your alarm for two hours. We’ll nap, and then we’re gonna take care of our hair.”

“You’re sounding an awful lot like Jonathan from the Fab Five. Should we get manis and pedis too?”

“I’m sensing judgement from you, Stones.”

“Um ... Johnathon is my hero, and I never say no to a pedi. Promise you won’t skimp on the foot rub?”

***

My heart pounds asStyx’s warm breath skates across the back of my neck. “You ready?”

I let out a shaky exhalation, fighting back tears. “Yeah.”

“You’re sure?”

“Oh my God, just get it over with.”

“Okay, okay. I’m gonna do it.”

The cool slide of the plastic guard grazes my scalp, and I bat his hand away and take the clippers from him. “You’re taking too long.”

I flick the switch on the device and swipe it along the side of my head. My mouth widens in horror as my hair falls away from the clippers. The buzz in my ear is deafening. It’s too intense, too much.It’s only hair, my brain supplies.And now everyone will know I have cancer.

“You look badass,” Styx says appreciatively eyeing my side-shave. I sob and set down the clippers, fat tears falling from my cheeks and wetting my toes. “Hey, come here.”

He wraps me in his arms, and I sob into his chest. “I’m such an idiot. It’s just hair.”

“It’s not just hair,” he says, the words rumbling through his ribcage as my ear is pressed tight to his chest. “It’s your hair. You’re allowed to be attached to it. Besides, we can’t all be expecting to rock our chemo cut.”

He reaches up and takes the knit cap off his head, revealing one hell of a combover. It’s made even more ridiculous by his long locks. I burst out laughing and cover my mouth.

“Told ya it was really something.”

“Oh my God.” With one hand still hovering in front of my mouth to hide my laughter—albeit not successfully—I reach up and finger his strands.

“Feel better about your new ’do?”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “I hate to say it, but I really do.”

He grins. “Wanna shave my head for me? You know, so I don’t look like an eighty-year-old, even though I may feel it.”

“Fucking cancer.”

Styx picks up the clippers and places them in my hand, his eyes bright with challenge. “Fuck cancer.”

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