Shad tossed the towel onto the counter near the sink and ran his eyes down my frame. He swiped his lips with his tongue before pivoting and dipping his head under the water. The position stretched his tattoo-covered back, the muscles in his shoulders and arms flexed as he braced himself on the counter. I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the fluttering in my chest and stomach…and maybe in my heart, too, and got to work.
I wet Shad’s hair thoroughly, the water darkening the tight coils. His hair was beautiful. As I worked the shampoo into a lather, my fingers massaging his scalp, Shad let out a low, appreciative groan.
“Fuuuuck, this is almost as good as your pussy, girl.”
“Just be quiet,” I muttered with a huge smile on my face.
“You got hands like a masseuse, Daee,” he continued.
I rinsed the suds out, and the water ran milky down the drain. Next, I squeezed a generous amount of conditioner into my palm and worked it through his hair. My fingers detangled the few snarls that had formed. Shad was quiet now, his body relaxed, completely surrendering under my touch. I grabbed the comb and began to use it to detangle while his hair was drenched in conditioner.
Once I was done, I rinsed the conditioner out, turned the water off, and grabbed the towel to gently pat his hair dry.
“Okay,” I said, nibbling on my lip. “Go sit in the living room so I can braid you up. Do you have any other hair products?”
Shad motioned down the hall with his head as we left the kitchen. “In the bathroom. Get what you need. I’m finna roll up real quick.”
I took off toward his bathroom while he sauntered to the living room. I found what I needed and then headed back to where he was. Shad had dragged his beanbag against the couch, settled on the floor, and was gutting the cigar.
I sat behind Shad on the couch, my knees bracketing his shoulders. He turned and placed a kiss on my thigh.
“Shaaad,” I whined. “Stop doing shit like that.”
“Like what?” he questioned without turning to look at me.
“Like this shit is more,” I honestly expressed. “It’s only gonna make it hard for me to leave.”
There. I said it. I let my real feelings out.
I waited a moment for him to respond…but he didn’t. Shad continued to roll his blunt. The new silence in the room was uncomfortable…to me. I picked up the comb and the small bottle of leave-in conditioner. I evenly massaged it into his hair and then began to section his hair for the first plait to his scalp.
Shad smoked while I worked my magic. His head was heavy in my lap, a solid warm weight. My fingers worked methodically, weaving the three strands of his hair over and under, over and under.
About halfway through, his hand came to rest on my calf, his thumb stroking it.
“You good at this. You damn near put me to sleep,” he murmured. “You make a nigga wanna keep you around.”
My heart stuttered. I wanted to stay. I wanted to keep braiding his hair, to feel his hands on me, to wake up to the scent of his weed in the morning.
I finished the last braid and tied them all together at the ends as he had before. I ran my hands over his head, admiring my work. The braids were neat and tight, a perfect grid against his scalp.
“All done,” I whispered.
Shad turned his head, his cheek brushing my thigh, the hair tickling me. He peered up at me, his eyes red and low, but I saw the softness in them. Shad reached up and cupped the back of my neck, pulling me down toward him.
“C’mere,” he commanded, his voice a low rumble.
I don’t know why my body turns into a puddle when he demands something, but it does. I’m like putty in his hands. I leaned in, and Shad kissed me. It wasn’t a hungry kiss like he always kissed me. It was slow and deep. His lips moved against mine with a certainty that stole my breath. When Shad finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against mine.
“I think the snow is finally melting,” he released.
My whole body went rigid. The warmth from the kiss, the softness in his eyes…it all vanished, replaced by a sudden, chilling cold. His words just hung in the air for a moment. It was like a damn deadline.
“Before my phone died, I saw it on the weather app,” he continued. “You can go home soon. Hopefully, you can still celebrate Christmas ‘fore the day over.”
Home. That word was like a bitter pill. I missed it, but as soon as I walk out that door, I think I’ll miss Shad too.
I offered a small, fake smile. “Yeah. I can’t wait.” I lifted a leg over his head, stood, grabbing the hair products I had used to put them back in his bathroom.
