Enoch bit into his bottom lip, his hand on my hip pulling me closer. “I like that.”
I swallowed, biting back my smile, trying to give my cheeks a break.
“Would you still be attracted to me with short hair?”
Enoch’s brows rose and he gave me an‘are you serious?’look.
“Of fucking course. I love your hair long, but I think you’d look hot as fuck with short hair too.”
Enoch’s eyes swept over the length of my hair. I swallowed thickly, my hands automatically reaching to comb through the ends.
“You said that you had cut it a few years back, how short did you cut it?”
I looked down at my chest, moving my hands just above my breasts.
“That’s a lot. That must have been when you were still in Texas?”
My stomach clenched with dread as I thought about that day and nodded. There was a long pause, and I looked toEnoch, thinking he might have fallen asleep or something, but he seemed to be deep in thought.
His eyes met mine when I rolled back onto my side.
“What are you thinking about now?” I asked softly.
He let out a sharp exhale before grabbing my hand and holding it to his face to kiss my palm.
“I have a confession.” My heart stuttered in my chest; breath held in anticipation. Enoch held my stare as he continued. “I might have Googled your ex.”
My palms were sweating but Enoch didn’t comment on it as he held my hand in his. The reflex to clench my fist was automatic, and Enoch gently pried my fingers open.
He quickly sat up, climbing off of my bed.
“What are you doing?” I asked as he stepped into my bathroom. He flicked on the light and bent to reach beneath the bathroom sink. He returned holding up the nail clippers and a nail file.
I flicked my gaze down to my nails, realizing they were long again. I’d definitely be able to do some real damage at the length they were.
It was silent as Enoch placed a towel beneath my hands where I lay on the bed and he began clipping my nails. He was sitting cross-legged, his shirt stretching against his hunched shoulders as he leaned over, working with meticulous care.
“I guess,” he suddenly spoke, “I’m trying to figure out something.”
“What’s that?” I asked nervously.
He dropped my hand, picking up the other, and started again.
“Why you’re afraid of the bathtub.”
My stomach dropped and I stared at his hands as he picked up the nailfile.
The silence dragged on, my heartbeat far too fast for comfort. I took a deep breath, trying to expel the anxiety coursing through me.
You’re safe. He’s not here.
I repeated the mantra; the same one Sarah had me practicing when we worked on saying the words ‘I’m sorry’ today.
I took another deep breath before answering.
“It was a…ritual…I guess you could call it.”
Enoch didn’t hide the frown on his face. “A ritual?”
