I almost laugh. I’d pay to see what he’s picturing when he tunes out his surroundings. “Okay, but I didn’t mean blue hair for me. I meantfor you.”
“No way.” He turns, just to grab his box of dye, but my hands drop off him. “That’s something you can shelve in thenever fucking happeningcategory.”
I lean my side on the sink. “Isn’t that the category where you placedme driving?” I give him a look. “Seems like a flexiblecategory.”
He flips me off. “It’s not.”
I watch him open the box and start to mix hair dye in a plastic bowl. Maximoff always dyes his hair himself, so the whole process isn’t new for him.
We share the mirror and the tight space in front of the sink. I plug in the bladed clippers.
Next to me, he tugs off his shirt.Damn, those abs. Maximoff throws his gray crew-neck aside.
And he suddenly asks, “You think I’m a prude?”
Maximoff.“That wasn’t even on my mind.” I remember what Kinney called him two days ago. “But I see it’s been eating at yours.”
He rubs lotion on his forehead near his hairline. Just so the dye won’t stain his skin. “I’m just thinking about how I didn’t get a piercing with my siblings, and I’m thinking about what that means. And maybe it says I don’t love them enough to get one.”
“Or it saysthat you’re not easily peer pressured, not even by your siblings.” I stare at him through the mirror. “You refused a piercing, knowing you didn’t want one—that’s hot.”
He’s smiling. And trying not to. He puts on his gloves.
I push back the top, long black strands of my hair. I’m only lightly trimming the sides. “Anyway,” I say, “I don’t think you’re a prude. But you’re definitely another ‘p’ word.” I run the blade above my ear.
“It better bephilanthropic.” Maximoff spreads dye in his hair like shampoo. In the mirror, he watches my hands more than he watches himself.
My smile widens. “Pure.”
He blinks into a glare. “I forgot that you don’t know the definition of purity.”
I run my blade over the same spot. “You can have a lot of sex and still be pure.” I’ll always see him as being genuinely good-hearted. “And if anyone disagrees with me, I don’t give a flying shit.”
His throat bobs like my words just fisted his cock. He tenses, and then slicks his hair back with dark brown dye. “You know why I’m going back to my natural color?”
“I can crack a guess, but no, I don’t know for sure.” I didn’t want to pressure him to tell me. I figured he’d open up when he was ready.
Our gazes meet through the mirror. “It felt right,” he says strongly. “I didn’t mind dyeing my hair lighter or wearing more red instead of green, but all it was doing was adding conflict in my family. So it felt right to go back.” He combs more dye through his hair. “I’ll find another way to show the world I’m proud of my dad. Just not this anymore.”
I trim the other side of my head. I’ve always believed he’s damned if he does, damned if he doesn’t, and all he can do is trust his gut instinct. He once asked what I thought, and I just said,“I’d go with the option where you’re not fighting with yourself.”
Maximoff knows who he is better than most people know themselves. If something felt wrong, he’d be the first to recognize that. And I’m happy he didn’t hesitate.
“You know I’ll stand beside whatever you do,” I say with a smile, tilting my head to run the blade further back. “Unless it’s bullshit. Then I’ll call you out and you’ll stand beside me.”
“What a turn of events,” Maximoff says, no sarcasm present, “therebelwants someone next to him.”
“Yeah. I want your smartass.” I hold his gaze. I’ve never spent this much time with anyone. Not even my last client. Not an ex or a friend, and if there were extra hours in the day, I’d choose to spend them with this guy.
Fuck, I’m hooked.
Maximoff holsters hisfuck meeyes. Just to slick his hair back one last time. He snaps off his gloves, and after tossing them in the trash, he sets a ten-minute timer on his phone. “Need help?” he asks me.
No, wolf scout.I can easily cut my hair myself, but no one has everaskedto help me either. Hell, it’s more than cute.
“Here.” I pass him the clippers, and Maximoff comes up behind me, all confidence. I look at him through the mirror. “Cut from the back of my neck upward, no higher than my ear.”
“Got it.”
