She circles around again and stops in front of me.
“Hold on,” she says, tugging lightly at the sides.
Then she steps between my knees.
I go rigid.
She tips my chin up with her fingers. “Look straight ahead.”
I do—though that puts my eyes level with her tits, which is its own problem.
For a second, my brain stalls, not entirely sure where “straight ahead” is supposed to be when she’s standing this close.
My attention dips before I can stop it. I drag it back up just as quickly.
She doesn’t notice because she’s focused. Thank fuck.
Her fingers comb through the front of my hair, lifting a section as she studies it, brow slightly furrowed. The scissors hover, then lower again as she rethinks it.
“Hmm.”
Her knee brushes mine as she leans in closer. The space between us shrinks, and it feels a lot smaller than it should.
Charlotte squints, tilting my head with a light touch of her fingers.
“Stay still.”
“I’m not moving.”
“You’re thinking.”
I blink up at her. “What?”
She smiles, still focused on the section of hair between her fingers. “You get this look when you’re overthinking.”
The scissors snip, and a lock of hair falls past my shoulder. I barely register it. Because now she’sright there. Closer than before.
She dips slightly to check the line, bringing her even nearer. For a second, the scissors hang loose in her hand while she studies her work.
And suddenly we’re face-to-face, close enough that I feel her breath when she exhales.
My eyes lift—straight to hers.
I’ve seen Charlotte’s eyes nearly my whole life. Just never like this. Not from inches away. Not with nothing between us.
Up close, they’re not one color. Green and brown, layered together, with flecks of gold that catch the light when she moves. And there’s a darker ring around the edge.
I’ve never let myself notice that before.
Her focus stays on my hair for a second longer. Then her gaze flicks up, meeting mine.
Everything else falls quiet. The wind, the waves, the constant hum of the island—it all fades into the background.
Neither of us moves, and the moment stretches longer than it should. Too long.
Something shifts. It’s subtle and hard to name. And before I can stop it, my gaze drops from her eyes to her mouth.
Charlotte’s lips part as she concentrates. I’ve seen her mouth countless times, but I’ve never paid attention to it like this.
