Page 90 of Oh, Flutz!

“Yeah, you never do.” He looks back over at me, and I can see the anger fall from his face. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s just…hard to explain.”

“I shouldn’t have stuck my nose in. I’m sorry, too.” I’m thinking that’s the end of the conversation, but then Bryan huffs.

“God, it just pisses me off. You’re right, you know? I shouldn’t feel so damn guilty. It is my responsibility, though. I guess I just wish they’d say thank you every once in a while.” He glances at me, smiling.

“Kinda dumb, huh?”

Something inside me twists. “It’s not dumb.”

“A little bit. Like, my dad can’t walk, my mom works two jobs. Plus, they’re my family, you know? They shouldn’t have to worry about thanking me.”

They don’t, is what I want to say.They don’t, and it makes me angrier than you could imagine.“You’re not asking for payment, Bryan.”

He shrugs. “I don’t even really know what I’m asking for.”

I reach out and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing, and he sighs again. “Seriously. It’s pretty pathetic that you’re the first person to say I’m a good son, right? Like, that’s kind of messed up.”

I force myself not to say anything, not to shake him and yell,thank you, finally!But I don’t.“They’ve really never…”

“No.” He cracks a grin, or tries to, because he just looks so impossibly sad that it makes my chest ache. “Stupid of me to still hope, right?”

“It’s not stupid.” I’m finding it a little hard to swallow right now. “You’re a good person, Bryan, I—I hope you know that.”

The tiniest furrow appears between his brows before he offers a slightly confused smile. “Thanks. I think.”

We’re both silent.

“Why do you dye your hair?” he asks out of absolutely nowhere, and I let out a shocked laugh.

“What?”

He reaches a hand out, lightly brushing my hairline. “Your roots were showing before.”

I don’t have to ask what he’s talking about. Something reminds me that I shouldn’t be opening up, that I should pretend like that night never happened, and that he never saw me like that. So vulnerable. Soweak.

But I suppose it’s my turn to open up, and besides, he looks so genuinely curious that I can’t help it. “My hair was red when I was a baby. But it went a lot lighter as I got older, so…I’m naturally blonde.”

He mulls this information over. “You don’t seem like a blonde.”

Probably because he’s only used to seeing me like this, but I cross my arms anyway. “What does that mean?”

“Just that the red fits.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “Because I have a temper shorter than I am?” I ask, pointedly reminding him of when he told me those exact words.

He just grins. “Exactly. Now you’re learning.”

Mudak.

“So why’d you start dying it?”

I shrug. “When I started getting more attention a few years ago, my coaches thought it would be good for my image to look bolder. The red was to make me look aggressive or strong. I don’t know.”

Some stupid marketing thing. I didn’t bother questioning it. It worked, and it wasn’t like it was far off from what my hair color used to be, anyway—not that it had ever made sense for me to be a redhead as a child, unless my father was ginger. I wouldn’t know.

Bryan quirks his lips. “I don’t think you need hair dye for that.”

“Ha, ha.” I touch a hand to where his had just been, frowning. “I should get it redone. It looks bad now.”

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