Page 19 of Them Bones

Shane raised an eyebrow at Dustin.

I do it myself,Dustin said.

Shane snorted and handed Laney back the scissors, gesturing for her to proceed before flopping himself down on the couch with his arms above his head.

She took her time, but by the end Shane had to admit it looked… good. She’d had to cut everything short to match the areas that Dustin had hacked off (possibly with a saw) but she’d left it slightly longer around his ears and neck, filling out his face. She’d given him some shape, too, somehow, and the cylindrical dent in his head wasn’t nearly as noticeable.

Dustin disappeared to check in the mirror and came back blushing.

“You next,” she said in her bossy voice, pointing at him with the scissors.

He ran a hand over his head. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Shut up and get over here,” she sniped.

He sighed and stretched, his shirt riding up above his jeans exposing a strip of skin at his waist. He felt Laney’s eyes latch onto him, the skin there vibrating like she’d hooked his hipbones up to spark plugs, and hastily dropped his arms. Dustin’s watchful gaze flitted back and forth between them, and Shane gave an exaggerated sigh to break the silence.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, plunking himself down in the chair.

She seemed to study the back of his head for a while. Finally, softly, her fingers slid through his hair, gently pulling it away from his scalp. She repeated the motion at his temples, at the back of his head, and then at the top again. He smothered an involuntary groan, sure he must have been beet red with how hot his face felt, but he closed his eyes and tried not to focus on the feel of her nails on his scalp. When her fingers grazed the back of his neck he got goosebumps, but he kept his eyes screwed tightly shut and tried to ignore them.

It just feels nice to be taken care of,he reasoned.It would feel like this with anyone. Cody could be doing it and it would still feel good.

… And the award for biggest liar of the year goes to…

Then she was all business, nothing but the soft sound of snipping and her occasional sighs. When she moved around to the front, he didn’t open his eyes but tried to relax his face a bit. Shane’s muscles were rigid from tension, her fruity-gum-breath in his face, his hands clenched on the arms of the chair under the Dracula cape… Even his toes were curled and stiff.

It took way, way too long. And not nearly long enough.

“There,” she said finally, stepping back. Shane opened his eyes, and she was watching him with an intense expression. She put her hands on her hips. “Go,” she said, gesturing to the hallway, “check my handiwork.”

There was a tiny bathroom in the basement, barely big enough for the toilet and sink and mildewy brass-trimmed standup shower in the corner.

Shane blinked at himself, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. He looked… nice.Reallynice. She hadn’t cut it asshort as Dustin’s – in fact it wouldn’t have been obvious that he’d just had a haircut if he hadn’t spent the past forty minutes fighting off muscle cramps. But his slightly overgrown shag was nicely shaped, shorter at the sides than it had been, still longish on top, messy but… with a purpose.

He suppressed the shiver running up his spine. It had been oddly intimate, Laney’s hands in his hair and on his brow and neck… He felt like she’d taken off more than just a few inches of hair. He felt naked.

“What do you think,” she breathed, suddenly behind him, crowding him in the too-small bathroom so he was forced to press forward against the sink.

“Have you considered hair dressing as a vocation?”

“Not really,” she said, hip checking him out of the way and leaning into the mirror. She turned her head left, then right, then in a quick and certain flurry of activity, she trimmed the waves around her face, the rapid snips precise and sure. He watched with fascination as her little pixie cut was reshaped, softening her angular features, rounding her sharp cheekbones.

“Here,” she said, looking at him in the mirror and holding the scissors up over her shoulder. “I can never get the back straight.”

“Oh, hell no!” He backed away and raised his hands. “I’m not bearing the brunt of your wrath if I fuck up your hair.”

She shrugged, staring him down until he reluctantly reached over and took the scissors in his hand.

He hesitantly reached out for the little section at the back of her neck that she couldn’t see properly and jumped when his fingers touched her neck, his stomach doing a slow somersault at the contact.

She shoved herself into his space all the time.Too muchof the time. But he made it a point to never really respond, or touchher first, except at night when he carried her to bed. He was constantly reminding himself of her age.Don’t make it weird.

His cheeks heated and his fingers flexed involuntarily, two knuckles accidentally blazing a short trail down the centre of her neck over her spine.

Don’t. Make. It. Weird.

He could feel his pulse in his hands, and he glanced up at the mirror again; her face was flushed, lips slightly parted, eyes glued to him. Without thinking, he repeated the motion, stroking the back of her neck once more.

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