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by thyselves

by thyselves

"Grant," I say as we walk out of the burger place, "should I cut my hair?"

I tug at an obnoxiously long stand of brown hair before twisting it into a bun. The length of my hair started to bother me ever since the heat really began.

Grant gazes at me, scrutinizing my hair, "Sweetheart, it's your choice. Don't let anything stop you."

"I think I might do it."

"How short do you want it?" Grant asks.

"I don't know, really," I admit, "I'm kinda scared."

He captures my hand and squeezes it affectionately, "Don't be scared, Venice. You'll always look beautiful in my eyes."

I feel myself blush at his comment, which makes my boyfriend smile.

•••

I look into the mirror, gaping at how different I look and feel. My brown hair is just past my shoulders, when it used to be up to my waist.

Turning to Grant, running my fingers through my hair, I ask, "What do you think?"

He tugs me closer to him, kissing the temple of my forehead, "Gorgeous."

_______________________

WHEN YOU'RE MORE HANDS ON AS BOYFRIEND AND GIRLFRIEND.

#VRAAAAANT

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--thyselves