Sip by Sip

Chapter Eighty-Five: Hair Day

    The next morning she arrived into the coffee shop after him.

    He assumed something was wrong, and greeted her with a worried look set upon his face.

    "Is everything okay?"

    "No," she gave an exasperated sigh, adjusting her beanie, "I'm in extreme pain."

    He shot to his feet, rushing over to her. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you? I swear to god if he touched you . . . "

    She shook her head hurriedly. "No, no, no, I'm in extreme pain from how bad of a hair day I'm having."

    "Oh." He breathed in a sigh of relief, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

    She pulled off her beanie to reveal a puffball of curls piled atop her head like an afro. She groaned.

    "I don't know what I'm going to do." She whined, sitting down in her usual seat. She tugged at her curls. "I never should have cut it."

    "I'm sure the curls will settle down..." He assured weakly, and she let out another sigh.

    "This is terrible." She pulled her beanie back on, "I look terrible."

    He laughed, and reached for her small hands, enclosing them in his. "You know that's not true."

    "Stop being so perfect, Noah. You are too perfect. It's not fair."

    Noah stared at her for a moment, mulling over her words. When the waitress stopped by and he asked for scissors. She cocked her head in confusion.

    "What are you doing?" She asked, a hint of warning to her voice.

    "If you are having a bad hair day, then I will too."

    "No!" She cried out, as he snipped a patch off of his head.

    It fell in a clump to the floor.

    "See?" He asked, with a crooked grin, "Now you're not alone."

    A strange, new feeling was warming her chest, spreading to her cheeks. She stared at him, her mouth slightly agape.

    His grin slowly widened as he asked, "is it really that bad?"

    She laughed nervously in response.

    The waitress stopped back by to pick up the scissors, and noticed the hair on the floor.

    "This is a cafe, not a barber shop."

    "Sorry Jasmine." Gemma apologized, bending over to pick up the hair. She pinched it between her thumb and index finger, scrunching her face and letting out a sound of disgust.

    "I'm not even going to ask." Jasmine commented with a smile, "Just please clean it up."

    Gemma nodded in assurance, and threw out the hair after Jasmine walked away. Noah was standing when she returned, and she could barely open her mouth in protest before he had removed the beanie from her head.

    "I look like I have a natural perm. Or that I attempted a poodle hairstyle."

    He reached up and ruffled her hair. She scowled, and he laughed. "You look so cute when you're angry."

    "And you'd look cute with a black eye." He put his hands up in surrender, but a playful lopsided smile curled at his lips. She hid her own smile at the sight of his, and frowned. "Now give me my beanie back."

    "I think I need it more than you."

    "Uh-uh. Nope. Absolutely not." She argued, but didn't do anything to stop him from putting it on his head.

    She stared, and he raised one handsome eyebrow.

    "Am I pretty?" He asked with a laugh, adjusting the hat. But he was, and Gemma swore she might've been drooling.

    "N-no, you look like a-a raccoon, a raccoon with a beanie and gorgeous, gorgeous dark eyes . . . ." Her voice trailed off, her cheeks were redder than ever before, and Noah was amused. She quickly looked to the ground, and sat down. He grinned again, and followed suit.

     "I guess I should give you something in return, huh?"

    "W-what? I mean-you don't . . . " Her voice trailed off as he stood, her eyes locked with his, as he moved behind her and draped his sweater around her narrow shoulders. "-have to." She finished in a whisper.

    He smiled as she nuzzled against the fuzzy fabric, and he smiled at her contentment.

    "Do you like it?"

    "It smells like you." She paused to meet his eyes, "So yes."

    And it was his turn to redden, his ears burning within his new beanie.

Author's Note: You have no idea how much I wanted them to kiss in this chapter. I was listening to some music while writing this, and for some reason I had this urge to have them kiss. It didn't feel like the right time . . . not yet. But soon.

With love,

Zolaliz