The Boy Who Couldn't Sit Still

1.6

I knock on the door waiting for Flynn to answer. We're dying his hair today. Flynn wanted to wait for the night before prom to redye his hair so it could be absolutely perfect.

He opens the door with a bright smile. I give him a big hug right away. Flynn and his family went to North Carolina for a wake so I haven't seen him all week. He got home an hour ago.

"I missed you, Flower," he says into my neck where he successfully managed to nuzzle his head into.

"I missed you too," I say squeezing him harder for a second before letting go. "Are you ready to get your hair dyed?"

"Yes!" He smiles letting me into his house. "I couldn't find the blue I have right now but I found a mint color that we could use."

"Ooo lanky mint haired asshole," I joke making him slap my shoulder playfully. "Don't worry it doesn't have the same ring to it."

"Lily," he says stopping at the door to the bathroom, "you are so weird."

"I'm weird?" I ask raising my eyebrow, "you have blue hair and walk around the town randomly."

"Fair enough," he shrugs walking into the bathroom. He jumps on the counter so his back is facing the mirror and starts opening the hair dye box. "My hair is too dark so we have to bleach it first."

"As you wish," I chuckle grabbing the instructions.

"Don't go all Princess Bride on me," Flynn says.

"In this scenario you'd be the princess," I smirk.

"And I'd be the greatest princess ever," he exclaims pointing to the ceiling proudly.

"And I'd be the best Westley ever," I mock doing the same thing he did.

"Oh shut it," he says pushing my shoulder a bit.

"If you want me to do this I need to either sit on the counter too or you need to get off and sit on the floor," I tell him, "you're too tall."

"Fine," he grumbles sliding off the counter.

"I can leave," I warn him and he gives me a little pout.

"Don't leave," he begs getting on his knees, "I'm pregnant."

"Okay, bye," I laugh pretending to walk away but he pulls me back.

"Come back," he laughs.

"No," I chuckle, "you're being mean."

"Please," he pleads again now sitting on the floor completely.

"Yes, of course, dummy," I smile grabbing the instructions to bleach his hair.

"You would read the instructions," Flynn scoffs.

"Well do you want your hair to be messed up?" I ask and he shuts up.

"I just want my roots gone," he admits peeking over the counter to look in the mirror.

"I like your roots," I tell him running my hand through his hair. "It gives me a since of how you'd look with all black hair."