Read Online Summer I Found You by Jolene Perry - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jolene Perry
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through.
Yeah. Guess it was awkward for both of us.
I go for the kitchen and sit at the table, trying to see the knotted mass in my hair.
“That is bad.” He takes the chair next to me.
I let out a sigh as I realize the more I touch it, the worse it gets.
“Okay.” His fingers touch the mass in my hair. “I have no idea what to do about this.”
My chest sinks. “Well, I was thinking of cutting my hair anyway.”
“Want me to cut it out for now?” he asks.
“Well, I definitely don’t want to sleep on gum.” Someone else’s germs are in there. I shudder.
Aidan walks away, so I let myself notice him again while he can’t watch me doing it. He’s always in a plain white T-shirt. Always. It pulls across his chest and shoulders, just a little. But also, when he twists or turns a bit, I can see his sides, his abs, and his waist. The way I feel scares me. It’s not the more-than-friends thing I felt with Shelton. It’s more like want-my-hands-on-your-bare-skin and I can’t believe I’m even thinking this. It’s not like Shelton and I even went that far in our year together. Nothing under clothes. Ever. Okay, maybe a little on my back and waist, but that’s it.
And here I am watching Aidan walk back toward me with a pair of scissors, and part of me wants to reach up under his shirt to feel his stomach.
I have problems.
“Can you do that with one arm?” I ask.
“Do you use two hands on scissors?” He widens his eyes a bit, and I can never tell if he’s joking back, or if I’ve almost gone too far again.
“Uh…no. But I do use one hand to cut, and one to hold.”
“Oh. Right.” He stands to my left side and again, his breath hits my neck sending shivers through me. I’m pathetic. He’s nineteen, waiting for disability, and I’m in high school. So not a good idea.
“I promise to be careful.” He tries to hold in a laugh as he surveys the damage again.
“You know what?” I need to do something with all this pent-up energy. It’s just hair, right? I can be bold. Forward. Cool. Unexpected. “Cut it all off, you know, all the way around.”
“I can’t.” He shakes his head.
“It won’t be pretty, but I can get that fixed later. I’ve always wanted shorter hair. My sister cuts hair. You know, I could do an a-line cut that’s barely above my shoulders?”
“I don’t even know what that is.” He smirks.
“Just cut. Please. All the way around. Do it and get it over with.” I squeeze my eyes tight.
I expect him to protest further, but he doesn’t—just cuts and cuts. The sound of the scissors going through my hair is startling, crunching, smashing, something. It sounds like he’s cutting through hair much thicker than mine, that’s for sure.
“Done.” He stands back. “It might be a little uneven in a spot or two.” He tries to hold in his smile, which is my favorite thing because his cheeks get super dimpled.
I seriously need to stop thinking about him like this.
“I figured you’d put up some kind of protest.” I slowly bring my hands to my head, and run them through my hair, top to bottom. The ends are a mangled mess, but my hair feels thicker, better.
“It’s hair.” He leans his face down to look up at me through his amazing lashes again. “Not an arm.”
“Right. So since your perceptions are warped by your missing arm, my hair gets cut without a second thought?” I raise a brow.
He chuckles. “You wanted it. Besides, once someone evens the edges, it’ll be perfect.”
Great. Only I breathe in and smell some kind of lickable aftershave, and spearmint toothpaste—so, it was kind of worth it to have him so close.
“Come on. We have a few hours before they get back. Let’s watch something.”
And now I’m wondering how close I can sit next to him on the couch, but when we reach the living room I jump in the chair while he digs through movies. This is safer. Much, much safer.
8
Aidan Connelly
M OM’S HANDS COME TO HER mouth as she and
Yeah. Guess it was awkward for both of us.
I go for the kitchen and sit at the table, trying to see the knotted mass in my hair.
“That is bad.” He takes the chair next to me.
I let out a sigh as I realize the more I touch it, the worse it gets.
“Okay.” His fingers touch the mass in my hair. “I have no idea what to do about this.”
My chest sinks. “Well, I was thinking of cutting my hair anyway.”
“Want me to cut it out for now?” he asks.
“Well, I definitely don’t want to sleep on gum.” Someone else’s germs are in there. I shudder.
Aidan walks away, so I let myself notice him again while he can’t watch me doing it. He’s always in a plain white T-shirt. Always. It pulls across his chest and shoulders, just a little. But also, when he twists or turns a bit, I can see his sides, his abs, and his waist. The way I feel scares me. It’s not the more-than-friends thing I felt with Shelton. It’s more like want-my-hands-on-your-bare-skin and I can’t believe I’m even thinking this. It’s not like Shelton and I even went that far in our year together. Nothing under clothes. Ever. Okay, maybe a little on my back and waist, but that’s it.
And here I am watching Aidan walk back toward me with a pair of scissors, and part of me wants to reach up under his shirt to feel his stomach.
I have problems.
“Can you do that with one arm?” I ask.
“Do you use two hands on scissors?” He widens his eyes a bit, and I can never tell if he’s joking back, or if I’ve almost gone too far again.
“Uh…no. But I do use one hand to cut, and one to hold.”
“Oh. Right.” He stands to my left side and again, his breath hits my neck sending shivers through me. I’m pathetic. He’s nineteen, waiting for disability, and I’m in high school. So not a good idea.
“I promise to be careful.” He tries to hold in a laugh as he surveys the damage again.
“You know what?” I need to do something with all this pent-up energy. It’s just hair, right? I can be bold. Forward. Cool. Unexpected. “Cut it all off, you know, all the way around.”
“I can’t.” He shakes his head.
“It won’t be pretty, but I can get that fixed later. I’ve always wanted shorter hair. My sister cuts hair. You know, I could do an a-line cut that’s barely above my shoulders?”
“I don’t even know what that is.” He smirks.
“Just cut. Please. All the way around. Do it and get it over with.” I squeeze my eyes tight.
I expect him to protest further, but he doesn’t—just cuts and cuts. The sound of the scissors going through my hair is startling, crunching, smashing, something. It sounds like he’s cutting through hair much thicker than mine, that’s for sure.
“Done.” He stands back. “It might be a little uneven in a spot or two.” He tries to hold in his smile, which is my favorite thing because his cheeks get super dimpled.
I seriously need to stop thinking about him like this.
“I figured you’d put up some kind of protest.” I slowly bring my hands to my head, and run them through my hair, top to bottom. The ends are a mangled mess, but my hair feels thicker, better.
“It’s hair.” He leans his face down to look up at me through his amazing lashes again. “Not an arm.”
“Right. So since your perceptions are warped by your missing arm, my hair gets cut without a second thought?” I raise a brow.
He chuckles. “You wanted it. Besides, once someone evens the edges, it’ll be perfect.”
Great. Only I breathe in and smell some kind of lickable aftershave, and spearmint toothpaste—so, it was kind of worth it to have him so close.
“Come on. We have a few hours before they get back. Let’s watch something.”
And now I’m wondering how close I can sit next to him on the couch, but when we reach the living room I jump in the chair while he digs through movies. This is safer. Much, much safer.
8
Aidan Connelly
M OM’S HANDS COME TO HER mouth as she and
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