Chapter 76

He seems to hesitate, battling between the urge to tell me what he so eagerly wants to tell me, and the unsureness that shous clearly in his eyes. His hesitation about something I don't know, and the way it seems too disturb him, makes me a lapse into some sort of panic.

I can only imagine what my laughter would have seemed like, if he had actually come to tell me bad news, that his mother was dead, and he was back into the hands of his father. I can only imagine what he would think of me, if he had come here to break a sad news to me, and yet I have been laughing like a maniac just now.

"Is there anything wrong?" I ask him and he looks up at me involuntary. It really looks like he was scared of me in some way, the action is oddly cute as I find myself reaching out to drag my hands through black silky locks.

His hair is even more soft and silkier than mine, and I find myself wondering exactly how this is possible. My hair falls across my back like it's been painted there, and some artistic master had given it it's brilliance of life.

People seem to tell me that my hair shown in the sun, even if it was the colour of a deep tar. They said it shone like the moonlight, and I can't say I don't appreciate the compliments, but Clay's hair is like wool.

Exquisitely spun wool that always seemed to go one way or the other. It never seemed to stay in one place, and yet even if it is disorganised, it is perfectly disorganised.

He has the sort of hair that makes you think he never brushes it in a day, but yet it still looks perfect each and every time you see him. The look he gives me as I find out my hand has involuntarily found it's way into his hair, is one that makes me erupt in a blush.

I snatch my hand away quickly, the action makes me feel embarrassed at myself, as I can not seem to fathom what exactly made me have that particular impulse. The impulse to reach out and drag my hands through his hair was overwhelming, as it seemed one of my greatest fantasies.

What was even more surprising was the part when he grabbed my hands back, and put them into his hair where they had earlier been.

I can feel my legs wanting to give way under me, as they suddenly became limp, and I felt I couldn't feel anything anymore. What exactly are we doing here?, and why can't I seem to think straight.

Why do my thoughts go all topsy turvy?, and why is he playing along this well?. It's almost seems he wants me to fall for him, and this action of him grabbing my arms and putting it back into his hair seem surprisingly intimate. A lot more intimate than I don't want it to be, but I find myself loving the way it felt.

I lean in to the feel of it as I use my hands to feel the texture of his hair once again, and the way they are so soft surprises me. He has really nice hair.