did the best I could with your hair,” he added. “But I’ve never washed hair as long as yours before, so if I screwed up, don’t hold it against me.” My heart squeezed. “You washed my hair?” “I sort of had to,” he replied. “You sprayed your ponytail with chunks, too.” “Oh god.” I pulled my damp hair over my shoulder and took a sniff, instantly recognizing the shampoo scent as the one he used. “That’s quite possibly the most romantically disgusting thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
