“Your hair looks pretty like that,” he says, when I’m done. My face warms. I’m not used to hearing something like that so directly from a boy—especially from Len, of all people. And I admit that it sends me into a euphoria that I’m immediately afraid of losing, like a Lindt truffle that you can only savor while it melts. This is the male gaze, I realize. It’s wonderful and horrible at the same time.
LOL MALE GAZE
