Yet not awkward. Mateo—even though he was a guy, even though they couldn’t agree on what to do or how to do it—he belonged here.

Didn’t mean she knew what to say to him.

Their eyes met, and she looked at him from a different angle than before—and then it was hard to meet his eyes. Mateo said, “Okay. Where do we start? You’re finally smiling, so I guess we’re on the same page.”

“It’s not that.” Nadia tried to cover her mouth with her hand, the better to disguise her smile. “Momentary distraction. Sorry.”

“What is it?”

“It’s just—” She put this as gently as she could. “Ginger really shortchanged you on that cut.”

“Is my whole head still lopsided?” When Nadia nodded, Mateo groaned. “Great. I’m trying to have a serious discussion while I look like an idiot.”

“You don’t. Look like an idiot, I mean.” Nadia hesitated. His hair was the least of their concerns—something for her to focus on instead of the bigger issue—but maybe it was better to get rid of any distractions. Besides, Mateo really did need some help. “Hey. I keep some scissors up here. Let me finish it.”

“Cut my hair?”

“Shouldn’t be too hard. I could try,” she said. “Only if you want me to.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Nadia leaned over to one of her toolboxes (she used ones from the hardware store—less suspicious and supersturdy) to get her scissors; Mateo slipped off his letter jacket, revealing the hard lines of his chest and arms beneath a long-sleeved black T-shirt. At first she was startled—by how amazing he looked, how close he was, the fact that he was taking his clothes off—but then she thought, He doesn’t want to get hair all over himself. Obviously. Don’t be an idiot.

But her pulse was pounding as she took the scissors, and grabbed one of her drop cloths to drape around his shoulders.

When she slipped her arms around his neck, he shifted his weight—surprised the same way she had been, she thought, by how close they were. Just thinking that made her cheeks flush hot, and Mateo wasn’t looking her straight in the eyes any longer, either. He said only, “You’ve cut hair before, right?”

“Sure. Plenty of times.” No need to tell him that the hair she’d cut had belonged to her old Barbie dolls, which all looked demented afterward.

Nadia tentatively reached toward him, her fingertips barely short of his hair, until finally she ran her hands through it. Mateo’s hair felt like warm silk against her palms. At her touch, he closed his eyes. Him reacting like that—it made the silence in the room softer, something that could hold them both.

Carefully Nadia took the scissors in one hand and combed her fingernails through the very back of his hair. Should she just—even it out? That seemed obvious enough. The metallic scrape of the blades against each other made her bite her lower lip, but then the first lock of hair fell away.