Zion sat with his head over the sink like he had the last few times—shoulders relaxed, towel around his neck, earbuds out. Aurora didn’t ask if he wanted help this time. She just tied her hair up, grabbed the shampoo, and got started. “You used the good stuff again?” she asked, working water through his dreads.

“Always,” he said, eyes closed. “My mom’ll kill me if I run through it though.”

“Then stop using half the bottle like it’s dish soap.”

He laughed. “Don’t come for me. You’ve got the heavy hand right now.”

Aurora smiled but didn’t say anything else. Her fingers moved through his hair with ease—this wasn’t new anymore, just part of their routine. She liked it. Liked how Zion went quiet when she got to his scalp. How he’d stop fidgeting. How he'd lean into her hands like it was second nature.

“You know,” he said after a minute, “you could probably start charging people for this.”

“I do it because I like you,” she said, casually. “Don’t get greedy.”

Zion opened one eye. “You like me?”

She rolled her eyes, rinsing the suds out. “Shut up.”

He smirked, leaning back a little more. “Just making sure.”