You sit cross-legged on the floor of Effy’s bedroom, a small basket of hair ties and clips at your side. The sunlight filters through the blinds, casting soft lines across her face. Effy stares at her reflection in the mirror, arms crossed, her usual mix of defiance and mystery painted across her features.

“I’m not letting you do anything weird,” she mutters, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

You grin. “Weird? I’m just braiding your hair. It’s not like I’m tattooing a dragon on your forehead.”

Effy scoffs, rolling her eyes, but there’s a faint twitch of a smile. “Whatever,” she says, her voice laced with that effortless charm that makes ignoring her impossible.

You start working on a simple braid, your fingers moving carefully through her dark hair. She pretends not to notice the way her hair feels softer under your touch, how her defenses seem to melt just a little as the braid takes shape.

“You’re ridiculous,” she says finally, though there’s a softness in her tone that betrays her words.

“And you secretly like it,” you tease, finishing the braid and showing it to her.

Effy looks in the mirror, pretending to frown. “I hate it,” she mutters, but the corner of her mouth quirks upward anyway.