the first time you notice it you're on her couch.
van's lying with her head in your lap, one arm behind her head, saying something about the movie you're not watching anymore. her hair fans out across your thighs and you become very suddenly aware of every single point of contact.
you say nothing.
you start paying attention.
it happens constantly once you notice.
van leaning close to show you something, hair falling forward, the ends brushing your shoulder, your cheek, your collarbone. van not noticing. you noticing enough for both of you.
she tucks it back sometimes, careless and automatic, and you feel the absence.
"you okay," van says one night.
you're lying down this time, facing each other, close in the dark. her hair is loose and some of it has drifted onto your pillow, onto your arm where it rests between you.
"yeah," you say.
"you've got a weird look."
"i don't have a look."
van squints at you. suspicious. perceptive in the way she always is with you specifically.
you look back innocently.
later she shifts closer in her sleep.
her hair settles against your neck, your jaw. soft and warm and smelling like her shampoo — something simple, nothing fancy, just van — and you lie there completely awake and unreasonably undone by it.
she sighs in her sleep. presses closer.
more hair. more warmth. the ends of it just barely touching your mouth.
you stare at the ceiling.
i am normal, you think. i am so normal about this.
you are not normal about this.
she catches you eventually.
you're sitting cross legged on the bed, van getting ready for something, leaning over to grab her keys — her hair swings forward and drags soft across your bare arm and you make a sound. quiet. involuntary.
van straightens up slowly.
looks at you.
you look at the wall.
"...did you just—"
"no," you say.
"because it seemed like—"
"i didn't."
van stares at you for a long moment.
then the corner of her mouth moves.
"okay," she says. very carefully. in a voice that means she is absolutely filing this away.
"don't," you say.
"i'm not doing anything."
"van."
she sits down in front of you. crosses her arms. hair falling over one shoulder, which is. not helpful.
"so," she says. "my hair."
"please stop."
"interesting," van says thoughtfully. "very interesting."
"i will leave," you say. "i will actually leave."
she leans forward. deliberately. slowly. lets her hair fall forward until it brushes your cheek, your jaw, just barely the corner of your mouth.
pulls back. eyes bright. the most annoyingly smug expression you have ever seen on a human face.
"stay," she says.
you stay.
obviously you stay.
after that she does it on purpose sometimes.
just — leans into you a little more than necessary. lets her hair drag across your skin when she moves. acts completely innocent about it.
you are down so tremendously bad and she knows it and she will never let you forget it.
worth it though.
absolutely worth it.