George eventually realises that he’s now sitting alone in the lounge, his mate having left him a while ago to get some sleep. Why was her hair such a shock for him, he’d seen the photos of her in her phone this morning. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much. He shakes himself and climbs the stairs to her, their room.
He sees that she’s lying curled up, having left him space in the bed. He strips to his underwear and joins her. As soon as he is lying down, she slides over to him, and rests her head on his shoulder. He pulls her close and sighs. She whispers,
“If it’s too much at once, I’m sorry. The dye will wash out in a week or so, but I’m not growing it out again.” She wasn’t looking at him. He didn’t like that.
“No. It’s your hair, and you can wear it how you want. I just reall
