"Ouch!"
"Stay still, Miss Dawson. You're only making it worse," he said, his voice a deep growl.
Obeying his command, I calmed myself from being frantic. Well, at least I tried. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't-"
"Shut up and let me do it. Remove your hand." His irritated voice made me a bit more uncomfortable. He then started disentangling my hair from the buttons of his shirt.
"Aaw!"
He hissed. "We need scissors."
My eyes widened. "Scissors? Sir, I can't have my hair cut short even with a few strands. It would look uneven."
He didn't answer. He simply continued the painstaking task of untangling them for what seemed like an eternity.
"What the hell were you even doing in here in the first place?" he asked. His voice was laced with sarcasm and a hint of disdain.
"I was looking for you,
