“Stop putting your face in it,” she mumbled. But after a moment she sat herself up with a hand on his chest.“Can’t help it; there’s a lot of it. It just sort of happens.” He remained sprawled out on his back, curling one arm under his head.
“Shall I cut it all off, then?” It wasn’t entirely serious, but she did want to know what he would say. “I thought you liked playing with it.”
“You’re not allowed to cut it off,” he retorted, without even a pause for thought. True, he wouldn’t say much if she decided to, but he was remarkably fond of her hair. “You’ll be forced to just listen to me whine about getting your hair in my face.”
“Not /allowed/, is it?” Summer bit down on a smile, and poked his nose. “How will you stop me? I’m /deeply/ curious.”