Free The Weight of Love by Jolene Betty Perry Page B

laughs. “While we’re all here.”
    “She does a good job, man.” Elder Smitts chuckles at me. “Don’t worry about your precious hair.” He reaches an arm out to swipe it, but I dodge easily.
    I point at him. “Don’t touch the hair man.” How can you be almost twenty-one and this ridiculous?
    Jaycee laughs. “Are you afraid of what I’ll do to you?” She snips her scissors between us with a look of pure dare on her face.
    I don’t even know how to answer that because right now I feel like it applies on a million different levels. “You can do him first.”
    “You’re afraid,” she challenges.
    “Do him first.” I cross my arms and smile. I’m actually not afraid of her cutting my hair. I’m afraid of my reaction, and how it will feel to have her cut my hair. I’m still trying to get over my desire to wrap my arms around her at that lost look in Sister Allen’s kitchen.
    My companion’s hair is short. It only takes Jaycee minutes. She’s good.
    “Thank you.” He stands up and Sister Allen takes the towel off his shoulders and walks with it outside. He runs his hands over his head. “Feels good.”
    “Good.” Her face catches mine. “You’re next. Unless you’re still scared of me.”
    I need to find a hymn or something. Something nice. Something calming. I sit on the stool.
    “Loosen your tie a bit.” She’s holding a towel, waiting for me to comply. I do as told, knowing that next she’ll be tucking the towel in my shirt to make sure she doesn’t get hair on me.
    This is what it’s like to be tempted. To be tempted to the point of insanity.
    I can feel her warmth as she moves around me, her fingers brushing my skin as she tucks in the towel.
    “I love your hair, and I’m honestly a little intimidated.” She smirks, but our eyes catch just the same.
    It’s hard that I can’t ask her how she feels. What she’s thinking. She lightened up so much from earlier and it makes me want to know what changed for her.
    “I trust you,” I say before she has a chance to look away.
    “Okay, well I promise not to take too much off.”
    She walk s around behind me, her fingers running through my hair.
    “Take it all off!” Bishop Allen chuckles as he walks in from the living room.
    “Don’t worry,” she says quietly. “I’d never take all this hair off. It would be a waste.”
    Her hands run over my head spreading a warmth through me that has very little to do with anything gospel related and more relating to how I’d like to touch her. Okay. That’s it. I start thinking hymns. HAVE to start thinking hymns. What do I start with…? I Am A Child of God. That’s good. Primary song for kids. I go through the first verse in my head.
    I close my eyes as her fingers slide across my scalp and her scissors snip in an easy rhythm.
    Okay, doesn’t matter who it is. Second verse… but I can’t remember the second verse because her warmth brushes against me again.
    “You’re tall.” She laughs.
    “Yes.” I let my eyes open, but I picked a bad time because she’s in front of me and as she leans forward her legs lean against my knees and I have to find another hymn right now. Now.
    I have that tight chest and shallow breathing I have when a hot girl is in the room, and this is not the time or place for that. I’ll Go Where You Want Me To Go. Yep, this is good. A good missionary song. I run through the words in my head. Better. Keep my eyes closed, and now I can try to convince myself that some guy has their hands on my head. But it’s hard when her fingers are so small, and move so swiftly, and she smells so good.
    Both her hands are on my hair and she shakes it out, running her hands over my head a few more times. Maybe I can just enjoy this one stupid, simple thing.
    “You totally don’t trust me.” Her mocking tone is still there. “You’re all tensed up.” She grabs my shoulders with her hands in tease, but all I feel is her small strong hands on my shoulders.
    “Sorry.”