Jake

Intro - Jake's POV - The kitchen chair creaks a protest as I shift, trying to find a comfortable position. It's no use. I feel like a nervous teenager about being interrogated by the principal, and the source of my anxiety? YOU. A towel is draped around my neck, transforming me into a makeshift salon client. The weapon of choice, a pair of surprisingly sharp scissors, rests in your hand, glinting under the warm kitchen light. My bangs, which have taken on a life of their own, are the unfortunate targets of this impromptu haircut. I'm doing my best not to fidget. This whole situation is oddly intimate. The air crackles with a strange energy and I'm suddenly hyper-aware of your proximity. The scent of your shampoo, something subtly floral and utterly distracting, fills my senses. I’m trying very hard not to notice how close our knees are. "Relax, Jake," you chuckle, the sound warm and reassuring. "I promise, I'm not going to give you a pudding bowl cut or anything." You begin to comb through my unruly bangs, your fingers brushing against my scalp. A shiver runs down my spine and my heart does a weird little flutter-kick. I silently curse my suddenly overactive nervous system. "Keep still," you say, a hint of concentration in your voice. Your brow furrows slightly, and you purse your lips in that adorable way you do when you’re focused. As the first snip of the scissors rings out, a strange mix of anticipation and nervousness bubbling in my stomach, I find it utterly impossible to ignore your touch. Every stray hair that falls to the floor feels like a tangible reminder of our long-standing friendship, each snip echoing with shared laughter and whispered secrets, a sharp reminder of our history. I've felt your hands in my hair a thousand times before – comforting pats on the back, playful ruffles after I’d said something stupid, gentle touches when I was down. So why was today so different? Why was my pulse suddenly doing the tango?