Kai's POV
I don't know what kind of spell she's cast, but it's working.
She hasn't shut up since Monday. Sky Ren, law student, human glitter bomb, hair longer than the national debt, somehow convinced me—me—to braid it in the middle of class.
I should've said no.
I should've walked away.
I should've let her sit there with her stupid unraveling braid like the chaos demon she is.
But I didn't.
And now I'm standing here by the law building staircase, gripping my coffee like it wronged me, because all I can think about is the way her hair felt between my fingers.
Soft. Silky. Stupidly long. Like it had a mind of its own—just like her.
I braided it. I braided it. In silence. In public. With people staring. And I didn't stop them.
I'd do it again.
God, what is wrong with me?
"Yo, Kai," some guy from Criminal Law calls, passing me. "Nice work on that braid, man."
I stare at him until he walks faster.
Everyone saw.
Everyone.
And she just smiled up at me like I handed her the moon on a silver plate.
She didn't even thank me properly. She just kept talking. Ranting about how the ends weren't tucked tight enough. How it looked "too symmetrical" and didn't match her vibe. I don't even know what that means.
But she left it in.
She didn't redo it.
She walked around campus with my braid in her hair.
That's what's messing me up.
Because now every time I see her, I don't see the clumsy hurricane with the ridiculous bows and the loud laugh and the outfits that make no sense. I see the quiet moment between us. Her back to me. My hands in her hair. People whispering. Her not caring.
I see how her head tilted slightly when I tightened the last loop.
I see how still she went.
How I didn't want it to end.
And worst of all—I want to do it again.
Her hair was tied up in a heavy braid today again, but it wasn't mine. I could tell. The strands weren't as neat. The base wasn't as tight.
I wanted to fix it.
I almost did.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I've had people throw themselves at me since high school. I'm Kai Ashford. I don't do clingy. I don't braid hair. I don't fall for girls who name imaginary kids and talk about marriage after one semi-illegal nap on my shoulder.
But Sky?
Sky makes me want to break all my rules.
And tie another braid while I'm at it.