"Do you feel better?" I asked.
"I think I'm gonna have nightmares for the next couple of days," he said.
I set down the cup of warm tea on his bedside table and turned to him. He'd just come out of the shower; his hair was dripping and his shirt clung tightly to his body.
"Hey, at least you didn't go missing," I teased.
"Ha-ha."
He sat on the bed, a small towel on his shoulder. I walked over to him and took it.
"Let me," I said.
I wiped his wet hair with the towel, inhaling the sweet scent of the vanilla shampoo he used.
He closed his eyes. "This is nice."
I smiled faintly.
His hair was soft and smelled good. He opened his eyes and stared into my soul.
"No one's ever dried my hair for me…except my mom," he said.
"Really?"
He nodded. "I tried to get her to stop after I grew older but she said she loved doing it. There was this song she'd hum as she dried my hair."
He smiled wistfully. "It was soothing."
I stared at him. "Do you want me to hum a song?"
