Before, when I came down the stairs and met Lizzie's eyes, the heavy cannon ball sitting in the middle of my chest detached and plummeted to the floor and rolled into my father's shoes. Lizzie owned the only map to find the place inside of me that hid away my reset button. Her presence recharged my existence.

"Ah!" Lizzie released a rattling yell as I doused her head with bath water. "I'm drowning! I'm definitely drowning!"

"Drowning people can't talk," I informed her as I moved my laptop a little further from the tub. It streamed the Hamilton Soundtrack because there was nothing that could possibly hype us up more (also, it was the perfect way to avoid brief spouts of awkward silences. If we couldn't find something to say, it was guaranteed we both knew all the lyrics and could sing instead).

Somehow, we already soaked the dark blue bathmats. She shook her head back and forth as she leaned underneath the faucet. My Stepmom permitted us to use the big bathroom with counter space and enough room for one of the kitchen chairs.

Peering at her, I said, "Maybe I should have given you a towel first."

Lizzie yelled again.

With a laugh, I reached into the towel cupboard and grabbed one of the older towels Debbie used to dye her hair. I turned the water off and Lizzie gasped, making a series of groaning noises as I tried not to laugh more than necessary. She sounded like a dying cat caught in the rain. I carefully moved her hair and slid the towel around her shoulders. The lump in my throat swelled.

Somehow, I had become more aware of Lizzie than ever before, the way she constantly rolled her shoulders and cracked her back, the way she curled her lips and concentrated on the words she wanted to say next. Just her mere presence gave me a ticklish feeling in my stomach.

When she took my hand in my bedroom, the tears nearly leaked out. I haven't talked about leaving New York to anyone since I sat in a car for hours with my Dad. We had tried moving as much of my stuff as we could, but I could list all the things left behind. Including mom. I must've dried my eyes out on that car ride.

I could still feel the shape of Lizzie's warm hands on mine. Her hands were calloused around the edges and worn from playing music. Every curve, every edge was like the deckled pages of a book and I wanted to discover every page. I wondered if our books could sit together on the shelf, if that would work, if that would make sense.

Lizzie flipped her head up, lashing me with her wet mop of hair.

"Watch it!" I cried, shaking off the droplets from my arms. Luckily, I was wearing an old T-shirt, underneath a huge plaid thermal and my most comfortable pair of leggings. She groaned, her shoulders high and perpetually cringing. Flopping down on the chair, she sighed and moved the rebellious wet strands from her face and spit some out of her mouth.

"So," I started to say, slipping a few hairbands around my wrist, "you have thick hair. I think I need to make a couple of ponytails."

My hands hesitated as I debated how much Lizzie would let me touch her hair or her skin, which was a ridiculous thought being I just kissed her cheek. My face rewarmed like a frozen meal thrown into a microwave. In less than ten seconds, Lizzie had a steaming, burn your mouth because it was too hot helping of Ashley 'the idiot' Parker's lips.

What was I doing? Was I a chaste maiden from another century? Next thing you know, I was going to call Camille and ask her to chaperone all of Lizzie and me's date and I'll need to ask Lizzie's father for permission to take her hand in marriage.

I should've just planted one on her lips.

Not her cheek, like an idiot.

"Awesome." Lizzie rocked in her chair, hyping herself up as I sectioned off her hair into long black pillars with a few bands wrapped around every bundle. She said, gripping her thighs, "I'm ready. Let's do this thing."

I peered at her reflection in the mirror, noticing her tight jaw, despite all the big talk. "Before we do this, should we discuss why you want to cut your hair. Are you just mad at your mom for talking to Mr. Burka behind your back or do you really just want short hair?"

"I need the change," she said, a burst of flames lighting up her eyes. "I want to change."

"Starting with this haircut?" I took up the scissors and held one of the sections, thinking I should say a few words of respect for the strands we were about to sacrifice.

"Yeah...." She nodded and smiled at me through the reflection.

"Here we go," I warned Lizzie and started chopping.

The scissors made a surprisingly satisfying scrunching noise as I sawed through the thick strands. Pieces feathered to the floor and all over my hands. Once I had a handful of Lizzie's cut hair, I met her eyes and we both unleashed an excited scream as if we were going down the first drop on a rollercoaster. I never screamed and laughed so loud at the same time before. No one ever gave me a reason to do it.

"Here." I offered her own lump of hair, excited to chop off the next one.

"Oh my god," She held up the bundle, still held together by the hairband. She made a long squealing noise, shaking it around. "I can't believe it! Oh my god."

With a laugh, I leaned over her shoulder and asked, "Should we stop?"

She smacked my hand and rolled her eyes. "Shut up, I hate you. What am I even paying you?"

"You're not paying me at all."

Just as I finished laughing long enough to start hacking at the next bundle, Debbie walked into the doorway and froze. Her eyes widened suddenly. That split second was all it took to compose herself. With a sigh, she dropped off our box of pizza and said, "I really hope you got permission." She leaned against the counter and tilted her head. She smiled. "That's a good length on you."

"Thank you," we said at the same time.

Lizzie hit me again. "Why are you thanking her? It's my hair."

"It's my handy work and stop moving so much."

Debbie left, slightly pale and we doled out the pizza. Lizzie raised a slice to my mouth as I hacked off the last two sections. Focused, I licked away a glob of pizza sauce. She fed me a few times before I finished my masterpiece.

"Ready for the reveal?" I asked, pulling the little rubber bands anyway. We screamed again as Lizzie hoped up and shook her head from side to side, checking out the length. It looked slightly crazy in a few places and it was slightly uneven, but Lizzie looked happier than I've ever seen her.

"Sit back down," I insisted and trimmed the uneven edges. She giggled, wiggling in her seat. We started discussing hairstyles that she could try and we talked about Camille's reaction. We talked about everything and nothing, going back and forth about the play and other events at school like how homecoming was creeping closer and closer.

Neither of us seemed like the dancing types, but I would've liked to see Lizzie all dressed up. I'd love to make her a dress, something red to go with her tan skin, but something old fashioned to go along with her old soul, like with cap sleeves and a line skirt so she could twirl until she dropped. I imagined Lizzie was the type of girl to wear pearls.

Then, it hit me.

We wouldn't be dating this time next month.

And a horrible nausea clouded my head.

The trial would be over and now that I thought about it, I promised Emily a few weeks ago that we would go together if we hadn't found dates by then. Did she still think that was the plan? I hadn't spoken to her since Lizzie and I started dating, but why? Wasn't Emily the reason I agreed to this trial? She just vanished from my thoughts.

I smiled through the upset feeling in my stomach and grabbed a few things to blow dry Lizzie's hair. She closed her eyes. "I want to be surprised by the end result."

"I love it," I agreed and dried her hair off. I took the scissors and trimmed a few more edges. Whenever I moved, I kicked some of Lizzie's hair. It was everywhere and my dad might kill me. Hair was like glitter, easy to scatter and difficult to get rid of completely.

I walked around to stand in front of Lizzie. I grabbed the two pieces of the hair framing her face. My thumb grazed her soft cheek. Her eyes lashes were thick. There was no way she was wearing makeup. It would've melted off from sticking her head under the faucet. She just looked this beautiful. She just sat there with her eyes closed, begging me to kiss those pouting lips.

Swallowing past my nerves, I took off her towel and managed to say, "Okay. You can look."

Lizzie's eyes popped opened and she squealed.

"I love it! Oh my gosh! I have short hair! It's so cute! It's so short! Oh my gosh!" She jumped up again and ran her fingers through the strands. It wasn't a fancy cut. I was a seamstress, not a hairdresser. Her hair hit just below her jaw, framing the heart shape of her face. Now, her neck looked twice as long.

She looked beautiful.

"Thank you!" She cheered and wrapped her arms around my neck. She swung back and forth. I put my arm around her back, bearing myself against her neck. I closed my eyes as I smiled and let her body burn against mine, like two stars colliding. I could've spent all night holding her. The butterflies in my stomach danced at the thought.

However, Lizzie and I played dress up instead. We ran to my closet and had a dance party, trying on all my clothes and a few costumes I've made in the past. She walked away with an old color blocked sweater of mine. We cleaned the bathroom together as we planned to watch old seasons of Project Runway until we fell asleep, but we ended up going to the kitchen to make cookies. While I was eating cookie dough just to get a rise out of Lizzie, who swore she had a cousin that got salmonella poisoning, I had a strange thought.

I needed today. It was the best day I've had in a while. 

This doesn't have anything to do with anything but most of this scene was written on page 69 and that's all I'll say about that. Hope you enjoyed the haircut!! There's still another update after this. We're jumping into Day Six. 

Don't forget to leave a comment with what you think! Would you let a girlfriend/boyfriend cut your hair? A friend? What did you think while reading Parker's internal struggles? What did you think about Lizzie's reaction to her haircut?