He lifted the lavender soap to his hair, and she squeaked.“You don’t use that in your hair,” she hissed, jolting from her perch to reach for one of the manyhair tonics lining the little shelf above the bath. “Rose, lemon verbena, or …” She sniffed the glassbottle. “Jasmine.” She squinted down at him.He was staring up at her, his green eyes full of the words he knew he didn’t have to say. Do I looklike I care what you pick?
-Sarah J Maas
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