Troye's pov
Suits buttoned firmly, hands pressed down the fabric, we make sure every last detail is correct.
"Don't talk to me until I'm dressed or else there will be no getting dressed," I said.
He somehow found the courage to stay away. I wouldn't blame nor fight him if he broke. I dye my hair bleach blond and add too much toner, painting my curls a lilac cloudy dream. In the end, I find my own courage and strut out of my bedroom.
I find him waiting for me, black suit and tie, shoe-tapping and all, his eyes wandering up and down my body.
"Lilac." He murmurs, staring at my hair.
"I like it."
