I woke up as someone's fingers brushed through my hair, and I laughed as I felt the agile, slender, skilled fingers slide through it. "Punzie, what are you doing?"
"Shh," she hushes me with a smile, "Let me work, darling."
"I'm concerned; love, when I wake up and my girlfriend won't even tell me what she's doing."
She laughs, "You'll see."
"That's even more concerning."
She laughs more, still messing with my hair. I try to glance up at her, but she laughs, pushing my head back. "Keep your head still, sweetheart."
I sighed and obliged, feeling her fingers running through my hair in an effort to make it neat as she moved in sections around my head. I thought about our relationship. It wasn't uncommon for her to wake me up by messing with something or other. Making sure my leg was secure, poking me in the stomach, a kiss on the cheek, cute stuff like that. But I do believe this is the first time she's woken me up by messing with my hair.
Oh, she's messed with my hair plenty of times. (I think she misses what she used to have, and since mine usually gets pretty long and unkempt, she likes to mess with it.) But I don't think she's ever woken me up by doing so.
Her fingers move through my hair around my head in sections, and finally, as she gets back around to where she started, she smiles. "There."
I sit up to turn and look at her and see the mirror she's holding up, allowing me to see the light pinkish-red roses she'd arranged in a flower crown around my head. I laugh, smiling at her. As she sets the mirror down, I lean and kiss her, pulling her into my arms. She blushes as she returns it, and when we pull back, I smile at her and murmur, "It's beautiful, but nothing can compare to your beauty, my love."