Hellooooo everyone! Happy New Year!

We hope you enjoyed the end of year safely and happily. We're back today with more... quarantine shenanigans. You'll see what we mean in a moment.

Now, for today's music:

-Diary - DEPAPEPE

-A Nice Spring Evening - Jordy Chandra

-Between Us (feat. Snoh Aalegra) - dvsn, Snoh Aalegra

-Pulling Away - Sinead Harnett, Gallant

-Mess - Jordan Fisher

-Feel Alive - Fake Shark

-Time - EllaHarp

-I Guess It's Time To Wake Up - Joey Pecoraro

-The Circles - Marit Larsen

-Haircut - Coleton Rubin

As always, the music is optional, but a really nice add-on to set the mood.

Chapter 14

The next few days, Gilbert successfully avoided Anne's scissors, but his excuses were running thin. He really did not want his hair being cut by her (the memory he'd made a reference to very fresh on his mind) and had just accepted because he had thought she would stop her teasing. Which she hadn't.

Other than suggesting the cut at any time he was around, Anne had kept busy, trying to follow Gilbert's suggestion. So she started taking more pictures. Of their teas (two cups looked better than one), of her walk, of anything she could think of and published at least one every day. Gilbert scrolled through his timeline with a silly smile on his face when he was free and Fred looked over his shoulder at the latest of Anne's activities.

"You know you can just follow her?" Gilbert asked at some point.

"It's much more fun to look at them with you. I get all the reactions," his friend replied, winking.

"Who are you talking about?" asked a nurse student who was just entering the staff room. Gilbert felt his ears go red. "You've looked much happier lately, dr. Blythe, is your wife finally home?"

"What?" Gilbert asked, stupefied. Of all questions…

"Finally! She is back. Wanna look at her, Giselle?" Fred answered, taking his phone off his hand before he reacted. "Isn't she a beauty?"

"Ohhh she definitely is! Look at that hair! I can see why you were always pinning for her. I'm glad for you, dr. Blythe," she said. "Love her posts, as well, she has such a good eye," she commented, scrolling down on her feed. "No pictures with you, though."

"We've… been apart a long time," he said, stuttering. How could he get out of this now? He shot a murderous look at Fred.

"Oh, Giselle, you could always follow her, I know she wouldn't mind," Fred said sweetly and Gilbert kicked him under the table. Hard.

"Oh, I will! Her pictures are so pretty!" she said, taking out her phone and typing down her username as a group of her nurse friends came into the room. "Girls! Look at this, dr. Blythe's wife! She has the greatest instagram. What is her name?"

"Anne…" Gilbert mumbled, so uncomfortable, looking at his salad as the nurses started all following Anne, commenting about all the features he knew by heart. He didn't need a group of twenty-year-olds to tell him Anne was beautiful, or that her freckles were perfect or that her eyes were an incredible shade of blue. He knew all that and some more and hearing about it only made himself blush. They returned his phone, finally, and decided to go for coffee. Fred snickered. "You owe me big time, Freddie."

"You set that up on yourself when you started wearing that thing, I warned you then it would go out of control. I'll follow her now. Comment everything," Fred answered, absolutely nonplussed, as he stood to wash his things. Gilbert groaned as his phone buzzed.

**Carrots (12:23): Hey, dr. Blythe, know anything about five nurses suddenly following me on instagram?

**Gilbert Blythe (12:23): It's all Fred's doing Don't look at me.

**Carrots (12:23): Yeah, right. They look sweet.

**Gilbert Blythe (12:24): They're all students, the cutest. Seem so young I feel weird around them.

**Carrots (12:24): Because you're oldddddd nearing the dreary 30s! 👴 👴 👴

**Gilbert Blythe (12:25): Shut it 😒 You're not that young either.

**Carrots (12:25): Child at heart, dr. Plus, I work with kids. I steal their youth. 😈 😈 And you're two years older than I am.

**Gilbert Blythe (12:26): Being 27 doesn't make you young either. You haven't stolen youth in months. Btw, I received a notification a while ago, wanna check if there's something on the mailbox? There might be something you like.

**Carrots (12:26): :o what? Surprise?

**Gilbert Blythe (12:27): Go and look.

"Blythe, coffee?" Fred asked him.

"Yeah, let's go."

"You are grinning like a kid. What happened?"

"I got Anne some books as a surprise and she is about to get them. I really wish she could go study, you know? The more I think about it, the more I want to tell her to just do so and stay living in my apartment. It's not like she's spending much and I'd be so glad," he explained. The past few months hadn't added that much to his expenses, if he was being honest. He could keep this up easily.

"You just want her to stay with you," Fred argued.

"Well, of course I do. But I also want her to feel fulfilled," he accepted. They got down by the stairs, walking calmly to the Timmies on the corner.

**Carrots (12:35): Gilbert Blythe you didn't. 😳 They're expensive!

**Gilbert Blythe (12:35): I did too. Enjoy. I have to go back to work now.

"Anne? You're home?" he asked as he got inside. He kicked his shoes off and listened to the tune from A Nice Spring Evening by Jordy Chandra. Going to the living room, he found her in some yoga pose (upward dog? downward dog? all the poses had dog names?) and he felt his ears go warm. Why would she exercise in that, of all things? So tight, so…

"Sorry! I'll finish in ten minutes," she said, as the calm voice from the app she was using told her to release and go to… something he didn't understand.

"Right. I'll… be right in the kitchen," he said, because he couldn't stand there and look at her like an idiot. She looked too hot for it to be true. He was used to Anne's flowiness, to her ease, to her being comfortable in his huge hoodies and in cute dresses, and even in that skimpy thing and those shorts she wore to sleep. He was not used to her clad up in such fitting things and going around in something that evidently was only a bra. He washed his hands and put some water to boil just to occupy himself and soon she was in the kitchen, drying the nape of her neck with a small towel. "Good workout?" he asked, not knowing what else to say.

"Great! So relaxing, as well. You should try sometime. For your stress," she said, filling a glass with water and sitting on the counter.

"Eh… I don't think so," he answered, forgetting about his tea. Not with her looking like that. He went closer to her as she left the glass next to her. "How was your day?" he asked softly, his hand lightly caressing the one that was closest to him.

"Good! Kept reading the books you bought me. You seriously shouldn't have."

"Nonsense. I wanted to so I did. Plus, I think you can tell me about it so I don't look like an idiot whenever Bash talks to me about Delly's education," he replied. She giggled and he let his hand trail softly, slowly up her arm, noticing as she got goosebumps all over. Well, at least he wasn't the only one who kept reacting to the other.

"I will tell you all about Waldorf, don't worry," she said. "You'll just have to find a way to shut me about it," she added and then bit her lips as she felt herself blush. She hadn't meant to say that. Because she knew how Gilbert's mind would just… And, as if on cue, he huffed, resting his hand finally on her cheek, the other one going to the exposed area of her waist as he got in between her legs. What was she wearing, anyway? What was that called? He'd have to ask someone. Not her.

"I guess I could find a way to do so," he said, looking at her eyes. She blushed even brighter. He wanted to smile, but really, he was just too turned on by her clothes (or lack thereof?), and her smell, and her words… He leaned forward, "I could do this, for example," he whispered in her ear, just before giving her a small kiss just below it, but didn't lean back, staying there and just breathing her in. "I think it would work, but I could…" he added, his voice still as low, but now a bit hoarse as well. He trailed off as he deposited small, lingering kisses in her neck, holding her head just in place with his hand, caressing her with his thumb, as he felt her stay still, her pulse racing under his lips. His other hand grabbing her waist, warm. Fuck, he was so turned on he wasn't stoping this time. Anne had to know what she was doing to him. She couldn't very well let him kiss her this way and not want him as much as he did.

Anne's mind was clouded, her breathing shallow. She wasn't exactly sure of what Gilbert was doing to her, but this teasing was something like she had never experienced before. Not with Lincoln. Not with Daniel. Had she really been with anyone who made her melt like this? Who made her want this much, yet fear this much? She closed her eyes, it was just too much, as she felt another kiss, going dangerously close to her lips and saw how raw his eyes were, so dilated and so full.

If he kissed her- she knew she would be all gone. Somehow she forced herself to regain some clarity, against the feeling of his hand in her waist (strong and gentle at the same time), his thumb in her cheek, his breathing, his scent. Even his chest, so close to hers, her body just moving forward an inch, two, just to be closer to him. Any closer and she would touch him. Whatever they had going on these days would end if he kissed her. They would not be able to go back. And what if it didn't work? What if he kissed her and then all was lost and…? She couldn't stand it.

"No," she whispered, swallowing, using all her strength and whatever control she could muster. Gilbert frowned, and stayed still, but didn't move back. Was she being serious? "Gil, stop, please," she insisted, because saying no had been the hardest, but she knew she couldn't lose him and if he didn't stop, she definitely would.

He stood back, letting go of her completely, frowning, completely confused, his jaw so tense he was sure he was gaining a tension headache just by standing there, every muscle in his body aching to go back to her and contracted by the strength it took him not to. He wouldn't touch her if she just said no, but what was she playing at? He tried to breathe, leaning back on the counter on the other side, looking at her in the eyes, feeling his pants tight. Her eyes were as dilated as he had imagined, she was as flushed as she had felt under his breath, he could even notice how her chest went up and down frantically with her ragging heart. Her mouth parted as she breathed quickly. She was as turned on as he was and there was not a single way to deny it. What the fuck was she playing at?

"I need to go," he said finally, feeling drowned, turning for the door and taking his running shoes and car keys. He would put them on the elevator, he just needed space between him and Anne right now. He left out a frustrated cry as soon as he closed the door behind him, not caring at all if any of the neighbors heard him.

Anne heard his groan and closed her eyes. It had transmitted just how she felt. But she was sure she had done the right thing. Having sex with him would only spoil the friendship they were finally enjoying after so many years. And she was enjoying it. And sex only made everything more complicated, as far as her experience went. Complicated and decidedly not worth it.

**Gilbert Blythe (18:20): Lend me Bear? And some shorts? I'll be there in ten.

**Fred (18:21): K.

"What is going on, Blythe?" Fred asked as soon as he opened the door.

"I need to go for a run or something now, don't judge. Shorts?"

"Bathroom. I'll get the collar. Want me to come?"

"You'll not be able to keep up," Gilbert was honest. He wasn't planning on going easy. He went to the half bathroom next to the main door, the short folded over the sink. He changed quickly, leaving his pants folded on the same spot along his shirt. "Can I shower here after? I'd rather not go home early."

"You can but now spill. What is going on?" Fred answered, voice stern, Bear on his leash, sitting next to him. Tail waving.

"Don't push it, Freddie," extending his hand to receive Bear, still tense.

"Blythe," Fred said in a warning tone, still keeping the dog from him.

"I am just frustrated. She's fine, we haven't fought, nothing. So breathe. I just need to vent out because otherwise I will die and exercise is the best way to do so now. And I can't see her anymore today. So please, give me Bear?" Fred extended the leash, finally, and Gilbert went back to his car, letting him in in the back seat.

"Come back in time for dinner!" Fred called, and Gilbert answered with a signal as he closed his door.

He went to Confederation, a park next to the lake with a long running lane, where he used to go with Bear. First they went to swim in the still cold water. Then to run fast for some kilometers. Because he knew the dog was able to keep up. Then they stopped, when he finally felt calmer, and sat on the grass next to the panting dog. He served him some water and leaned back for a while. Images of Anne in the kitchen, flushed, her lips parting just so, flowed his mind.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed. He tied Bear to a tree (he was still prone to running off) and did whatever crossed his mind that sounded more tiresome as the dog slept and drank from a portable bowl he had brought. Planks. That damn freckle in her chin. Push ups. What was she wearing today? They were now wearing just underwear around each other? Reverse lunges. Her smell. How on earth could she smell that good? Squats. The way her pulse felt as he kissed her. Burpees. How she seemed to lose her breath when he got too close. Crunches. That damn camisole and nonexistent shorts. Whatever.

He pushed himself as hard as he could, every time Anne appeared on his mind winding him up even more. Bear watched him, curious, and napped when he got bored with Gilbert's antics. He was already sweaty and tired when he decided it was enough. The dog sat down, waving its tail as if he was just out. That's why he was the best exercise buddy.

"You have to be joking, Bear. We already ran six k. We swam. I… well, you did nap," he told the dog. But then he remembered the way she had been caressing him the other day. "But it's your lucky day, here we go for the next six," he said. Whatever it took to get her out of his head. It would not do.

Gilbert was exhausted by the time they were back at Fred's door. Ella opened the door, grimaced, and signalled the direction of the upstairs bathroom.

"There's anything you need there. I already took your clothes upstairs. Please, feel free to use Fred's deodorant," she said. Gilbert nodded, too tired to speak, a look of defeat in his eyes. "Dinner's on the stove. I already ate but Fred is waiting for you. I'll be up so you both can talk," she added.

"Thanks, Ella," Gilbert said, going up as he felt how every muscle was already hurting so much it didn't seem real. He came down ten minutes later, hair still wet as he tried to dry it with a towel.

"Honestly, Blythe, time for a cut," Fred said from where he was reading. He got up and went to retrieve the plates Ella had left for them. It was quite late already. Gilbert glanced at his phone.

"Tell our premier to open up," he answered. "I'm not emulating your style, thank you."

**Carrots (20:12): Are you coming back for dinner?

**Carrots (20:42): Nevermind. I ate. Left you something in the fridge.

**Carrots (21:15): I guess I'll see you tomorrow? Take care, please.

**Gilbert Blythe (21:25): All good. At Fred's. See you tomorrow.

"Who cooked this?" he asked before taking the first bite, looking at the dubious concoction in front of him

"Ella. And you're eating it. You came unannounced, deal with it," Fred answered. "So, spill. What happened?"

"Still not talking about it," Gilbert answered. He had been this close tonight. This close. And she had said no. They ate in silence for a moment. He had worked out so much he was famished and didn't mind Ella's cooking. "Why in the world would she say no, as in ask to stop, if she is evidently worked up?" he asked suddenly after a while. Fred looked at him.

"Because she is scared or uncomfortable or has had a bad experience, or… I don't know, Blythe, any number of reasons. What were you doing? Last I knew you hadn't even kissed her."

"I haven't. That's what I was about to do, when she stopped me."

"What were you…?"

"Must you know all the details?"

"Of course not, I just relish in how uncomfortable you are right now. But it would help, here I thought you were about to have sex and she stopped you, but it's only that you were about to kiss her and got that reaction?"

"I had… been kissing her. Before. On the neck. On the chin. And maybe I was riding her up. Caressing her on the arm, on the waist… It wasn't even that much, now that I think of it. Believe me, at least I can tell when a woman in front of me is excited. And she so was. I swear. I was not forcing her to do anything and she was almost panting, Freddie, I swear. And then she told me to stop. Out of nowhere," Fred looked at him, frowning.

"I don't know, Blythe… I would venture to say she is scared, maybe about what can happen if it doesn't work out for you guys. Maybe she's thinking this way she can have you but don't risk anything more than necessary, even if she wants to? As a sacrifice?"

"She told me she was scared, once," Gilbert commented.

"Well, there you have it."

"I've been trying to follow her pace, Fred. But it really is becoming an impossible endeavour. She drives me crazy. I won't be able to keep this up much longer," he was honest. "And ever since we came here for dinner, I've been trying to be more evident… To see if your strategy works. Nothing. I end up losing, frustrated as I am," he said. "Hence me coming for Bear."

"There's always…" Fred started and Gilbert gave him a dark glance.

"Don't go in there, Fred," he said, darkly.

"Just saying, it could help. And there's nothing wrong with it. Coffee? Tea?"

"I should probably head back. I am dead tired, I hope I'll sleep and tomorrow everything will make sense again," Gilbert answered, getting up. He winced as everything hurt.

Gilbert opened the door of the apartment, finding it completely dark. The door to his bedroom closed. He sighed. It was not that he had expected her to wait for him, but it felt weird now to come back to such a silent place. He went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and found a note.

Sorry. I'll figure it out.

He huffed. Was that supposed to be reassuring? Figure it out how? He drank, watching the note. He put it on the fridge with a magnet. There, have your note watch you every day, Anne, see how you do. He went back to the living room and opened the sofa bed, trying to remember when his lease contract finished. He would get something with two bedrooms and have a proper guest bedroom. This was tiring. He collapsed in bed and was asleep before he even noticed, so tired he was.

The next day everything hurt so much Gilbert would have called in sick if it wasn't because they were so short staffed at the moment. He got up, stretching gingerly. There had to be a better way to release sexual tension. One that didn't involve sex or pain. He went directly to the bathroom, and sighed as he got under the hot spray, trying to move the stiff muscles. He really had to learn to stretch better.

Anne heard him start the shower and put on his hoodie before going out of the bedroom. She felt slightly ashamed of her behaviour the day before. She really shouldn't have allowed him to have her like that if she wasn't ready for what it implied. And she had put on the hoodie and some pants, because it wasn't that fair either to walk around half naked. She was not going to show anything more than necessary until she was ready to act on it and acknowledge the look he had yesterday meant what she wanted or was decided on never wanted anything with Gilbert Blythe.

When she found her note exactly at her eye level, she knew Gilbert had not only seen it, but left it there on purpose. As if it was more a reminder for her than an apology for him. She ignored it and looked for the milk and the things she needed to prepare a nice breakfast to somehow compensate for her awful behaviour.

Gilbert turned off the shower and heard her busying around in the kitchen. He had left his clothes on the sofa, as he hadn't really counted on her being awake. He was fully prepared for another spell of Anne locked up in his room, not one of Anne waking up extra early. Oh well. Too bad for her.

"Morning," he said as he crossed the kitchen's threshold. Anne looked up, flushed brightly and looked back down to the cutting board. He noticed how uncharacteristically covered she was but didn't say anything else as he went to the living room and put on his pants. She could cover all she wanted. He was not buying it and, what's more, he decided to make her squirm as much as she had these past few days. Only he did know how to maintain control, he thought as he remembered the day she had given her the massage. He went back to the kitchen still drying his hair with the towel, but fully dressed now.

"Slept well?" she asked, hopeful, her cheeks still rosy. The island had coffee, some toast with some fresh fruit cut up on top and another one with hummus and avocado.

"Very well, thank you," he replied. She looked to the floor, uncomfortable. "That looks delicious, Anne. Thank you."

"You're welcome…" she said, sitting next to him. She seemed awfully uncomfortable. "Gil… I'm sorry," she said finally.

"What for?" he asked, as if somehow it wasn't evident. He wanted her to spell it.

"For… yesterday, in general," she replied, even more flushed.

"And in particular?" he pushed. If he had gone to run more than ten km, swam three and done countless rounds of whatever crossed his mind, she had to say something else. Be as specific as his mind had been. She looked at her dish in silence. "Anne?" she was even redder now, and he had thought that was impossible.

"For winding you up," she finally said, her voice utterly low, her eyes still on the crumbs of her dish. He reached for her hand and squeezed it for a second before retiring it.

"Don't worry. Thank you for the note. Is there a defined timeline to accompany it, or…?" he prompted, testing the waters. She laughed.

"No timeline. I'm sorry about that."

"Let me know when you do, then," he said, because he would hang on to that. In the hope she would actually acknowledge what her body seemed to be screaming.

"Yup," she conceded. "I wanted to ask you… the boxes are driving me mad," Gilbert looked at her. That wasn't a question.

"I've told you, unpack whatever you wish, do as you want around here," he said, as she wasn't elaborating.

"Well, yes. Thank you. But there are some things that are not really to unpack. They're…"

"I know. You explained before. But there again, you've been here about three months. You don't have any plans to move any time soon. You even have health insurance here and you've been applying for jobs in the area. I'm not telling you to stay indefinitely if you don't want to, but at the very least make yourself at home. Change things as they please you, move stuff around, push them to the end of the closet if you want them out of sight, whatever. I don't mind, I'm sure anything you do will be an improvement," he explained as she went silent again. She bit her lip. "I want you to feel good here, Anne."

"Thank you, Gil," she said. She'd had an idea nagging her for weeks now. "How come you don't have any plants?"

"Well, the best thing about inheriting an orchard is that the trees are already grown. And then you find yourself with a great family that manages not to kill the trees. I have the blackest thumb ever, Anne. You should know that" she laughed, suddenly remembering a highschool experience. Gilbert smiled. "I'm pretty sure you know how to care for them, so if you want, we can get some."

"Really?" she looked like a kid who had been promised ice cream. "But where…?"

"Nurseries opened at stage 1. So we can go on Thursday, when I have a free day."

"We will! It's a plan! But how come nurseries are open and stylists aren't?" she was beaming, as if Christmas had come early, but still managed to sneak her comment about his hair.

"Mysteries of life in this province," he answered, because he didn't understand it either.

"Can I cut your hair now? Please? I promise it will look good," she insisted. "You do look like a mess. And I could bet I'm not the only one who has said something. You're a doctor, you're supposed to be… formal and dignified."

"Formal and dignified?" Gilbert repeated, his eyebrows going up in amusement. He was not going to tell her how his hair was starting to become a theme in the staff room.

"Well, yes," Anne replied, as if it was obvious, pulling down the sleeves from his hoodie, feeling uncomfortable under his gaze. "You dress in those horrible things, the least you could do is have a proper haircut. Patients must think you're still a resident."

"They do not think I'm a resident. They have uniforms. And my scrubs are…" he couldn't say nice exactly. Because he agreed with Anne, they were horrible things, but just so convenient. Maybe he should listen to Fred and start dressing in regular clothes with just his white robe on top.

"Appalling? Dreadful?" Anne proposed. He sighed.

"Cut away. But I'm telling you, if I end up with a buzz cut, you're in trouble," he said, resigned. She made some sort of happy noise and went for a towel and her scissors. "What's that?" Gilbert asked when she arrived.

"You didn't think I would cut your hair with the kitchen scissors, did you?" he shrugged, uncomfortable. He didn't know anything and wanted the whole thing just to be over.

"So, what do I do?" he asked. She laughed. He almost had a pout.

"Smile, for starters, here we go with the before photo!"

"There are not going to be photos of this, Anne! No photos!" If he was going to endure a haircut by Anne, there would be no registry of any of it. He was already not going to live it down at the hospital.

"Yes photos! You told me to document my day! This will be the highlight of it, I can just tell! So smile or you're going to appear pouting and then you'll endure Fred's comments!"

"Fred's comments?"

"Well, yes, he comments every photo I post," Anne explained, as if it was obvious. Gilbert groaned in utter frustration. Why had he introduced them to each other? "So, smile!" she said, her phone in front of them for a selfie.

He appeared with an uncomfortable pout. She laughed. She was mean.

She put the towel on his shoulders and was about to begin when Gilbert spoke.

"Don't you have to wetten it first?"

"Who's in charge? Me. And no, I don't have to. You have curly hair, dummy. Look ahead," she said. "I'm not cutting much, so relax. Just trying for it to make sense." He did try his best to stay still and look ahead, trying to minimize the damage. Plus, looking ahead and concentrating on a spot of the floor gave him something other to think of other than how her hands felt on his head as she combed her fingers through his hair and….

"Are you cutting it or not?" he asked, frustrated. He was already in pain. He didn't want to repeat yesterday's feat.

"Yes, yes, relax, Gilbert," she said. She was actually enjoying touching his hair, as always, and this was between the new boundaries she had just set for herself. She was cutting his hair, so she had permission to touch him. She started snapping away, turned to look at him, snapped some more. Took a photo of him with his eyes closed and a pained expression. "Gilbert, honestly, it's only hair. You're so vain."

"I'm not vain, I just prefer longish hair to asymmetrical hair."

"Have some trust in me? Please?" she asked him. He nodded slightly. He had some, hence he sitting there. In pain. Because his muscles were sore because of her and now on top they were tense because of her. Anne would be the death of him. She stopped for a moment and he opened his eyes tentatively. "I'm not done yet, I'm just checking…" she said, and started taking his hair in sections to see if they were all the correct length. Finally she was satisfied. "Ok, let me take this off," she said. "Don't stand up and don't go to the bathroom! I don't want you spreading hair all over the place. Wait a second and I'll sweep."

"May I at least have a look?"

"Oh yes! After selfie! That way I get the three pictures!"

"Which three? And no after selfie, it was enough with the first one you took," he said, stretching to grab his phone.

"The process one? So funny. Your pained look as if it actually hurt," she said, grabbing his phone before him and putting it in her pocket so he wouldn't use his camera to watch the result and spoil the effect. "Ok, smile for the camera! I'll take you one so you can look and then we take a selfie. It's the price you have to pay," she said. He rolled his eyes. There was no way getting out of this. She snapped a couple of pictures of him alone from different angles and then stood next to him. "Ready?" she asked, turning the camera. He looked curiously at the screen. It actually didn't look half bad. He sighed relieved and could actually half smile when she took the picture, posing with the infamous scissors. "Here, look. And don't erase anything, I can just retrieve them if need be."

He scrolled through them. She actually did know how to cut hair. It was probably the best haircut he'd had in years… Then he arrived at the pictures she had snapped while cutting his hair. Even if they were hilarious…

"You're not seriously publishing any of this, are you?"

"Of course I am," she said, dumping in the trash can the last of the mess. "Now, I would recommend you shower so you're not itchy the whole day with the stray hairs, but it's up to you."

"But I just showered!" he said.

"Up to you, Gilbert, as I said," she insisted. He went to shower.

Notes:

Well, what do you think? We're not ones to give much out... we don't want to spoil the story. But we can say this, at the very least: at least Anne is determined to figure it out?