An hour after Claire had left to the airport, I stood in front of the full-length mirror and brushed my straightened hair, my body wrapped in a cozy bathrobe. 

Feeling excited, I reached into my closet, grabbing the hairspray can that I had purchased the previous day. With my lips pursed and my eyes half-closed, I shook the canister before spraying the temporary hair colour all over the midsection and ends of my dark hair. When I opened my eyes and focused on my reflection, I dropped the can to the floor in shock, a scream escaping my lips.

It wasn't supposed to be this shade of blue! 

The only reason that I had bought the temporary hair colour product was because it promised to turn my hair the exact shade of blue that Jason loved: turquoise. Instead, the spray had dyed several clumps of my hair in the most offensive shade of electric blue.

I turned away from the mirror, desperate to contain the panic that was building in the pit of my stomach.

It's only temporary. 

I have enough time to wash the gross colour off my hair.

Thank god, Jason isn't coming over until after his shift.

Just as I was about to head into the bathroom, the doorbell rang, making me jump out of my skin. 

Cursing under my breath, I threw on the nearest pair of underwear, jeans, and a t-shirt. I rummaged around my suitcase frantically in search of the beanie that I had brought from home.

The doorbell rang again, shrill and urgent.

Did Claire come back because she forgot something?

"Coming," I shouted, stuffing my hair into the beanie as I ran down the stairs.

When I threw the door open and found a smiling Jason, looking effortlessly cool in a simple white t-shirt and blue jeans, I screamed for the second time that morning. 

A look of puzzlement crossed Jason's face as he pushed the strap of his backpack further up his shoulder with one hand, a box of chocolates held in the other. 

"Surprise?"

***

"I thought I'd use my sick days to stay with you," Jason explained once I ushered him into the living room. "I didn't tell you because I wanted it to be a surprise."

I accepted the box of chocolates with flustered gratitude. 

"Are you okay, Leena?" Jason inquired, misreading my awkwardness. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I can come back later."

My insides twisted with guilt when I saw the confusion and hurt in his face.

"No, Jason," I breathed, stepping closer to him. "I want you to stay."

I just wish I didn't look like I had parts of Cookie Monster stuck in my hair, I thought to myself as I brushed my lips against his.

The beanie on my head shifted when we pulled apart, causing a few strands of my hair to tumble out. Before I could shove my hair back into the hat, Jason noticed the shocking blue patches. 

"What is that?" he asked, reaching towards my beanie with wide eyes.

"It's nothing," I squealed, sidestepping him quickly.

Jason laughed, the sound deep and infectious. "Why are you hiding your hair?"

As his hand extended towards me again, I gasped, pointing to the window behind him.

"Oh my god," I cried. "Look!"

Jason took the bait. While he turned around towards the window, I dashed up the stairs in a giggly panic.

"Hey," Jason shouted as he pursued me. 

By the time I reached my bedroom door, he was already at the top of the staircase. 

Damn it. He's faster than I thought.

Before I could shut myself inside the bathroom, a strong set of arms wrapped around my waist and tugged me backwards. A strangled scream escaped my throat when Jason turned me around and threw our embraced bodies across the bed. I felt his laughter reverberating through his chest as I tried to squirm out of his grip.

"Crap," I muttered as the beanie slipped off my head, strands of inexpertly dyed hair falling across my face.

The sunlight filtering in from the French windows glinted off Jason's hazel and grey eyes as he stared at my hair bemusedly. 

"It's temporary hair colour," I muttered, feeling extremely stupid. "It was supposed to be turquoise. And I obviously didn't know how to use it right. It's stupid, I know."

I looked down at Jason's white t-shirt, no longer able to meet his alluring gaze.

"Hey, it's not stupid," he said softly, tightening his hold on my body. He lifted my chin up with his fingers, forcing me to look at him. "You're beautiful, Leena Faye."

The corners of his lips lifted up in a mischievous smirk when he said, "Even when your hair looks like Cookie Monster."

"That's exactly what I thought," I echoed, laughing along with him. 

When our laughter died down, I pushed myself up to a sitting position. 

"I'm going to wash the colour off," I said. My voice was reduced to a shy whisper when I turned to Jason and asked, "Do you want to help me?"

***

Jason ran his fingers through the lengths of my hair, all the way from the scalp to the tips that grazed the small of my back. I wrapped my arms around his waist for support, my limbs weakened by his tender touch. Pressing my ear against his drenched chest, I listened to the sound of his beautiful heartbeat.

A few moments later, Jason's deep, rich voice whispered in my ear, "It's all gone."

I looked around, relieved that the soapy water pooling into the drain was no longer freakishly blue. I tipped my head to glance at Jason. His wet eyelashes somehow managed to intensify the difference of colour in his eyes.

"Thank you," I said.

He bent to kiss me -- lingering and slow -- as though we had all the time in the world.

"Best surprise ever," I mumbled against his mouth, knotting my fingers in his damp hair. 

Jason smiled, tilting his head to catch the water droplets trickling down my neck. I gasped at the sensation of his smooth lips leaving a trail of heat across my collarbone and shoulder. 

All my fears seemed to have been washed away with the hair dye as the water continued to spray on us, our hands wandering over each other's skin to places I had only dared to dream before.

***

"You don't have to talk about this if you don't want to," I reminded Jason, lacing my fingers through his.

With our backs pressed against the big glass windows, Jason and I sat on the balcony floor. The early afternoon sky was uncharacteristically dark and cloudy. It was as though the weather had chosen to match itself to the mood of the story that Jason was about to tell.

"My mom and dad were very happy together. They loved working at the same university, and they were great parents," Jason began, his eyes trained on the mighty and ominous mountain. "I always looked up to my dad because he was so strong. But four years ago, when Mom . . ."

I squeezed his fingers reassuringly.

Clearing his throat, he continued, "Four years ago, my mother got pregnant. Everybody in the family was so happy. The three of us turned one of the bedrooms in our apartments into a nursery, and we would constantly argue about potential baby names."

For the longest time, Jason watched the clouds in silence. His forehead was lined with creases as he stared straight ahead, his eyebrows furrowed. 

"But one day, Mom started screaming in pain, and she was taken to the hospital," he murmured finally. "I can't even explain what it felt like when Dad came out with the doctor and told me that it was a miscarriage. Maybe it was because I was only fourteen at the time, but it took me a while to really understand what that meant."

He took in a shaky breath before saying, "My mom's doctor told her to start seeing a therapist soon after. She was depressed, of course, but therapy was helping her stay in control of her life. It was my dad who really lost it. He started drinking. A lot. When things got really bad, he refused to get help. My parents used to fight about it all the time. I'd never seen them fight like that before."

An unpleasant, repressed memory from fourth grade resurfaced in my mind when Jason mentioned the fights between his parents. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to imagine locking the memory of my mother into a box in the deepest recess of my brain, the way I always did whenever it reared its ugly head.

"He was always drunk, upset, and throwing things. I'll never forget the way he used to reek of alcohol all the time," Jason said, closing his eyes tightly as if to ward off bad memories of his own. "He almost lost his job, he pushed all his friends away. Sometimes, he would take his car and drive off and not return for days. I would stay up all night, afraid that he won't come back. My mom tried to be strong for me, but I would hear her crying in her room almost every night."

My heart constricted at the pain in Jason's eyes.

"A few weeks later, when my grandparents intervened, and my mother threatened to file for divorce, Dad finally agreed to sort himself out," he sighed. "It took months of rehab and therapy for things to go back to normal. It wasn't the miscarriage that almost drove my parents apart. It was my father's drinking."

"And . . . that's why I decided I would never drink alcohol," Jason said, smiling weakly. "It scares me, the power it has to break even the strongest people."

Warm tears spilled from my eyes, trailing down my cheeks. Alarmed, Jason reached out and wrapped his arms around me.

"Hey, please don't cry," he whispered, holding my head to his chest. "I'm so sorry, Leena. I don't want to make you cry. Please."

I sobbed into his shirtfront as he murmured apologies and reassurances into my hair. The uncontrollable tears that flowed down my face were not just because of the pain I felt on Jason's behalf. They were tears of longing. Longing for someone that could've intervened, like Jason's grandparents had done, and stopped my parents' marriage from falling apart. 

Because I had tried -- in my own, juvenile way -- to save my family, but it hadn't been enough.