The fire light flickers, casting a golden glow on the boys surrounding it. I side step the two previous Greenies who roll on the ground in some sort of wrestling match to demonstrate their worthiness to be amongst the Gladers, and stop behind Minho. He sits on a log, cheering with the others who watch the real fight taking place in the ring. A glimmer of orange shines in his perfect black hair. I stretch my arm out and my fingers brush against the inky tresses, but Minho's hand shoots up and catches my wrist. I gasp and he turns to face me.

"Don't. Touch. The. Hair." His face is dead serious and I can't help but laugh. "Not funny!"

I pull my wrist free and make for his locks again, encouraged by his dramatic response. With just as much passion, Minho ducks and protects his head with his forearms, jumping up from his seat.

"Y/N!" He chastises.

"I was just trying to fix it!" Tears pool in my eyes as I laugh and hop onto his back.

"It doesn't need fixing!" Minho exclaims as he tries to wrestle me off of him while I tousle his hair. At last, he pries me off his back and holds me at arms length with a wounded expression. "You touched the hair," Minho exclaims sadly.

I laugh at his big round eyes as he fans them dramatically as though stopping the tears from ruining his mascara. "Jokes on you," he says in mock disgust. "Your hair got messed up too!"

Sure enough, when my hands fly to my head they find that my y/h/c locks are strewn in disarray. I sigh and pull the band out of the rats nest.

"Here." Minho holds his hand out for the bobble and seats me on the log. His hands stroke through the y/h/l strands, smoothing the tangles away and twisting them together into a y/h/t braid.

"Thank you," I say softly, surprised by the gentleness. "Sorry about your hair."

As if suddenly reminded, Minho runs his fingers through his hair. "You're just jealous, I know."

"Jealous?" I tease. "Of what?"

His dark eyebrows fly up. "Oh, no you did not!" Minho grabs for me and I jump up, trying to dodge his strong arms, but they wrap around my waist and pull me into him. My weight throws Minho off balance and we tumble backwards onto the log with me on top of his lap.

As the laughter subsides, I pop my legs to the side and lean into his body, my side against his chest. The fire flickers warmly, reflecting in Minho's dark eyes as I gaze into them.

"Like what you see?" His voice is tired and slightly raspy as it vibrates through his chest to my ears.

"I'd just fix one thing." I stretch my hand to tousle his hair again, but Minho catches my wrist.

"Not. The. Hair."