Eason stepped closer, so close that there was barely an inch between us. When I tilted my head up slightly, I could see his Adam’s apple moving.
There were no more words, but the air felt heavy and charged.
It was as if I was being pulled in.
As he leaned in, I felt something inside me snap, and I was frozen, watching him intently.
His lips brushed against mine, but at the last moment, he suddenly rested his chin on my shoulder, his ears turning red.
In a low, husky voice, he murmured, “Don’t look at me like that, Viola.”
…
After that night, my relationship with Eason was in this vague, unspoken limbo.
One evening, we were snuggled on the couch, watching a movie. I picked something at random without much thought.
On the projector, the characters started getting more intimate, their soft moans filling the quiet room, making everything feel oddly charged.
I used the excuse of needing to use the bathroom but ended up bumping into Eason's chest as he stood up abruptly.
His eyes seemed deeper, more intense.
“You...”
“I’m just going to the bathroom,” I said, and quickly went in.
As I closed the door, I glanced back and saw Eason’s ears were red, his eyes cast down, focused on something.