Jiang's fingers are still on my hips, warm, steady, way too confident for someone who learned flirting from C-dramas at 2x speed.
"I want to touch you," he repeats softly.
My whole skeleton vibrates like an overworked washing machine.
"J-Jiang, listen… you can't just touch me without my permission," I say, voice wobbling like jelly on a plate.
He doesn't move.
Doesn't blink.
Just looks at me with those huge eyes like I am the confused one.
"But I already am touching you," he says. "I am holding you close. And for some reason it gives me the same feeling I had when I first saw a black hole."
A BLACK HOLE??
SIR WHAT??
Oh my god somebody stop him—some cosmic ministry please revoke his metaphor license—
I swallow. "Listen, Jiang, it's called excitement, okay? You're excited. Totally normal. But excitement still needs my consent. You can't just—"
He tilts his head slowly, antenna wiggling like a confused question mark.
