The tips of Adrian's hair were still damp, and a drop of water fell on Serena's head, spreading like ink on rice paper, soaking her black hair.
He tossed the towel over her head, lazily saying, "Send a message to that model and tell him whether I am capable or not."
He was referring to Lucas's comment, 'Men over twenty-five can't do it anymore, I'm only twenty.'
Serena looked up, her clean face revealing a transparent flawless texture under the light, pretending to be surprised: "You're over twenty-five?"
Adrian gazed at her for a while, then rubbed her head forcefully through the towel, his eyes filled with helplessness and a teasing itch: "How can you be so annoying? Sean always says you have no temper."
"You don't seem like someone who has age anxiety either." Serena laughed and buried her face in his chest, her forehead pressed against his firm warm chest, muffled laughter escaping where they touched, "Besides, I'm also over twenty-five, we're about the same."
