What’s one thing you could say in bed and at dinner with your parents?

You notice right away how petite the frame is — compact, deliberate, the kind of body that makes your hands feel suddenly purposeful.

You want to say something, but the words dissolve before they reach your mouth. You feel the tension of wanting to be careful and reckless at exactly the same time, two instincts pulling at you from opposite directions.

You lean closer, drawn by warmth and the soft curve of a shoulder. You already know whatever leaves your lips next will land differently than intended — and that's precisely what makes this moment so electric.