I'm 19 years old. My baby boobs and eyes look right into your soul. You don't mind, do you?

You notice her petite frame first — small, soft, and impossible to look away from.

You feel something pull behind your chest when those eyes lock onto yours, direct and unblinking, like they already know what you're thinking. You want to look away but can't. You take in the gentle curve of her chest, barely there and completely disarming, the kind of softness that makes your hands feel restless.

You realize she's not asking permission — you're the one who needs it. You stay exactly where you are, caught, willing, and very aware of every breath you're taking.