Mark was already seated in his usual spot near the back of the lecture hall, his notebook open, trying to focus on the professor's droning voice. He hadn't slept well, his thoughts kept drifting.
Just as the professor launched into a detailed explanation of macroeconomic theory, the classroom door creaked open. Ron, his usual grin plastered on his face, scanned the room for an empty seat. Catching Mark's eye, he sauntered over, his backpack slung over one shoulder.
"Mind if I crash here?"
"Least you could do is be on time," Mark grumbled scooting over.
"Traffic," Ron explained with a shrug. "You know how it is."
"Yeah, sure," Mark said, rolling his eyes. Ron's definition of "traffic" usually involved hitting the snooze button one too many times.
They settled in. Or at least Ron did, flipping open his notebook and grabbing a pen, his expression intent as he pretended to follow the lecture. Mark's attention, though, kept snagging on every rustle of paper, every cough, every … well, pretty much everything except the professor's droning voice.
"So," Ron whispered, nudging Mark with his elbow, "Ria, huh? Didn't see that coming."
"What? How did you…?"
"Dude, you two are like… the talk of the campus. Everyone's buzzing about it."
"Seriously? It's not even that big of a deal."
"Oh, it's a big deal," Ron insisted. "You scored a date with Ria, the most untouchable girl in campus."
"It's not like that."
"Sure, sure," Ron said, chuckling. "Whatever you say, Romeo. But seriously, she's amazing. You're a lucky guy."
"You're a regular gossip columnist, aren't you?"
"Hey, it's a talent," he says, patting Mark on the back. "But I'm serious, you two seem great together. People have been asking me about you guys constantly."
"Great," Mark muttered, sinking lower in his seat. "Just what I need. More attention."
"Hey, a little fame never hurt anyone. Besides, you deserve it. You've been flying solo for too long. Time to enjoy the perks of a high-profile relationship."
"I'm not sure Ria sees it that way."
"Give her time," Ron winked. "She'll come around."
Mark chuckled, shaking his head.
They settled into an easy chat, half-tuning out the lecture, their conversation drifting to upcoming exams and the latest basketball game.
Soon, the class wrapped up.
"Hey, you up for hitting The Gutter tonight?" Ron asked, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "Couple of rounds, some wings, the usual?"
The Gutter was their go-to spot, a rundown bowling alley on the outskirts of town, known for its cheap beer and questionable hygiene.
"Sorry, man. I've got plans."
"Oh, right," Ron said, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. "Priorities, priorities. Friends become second-class citizens once you're in a relationship."
"Don't be a drama queen. We'll hit The Gutter next week, I promise. And the first round's on me."
"Make it a pitcher, Romeo," Ron called over his shoulder. "And tell Ria I said hi."
Mark shook his head, chuckling as he slung his backpack over his shoulder and followed Ron out of the classroom.
"Mark, could you hold on a second?" Professor Jackson called out.
"Catch you later, man," Ron said, clapping Mark on the shoulder with a knowing grin.
Mark approached the professor's desk, a sense of apprehension creeping in. "What is it, Professor?"
"How's that paper coming along?"
Mark's mind went blank. The paper. Shit. He'd completely forgotten about it.
"Uh, yeah," he stammered, trying to sound confident. "It's going well. I've done some preliminary research, gathered some sources, and I have a rough outline."
"Good," Jackson said, nodding. "Just remember, deadline is in two weeks, and it accounts for a significant portion of your final grade."
"Got it," he replied, offering a weak smile.
He practically fled the classroom, feeling overwhelmed with everything that's been going on in his life lately.
* * *
Mark arrived at the park early, anticipation battling with a fresh wave of anxiety as he thought about Professor Jackson, about that damn paper. He scanned the area— empty benches, kids squealing on the playground, a group of dogs chasing a frisbee in the distance— all normal, comforting sights that did little to ease the knot in his chest.
No sign of Ria yet.
He pulled out his notebook, hoping to at least make some progress on his research. He'd been so caught up in the weird ass drama of … everything that he'd almost forgotten about the normal anxieties of college, deadlines, and grades. His phone buzzed— a text from Ron, something about a party on Friday— but he didn't even bother to open it. What was the point, when—
"Hey."
He looked up. Ria stood there, her cheek flushed, a sheepish grin on her lips.
She gave him a quick hug, her body warm, solid. "Sorry, I'm late."
"No worries," he replied closing his book. "Just trying to get some work done."
"Work?"
"Yah," He said, closing his notebook. "this paper for Professor Jackson's Econometrics class is a real pain. Regression analysis, statistical modeling… it's making my head spin."
"Econometrics?" She wrinkled her nose. "You sound awful. You'd think someone majoring in economics would be a little more excited about numbers."
"Hey, I'm all about marketing and strategy. Data analysis is not my domain."
"Can we please not talk about studying?"
"You're right," he smiled, stuffing his book back in bag. "So, how was your day?"
"Good, I guess. Just… exhausting."
"Rough day?"
"You could say that," she admitted. "We had this huge presentation, and let's just say it didn't go as smoothly as planned. My partner totally froze up. It was a mess."
"Tell me about it," Mark chuckled, his own paper suddenly looming. "Public speaking is not my forte either."
"Maybe we should practice together sometime. We can give each other pep talks and pretend to be each other audience."
"That's an idea I can get behind. Though I'm not sure even you can handle my awkwardness when presenting."
"Don't worry," she teased, giving him a playful nudge. "I'll coach you."
"I'll hold you to that," Mark said, his smile widening. "So, tell me more about this presentation. What went wrong?"
"Nope, Didn't I say? No more talk about studying."
"Alright, alright," he conceded. "What do you want to talk about then?"
"I have an idea."
"What is it?"
"Let's go for a walk." She gestured toward a wooded path leading to the lake, a popular spot for students looking for quiet study areas—or more private moments, given the couples he'd seen vanish into those trees. Without waiting for a response, she headed down the path, and he found himself following.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves overhead, dappling the wooded path in a mix of light and shadow. The air was filled with birdsong and the familiar scent of pine needles and damp earth.
Ria's arm slipped through his, and he looked down at her, struck by how perfectly she fit against his side. Her head brushed his shoulder. It felt… right. He tightened his grip on her hand, pulling her a little closer.
"So," she asked, her voice soft, "how was your day?"
Mark filled her in on the mundane details of his classes, the endless lectures and assignments that filled his days. Then he told her about his conversation with Ron, about how they were apparently the hottest gossip on campus.
"He's such a drama queen," he finished chuckling.
"Well, he's not… wrong. Word travels fast. My friends have been asking about you, too."
"Oh? What did you tell them?"
"That I'm…. kind of in the middle of being taken."
He grinned. "I like the sound of that."
Ria giggled. "I bet you do."
They walked in silence for a while, the path winding alongside the lake, sunlight glinting off the rippling surface of the water. The peace he usually found out here … it was gone, replaced by something more complex. He'd never felt so … content just being near someone.
It was a feeling he didn't want to let go of.
It's amazing how much things can change in a few weeks, he thought, a wave of disbelief washing over him.
Is this even real?
The thought gnawed at him, persistent as the ache in his shoulder. Lida's words— The bond can cloud your judgment —echoed through his mind. Was he falling for Ria, truly falling? Or was this just… destiny, orchestrating emotions he hadn't earned?
They reached a clearing, a small pond nestled between the trees. White water lilies floated on the glassy surface. A dragonfly, wings iridescent in the sunlight, hovered above them, then darted away. He glanced at Ria— her face upturned, those usually sharp features softened by a childlike wonder.
"Let's sit," he suggested, gesturing towards a cluster of rocks near the water's edge.
They settled onto the cool stone. Her head rested on his shoulder, a familiar weight that brought a sense of calm he hadn't realized he'd been craving. But that damn doubt— It's an illusion — lingered, persistent as the memory of those crimson tears in his dream.
He loved spending time with Ria. She made him laugh, challenged him, and saw him in a way that no one else ever had. The physical attraction was undeniable, their chemistry off the charts.
But was it genuine? Or was it all just a product of a cosmic puppet show orchestrated by fate?
He wanted to believe it was real, that his feelings for her were genuine and untainted. But doubt lingered, casting a shadow over their budding relationship.
He thought of that day in her bedroom, of the library, of the way her scent had hijacked his senses before he'd even known her name. He'd been so focused on understanding their connection, on apologizing for his behavior… but he never stopped questioning his own feelings.
And then, somehow, things had shifted. They just clicked, conversations flowing effortlessly, laughter filling empty classrooms and quiet cafes. They bonded over cheesy action movies and a shared dislike for cilantro. He found himself looking forward for their dates, craving her company, her warm smile, and the spark in her eyes.
It was hard not to like Ria—smart, funny, beautiful, with a touch of mischief that kept him on his toes.
But that nagging doubt persisted, whispering in the back of his mind: Is this real?
"Mark? What's wrong?"
Ria's voice broke through his thoughts.
"Nothing," he mumbled, trying to sound casual.
She lifted her head, her gaze searching his. "You seem stressed. Something's bothering you."
"What makes you say that?"
"You're doing that… stressed out thing."
"I am doing what now???"
"You breathe faster when you're stressed," she explained, her voice soft. "And your voice… it gets this tight, clipped tone."
"I'm not breathing faster."
She placed her hand on his chest. "Yes, you are," she said, with a playful smile. "And your heart's racing."
He wanted to deny it, to deflect with a joke, with that easy charm he usually relied on. But something in her gaze, in the genuine concern he saw there…
"Okay, maybe a little."
"What's bothering you?" Ria asked softly. "You can talk to me, Mark. You know that, right?"
He sighed, the weight of it all— this bond, his parents, that goddamn paper, Ria's scent lingering even now— threatening to crush him. He knew he couldn't keep bottling things up, especially not with Ria. She deserves better. She deserves my honesty, he admitted to himself, even if it meant laying out the messy, confusing tangle of thoughts and emotions churning inside him.
"It's just… this whole bond thing," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "It's messing with my head. I don't know what's real anymore. I don't know if … if what I feel is … me or just—" He stumbled, searching for words to describe this cosmic puppet show he felt trapped in.
His eyes met hers. "I like you, Ria. A lot. But what if it's all just an illusion? What if it fades away?"
Ria didn't answer right away. Her hand remained on his chest, the warmth of her touch a comforting counterpoint to the turmoil within him. The silence lingered, broken only by the soft sound of water against the rocks.
"I understand," she finally said, her voice soft. "It's a lot to take in. To be honest…" she hesitated, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her features, "I have those same doubts, you know."
"You do?"
"It's…. intense. Overwhelming at times. It's hard to separate what's real… and what's just this…" Her voice trailed off. "This… pull."
"But… you seem so sure," he said, confusion in his voice. "About us… About… this."
"I want to be sure. I want to believe in it. But it's scary, you know? To think that my feelings, my choices, could be influenced by something beyond my control."
"Yeah," he whispered. "Like giving up… a part of yourself."
"Exactly." She sighed. "But maybe that's what this is about, Mark. Trusting… each other? Trusting that this connection… it's leading us somewhere good."
He shook his head. "I've always been … in control of my choices. This… it feels different. Like I'm being swept along by some current I can't fight."
"I get it. But maybe letting go isn't always a bad thing. Maybe it's about surrendering to something bigger than ourselves, something that can lead us to a place we could never reach on our own."
"I don't know how you do it," he said. "You always seem … so sure of yourself, so confident."
She chuckled. "Trust me, that's far from true. I have my doubts. My anxieties… insecurities. Plenty of them."
"But—"
"Sometimes…" she cut him off, her voice soft but firm. "You just have to trust your instincts. Even when it feels like you're about to walk off a cliff. I have learned that a long time ago."
"That's easy to say when you grew up in this world. But for me, it feels like this crazy curve ball."
"Maybe… But it's worth a shot, don't you think?"
"Yeah, I … I wouldn't be here if I didn't." He still couldn't shut off his brain— those questions, those fears, whispering constantly in the background—but he was trying. He was here. "It's just… hard."
"I know," Ria said, her gaze understanding. "Sometimes I feel the same way. It's like there's this voice in my head, whispering… what if this is all wrong? What if we're not…. What if we just—"
"… screw it all up?" Mark finished, a wry smile twisting his lips.
Ria laughed, the sound light and airy. "Exactly."
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of those shared anxieties lingering in the air.
"It's weird, isn't it?" Mark said, shaking his head. "This whole soulmate thing. Like, it's 21st century, and we're supposed to believe in destiny and predetermined love?"
"Well," she countered, a thoughtful expression on her face, "people still have arranged marriages. And those seem to work out sometimes."
"Yeah, but that's different," He couldn't quite articulate why— but it felt different. "That's about families, tradition, cultural expectations. This…" He gestured between them, at the invisible thread that Lida claimed bound them together. "This is about … mystical energy connecting us to—"
"Maybe it's not that different," she said. "Think about it. Arranged marriages are based on the idea that two people can learn to love each other, right? Maybe this works the same way. It brings us together— two souls who are … meant to be intertwined— and then it's up to us to figure out the rest. Think of it just a more… intense version of that." Ria tilted her head, that mischievous spark back in her eyes. "Like a … cosmic matchmaking service, I guess."
"A cosmic what?" He laughed, amused. "That sounds even weirder."
"Not the best analogy?"
"Pretty terrible, actually." He shook his head, but couldn't suppress his grin. "But I get what you mean."
"Okay, good. Because—"
"But what if we're not compatible? What if we're not… meant to be?"
"Then we walk away." Her voice was calm, steady. "It might bring us together but the bond doesn't control us, Mark. We still have a choice. We can embrace it, or … well.. we can just walk away."
"But my aunt…" he hesitated, uncertainty creeping back into his voice. "She said that breaking a bond… it can be dangerous. For both people involved."
Ria sighed, looking at the rippling pond. "Mark, I don't know what you want me to say," she said, a hint of frustration in her voice. "I don't have all the answers. Despite what you think this whole thing… it's new for me, too."
Silence returned, heavy and uncertain. Mark stared at his hands, his thoughts a jumbled mess. It felt like standing on the edge of that cliff she'd mentioned earlier.
Was there a right answer here? A way to navigate forward without getting lost in the storm of doubts and fears?
He turned to look at Ria, her profile illuminated by the soft golden light. He remembered Lida's words: She's going through the same thing you are, Mark. Don't forget that.
Idiot!
He had been so wrapped up in his own head, in the maelstrom of doubts and what-ifs, that he hadn't even considered … her. He had bombarded her with questions, with anxieties, with his own fears, without even attempting to ease hers.
"You know," he began, a nervous laugh escaping his lips, "There's one thing about this whole… situation that's just… most absurd."
Ria drew her knees to her chest, turning to face him, her brow furrowed with curiosity. "What's that?"
"You know, like…" He winced internally, unsure how to broach the topic. "How… well, how extreme some things are?"
"Extreme?" she echoed, tilting her head. "What do you mean?"
"You know… the physical side of things." He felt like a bumbling idiot. "The intensity. It's like… my body just goes haywire. I can't… I can't seem to control it."
"Control what, exactly?"
"You know…" he stammered. "The… the… after part. It's just… it goes on forever."
"What are you talking about, Mark?"
"When we… you know…When we had sex. It's like… we don't stop. For a long time."
Ria stared at him blankly for a moment, then her eyes widened in understanding. "Oh," she said simply. "You mean… that."
"Yeah, that." He exhaled slowly. "It's… kinda crazy, right?"
"Crazy?"A smile played at the corners of her lips. "That's one way to put it."
"It's just…I-It's not exactly… normal, is it?"
She shrugged. "What's normal anyway?"
"I don't know," Mark said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "But I'm pretty sure most couples don't…" He trailed off, unable to find the words to describe the sheer physicality of it— the intensity, the way his body seemed to respond to hers with a hunger that went beyond any physical need.
"Don't what?" She prompted, a playful glint in her eye.
"Don't…. get tangled up like that, for so long."
"Oh." She laughed, the sound soft but knowing. "That's the bond, Mark. It's supposed to be … intense. Overwhelming. It's how it works."
"Seriously? It doesn't freak you out? It's like… I don't know…." He searched for a comparison that wouldn't make him sound like a hormone-crazed teenager. "It's like my body has a mind of its own. A fire hose…"
"A fire hose?" Her lips twitched in amusement. "You didn't seem to mind too much when you were buried inside me. flooding my…" She paused, those gold-flecked eyes glinting with a mischief that sent a jolt straight to his groin. "Insides."
"See, that's what I mean! You say things like that so casually." He gestured vaguely, flustered. "It's like it doesn't even faze you."
Ria simply shrugged, a playful smile dancing on her lips.
"Do you even know…..If it happens every time."
"No," she said, shaking her head. "It doesn't. As far as I know, it's something we can control. Or rather, something you can control."
Mark scooted closer. "Hmm, so I get to decide, huh?" he murmured. "When I get to fill you up?"
"Pretty much," she replied, her cheeks flushing slightly despite her earlier nonchalance.
He gently traced the line of her jaw with his finger. "Good to know."
"What are you thinking?" She breathed.
"Oh, just… ideas."
"Ideas?"
"Yeah," he said, leaning closer, his breath warm on her cheek. "Ideas about all the ways we can… explore this connection of ours."
"I thought you weren't sure about all of this," she teased.
"Yeah, well…" He started to explain, to apologize— but then he saw her— lips parted, cheeks flushed, those eyes —and all coherent thought vanished- Damn, she's beautiful "I guess some things are just… irresistible."
She laughed, light and carefree. "Right."
Mark shrugged, unable to deny the truth. He was drawn to her, pulled in by a force that was both exhilarating and terrifying. He still had doubts, still questioned the nature of their bond, but one thing was certain: he couldn't resist her.
"You know," Ria said, her voice softer now, "it's okay to be scared, Mark. This is new for both of us. We don't have to have all the answers right now. We can just… see where it goes."
"That's what scares me," he admitted. "Where it goes. What it means. What if I'm not ready for this?"
"Maybe you're more ready than you think," Ria said, brushing his cheek. "Maybe we both are. But we won't know unless we try."
He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes for a moment, savoring the warmth of her hand against his skin.
"How did you even notice that about my breathing? I didn't even realize I was doing it."
"I'm observant," she shrugged. "I notice things. Little details. It's kind of my thing."
"Like a superpower?" Mark teased, his fingers still tracing the delicate curve of her cheekbone.
"Something like that," Ria said, leaning in. "So, tell me," she continued, her voice softening, "Have you noticed anything… about me?"
Mark pondered for a moment. "You blink faster when you're thinking."
"Really?"
"Yeah, like when you're trying to solve a problem, or when you're really focused on something… like you were when you were healing my shoulder."
He demonstrated, fluttering his eyelashes rapidly. "See? Just like this."
Ria laughed, warm and genuine, erasing the last traces of tension. "You're ridiculous," she said, shaking her head.
Mark shrugged, grinning, and continued to trace her face with his fingertip, relishing the softness of her skin.
"You gonna keep doing that?"
"Do you want me to stop?" Mark paused, his fingertip tracing the delicate curve of her lower lip.
Ria hesitated— just a heartbeat— then shook her head, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. Emboldened, he leaned closer, his fingertip tracing the fullness of her lower lip— plump, slightly parted, so damn inviting…
"Your lips are so soft."
"I know."
"They're very pretty, too."
"I know," she repeated, delight dancing in her eyes.
"And they're very tasty."
Her grin was pure mischief. She parted her lips slightly, her gaze never wavering as she opened her mouth wider, a silent invitation.
His breath hitched as she took his finger into her mouth, warmth and pressure encasing him. He felt the gentle graze of her teeth against his skin. Her mouth was hot and wet.
Her tongue— surprisingly strong, teasing—swirled around his finger, exploring, and he watched, hypnotized as she sucked gently, her cheeks hollowed, her eyes never leaving his. And then— she bit down.
"Ow!" He yelped, jerking his hand back. "What was that for?"
"Just making sure you're paying attention," she replied mischievously.
"Seriously?" he rubbed his fingertip. "Ria, that hurt."
"Are you complaining about a little bite?" She scoffed, but her smile betrayed her. "You're such a baby."
"I am not!" He retorted, feigning offense. "That was a serious bite. You have sharp teeth, you know."
"Don't be so dramatic. It's barely a scratch."
"Easy for you to say," he grumbled. "You're not the one who just got attacked by a vampire."
Ria laughed. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry," she said, leaning in. She took his fingertip into her mouth, her lips brushing his skin in a soft, lingering kiss. "Feel better?"
"Maybe… a…. little."
She kissed it again— a tease, her touch lingering a moment longer. "Now?"
"Hmmm…" He hummed, pretending to consider. "Still kinda sore. Needs more … attention."
Ria leaned in, her eyes sparkling. But just as her lips were about to brush his skin again, he pulled his hand away. "Nah, not there."
"What?" She frowned, that adorable confusion making him grin.
He pointed to his lips. "Here. This is what's hurting now."
"How can your lips be hurting?"
"Referred pain, obviously," his tone serious. "Like when people have heart attacks, but it hurts in their arm, you know? Nerves."
"You're making that up," Ria said, her laughter bubbling up like a spring.
"I am not," he insisted. "The nerves….It's all connected. My finger hurts, so my lips hurt. It's science."
"You're totally making that up," she said, her laughter fading. "Referred pain from your finger to your lips? Seriously?"
He grinned, relishing her amusement— "The agony is unbearable. I might not recover." He paused, his gaze locking with hers. "Unless… a beautiful girl takes pity on me. Offers a healing kiss?"
"Nice try, cowboy." She shook her head, but a smile slipped through. "But I'm not falling for that trick."
"It's not a trick. My lips are genuinely in pain, Ria! Look it up— sympathetic resonance!!!"
"I'm pretty sure sympathetic resonance doesn't involve making out."
"Maybe you haven't read the latest research. It's groundbreaking stuff. Kissing has been certified as a cure."
"Kissing as a cure? Seriously?" She gave him that 'you're an idiot' look.
"It's a legitimate field of study. Kissing releases endorphins reduces stress, boosts the immune system… It's practically a miracle drug."
"You're full of it," she said, shaking her head, but a smile tugged at her lips.
"Only one way to find out." He raised an eyebrow, challenging her. "Ready for a… clinical trial?"
Her smile— slow, knowing— was answer enough.
She leaned in. It wasn't the desperate clash of their first kiss, not the overwhelming hunger that had consumed them in her bedroom, but something more… gentle.
He deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips, and she parted them— granting him access, and their tongues met in a slow, sensual dance.
She melted against him, her warmth a welcome contrast to the lingering cold of her magic. He could feel the curves of her body pressed against his, her heart beating a frantic rhythm against his chest.
His hands roamed, exploring— the delicate arch of her spine, the dip of her waist— needing to feel her, to anchor himself in the reality of this connection that was both exhilarating and utterly terrifying.
"Mmm," she moaned softly, tilting her head back, offering him complete access.
Mark pushed, his tongue plunging deeper, exploring the velvety warmth of her mouth with a possessive hunger. He traced her teeth, the ridges of her palate, and the silken curve of her tongue. She tasted of mint and sunshine and something uniquely hers, the warmth of her mouth spreading through him like a shot of pure magic.
He felt the heat radiating from her, the soft curves pressing against his chest, the gentle swell of her breasts teasing his senses. He was drowning in her, intoxicated by her taste, her scent, and the way she surrendered to his touch with an abandon that both thrilled and terrified him.
His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer. Her nails lightly scratched his scalp as their bodies moved together, a slow dance quickly turning into a tangle of limbs and desperate breaths. His world narrowed—her taste, her scent, the heat radiating from her skin—all that mattered.
They kissed for what felt like an eternity, lost in the intoxicating whirlwind of their desires. The world around them faded, the only reality was the heat of their bodies, the taste of their mouths, the urgent rhythm of their mingled breaths.
Then, just as the intensity reached a fever pitch, Mark pulled back slightly, his teeth grazing her lower lip. He nipped at it playfully, tugging gently until it slipped from between his teeth with a soft pop.
"Ow!" Ria exclaimed, her hand flying to her mouth. A tiny bead of blood welled up on her lip, staining the perfect pink a deeper crimson.
"What was that for?"
He grinned. "Just testing the merchandise."
Ria narrowed her eyes, her fingertip tracing the drop of blood on her lip. "There's blood," she accused, her voice a mock pout.
"Seriously? You're whining about a drop of blood? Such a baby."
"You're so childish. I barely grazed your finger."
"Ah, but revenge is sweet," he countered, his grin widening. "Just like your lips."
Ria swatted his arm. "Smooth talker," she said, rolling her eyes. "You're lucky you're cute."
"Cute? I'll have you know I'm devastatingly handsome."
"Devastatingly full of yourself, maybe."
"Hey, a guy's gotta have confidence."
"Confidence is good," Ria conceded, her smile softening. "Arrogance, not so much."
"So, where do I fall on the spectrum?"
"Hmm, the jury's still out on that one. I guess I'll have to keep observing you."
"By all means," Mark said, leaning closer, his gaze meeting hers. "Observe away."
"Such a show-off," she said, rolling her eyes. Then her expression changed. "Ow," she muttered, touching her lower lip. "That actually hurts."
"Hey, you started it."
"True," she said, her lips curving into a wicked grin. "Which means I get to finish it."
She lunged for his hand, her teeth bared.
"Hey, no fair!" He pulled his hand back, laughing as she scampered onto his lap. Damn, she was fast. And he definitely liked the view.
"This is not over, cowboy."
"Get off me, you wildcat!" He twisted, trying to dodge, his laughter echoing through the quiet woods as she nuzzled his neck, her breath tickling his skin.
"Not until I've tasted your blood!"
She continued her playful assault, nipping at his cheeks and his ears, even attempting a playful chomp on his nose. It was delicious torture— her laughter, the way her body moved against his, the scent of her hair filling his senses.
"Okay, okay, I surrender!" He gasped for breath, laughing so hard his sides ached. "Mercy!"
"Admit defeat." Ria, perched triumphantly on his lap, grinned down at him, her eyes sparkling.
"Fine, fine, you win," He raised his hands in mock surrender.
"That's better," She leaned down, her forehead resting against his. She rubbed her nose against his playfully. "You know, you're surprisingly… cuddly."
"And you're surprisingly ferocious."
"Only when provoked."
"Duly noted," He idly twirled a strand of her hair around his finger, lost in the simple pleasure of her presence.
After a while, he shifted, brushing his thumb against her cheek. "Let's go on a date."
"Another coffee shop?" She asked a playful smile in her voice.
"Nah. Something… different. Let's go out, for real. Dinner, maybe a movie."
"Where do you want to go?"
"You choose."
"Hmm…" She thought for a moment. "There's this amazing Italian place downtown. They have the best pasta."
"Sounds perfect. How about tomorrow night?"
"You're in a hurry."
He shrugged. "I just… I want to take you out. A proper date. Just you and me."
"Okay," Ria said, her smile widening. "I like the sound of that."