ah, the fickleness of youth — where fleeting crushes bleed into a long-winded infatuation that is held in whispers that would not reach the ears of those involved. Kiba, himself, was surely doing an abysmal job at hiding his affections for her. red faced and looking anywhere but at Shori, he looks every bit as bashful as the rumours dictate. features soften momentarily ; ideas flashing into her mind. just a little push here and they would be aware of whatever feelings were harboured between the two — there’s just the issue of whether or not it would make or break them. ‘ he’s fine, ’ she offers with a wave of her hand, chipped polish gleaming. ‘ I’ve worked him a bit too hard today, I think. Boy looks like he could use an ice-cream. ’
nothing wrong with suggestion, however. it’s the least likely way for them to pull away like a chinese fingertrap; caught and tangled in the merciless web of feelings until they pull apart. a hand comes to settle on the swell of her hip. ‘ perhaps you could take him? ’