That's actually really, really hot. And Ange consciously realises the fact that this thought is shooting through her mind the moment he speaks up, his words challenging, forward - Ange's usually the one who's forward as all hell in every single friendship or other bond she's had in her life, so to have someone say something like that to her is different.
But in a good way. The kind of way that makes her freeze for a moment, that makes her heart beat just a little faster. Like hell she'll admit to the fact that she likes not always being the one taking actions, but it flashes across her face for a moment anyway with the way she stares at him.
Of course it means she can't just leave it at that though. It feels too much like letting him (and somewhere deep down she can't help but wonder how this somehow became a competition, one way or another).
Ange stands up, and even though her heart is practically pounding itself out of her chest at the thought (what if she doesn't do it right, what if her behaviour for the situation is weird, she's too inexperienced with this stuff), she grabs his collar when she's standing there. Her face moves a little closer to his own, although she doesn't kiss him the way he had just now. ]
Don't think you get to decide.
[ God. She manages to say it fairly convincingly, but her heart is pounding so hard that it makes her legs shake a little. Ange doesn't know what it is - usually she has zero trouble with this kind of behaviour, but somehow it feels much harder when she likes him.
Love is hard. Social relationships are the worst.
Tugging on the fabric of the collar, she drags him into the direction of the couch. ]
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That's actually really, really hot. And Ange consciously realises the fact that this thought is shooting through her mind the moment he speaks up, his words challenging, forward - Ange's usually the one who's forward as all hell in every single friendship or other bond she's had in her life, so to have someone say something like that to her is different.
But in a good way. The kind of way that makes her freeze for a moment, that makes her heart beat just a little faster. Like hell she'll admit to the fact that she likes not always being the one taking actions, but it flashes across her face for a moment anyway with the way she stares at him.
Of course it means she can't just leave it at that though. It feels too much like letting him (and somewhere deep down she can't help but wonder how this somehow became a competition, one way or another).
Ange stands up, and even though her heart is practically pounding itself out of her chest at the thought (what if she doesn't do it right, what if her behaviour for the situation is weird, she's too inexperienced with this stuff), she grabs his collar when she's standing there. Her face moves a little closer to his own, although she doesn't kiss him the way he had just now. ]
Don't think you get to decide.
[ God. She manages to say it fairly convincingly, but her heart is pounding so hard that it makes her legs shake a little. Ange doesn't know what it is - usually she has zero trouble with this kind of behaviour, but somehow it feels much harder when she likes him.
Love is hard. Social relationships are the worst.
Tugging on the fabric of the collar, she drags him into the direction of the couch. ]