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Summary
San let out a low whistle, reaching out a hand to smooth Wooyoung’s flyaways. "Bless your heart, honey. I think you and Hongjoong are the only people unaware that you’re in love with each other."
Wooyoung short circuited. She imagined her brain as a tumbleweed, blowing across a barren desert before it rolled into a highway and got run over by at least twenty-five cars. SPLAT! Her mangled mind ran in circles trying to decipher San’s word choices: Hongjoong, in love, each other, unaware.
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Bookmark Notes:
Hongjoong kept their bodies close even when she pulled away, her hands now clasped over Wooyoung’s hips. Her face was flushed pink, her hair tousled from Wooyoung’s wandering, wanting hands—Wooyoung wondered if she could ever look at Hongjoong again and not want to live inside of her, parasitic without the hurt.
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Bookmark Notes:
i want hongjoong carnally.