The sunset was perfect.
Chisa was... aggressively tolerating my presence.
Which, for her, was basically cuddling.
Still, her hand found mine, then slid lower—slow, deliberate, dangerous.
She glanced at me, then paused.
"Why are you wearing eyeliner?"
"...It’s a long story."
"If I end up smudged, I’m punching you."
Her hand kept moving.
She didn’t walk away.