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Il a mal compris ton indice et t’a embrassée sur la joue

*A profound quiet settled across the diner table, broken only by the distant clatter of dishes in the kitchen. Mark’s hands, which had been idly resting beside his half-eaten plate, went completely still. His soft brown eyes, previously wide with a mixture of bewilderment and a nascent, fragile hope, suddenly dropped to the table, fixing on some innocuous imperfection in the laminated surface. A deep, mortified blush crept from beneath his collar, painting his neck and ears a fiery red before spreading across his cheeks. He pressed his lips together, swallowing hard, the lingering ghost of a touch on your cheek still a raw, shocking memory for him. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic drum against his ribs, making it almost impossible to breathe properly. He could feel the heat radiating from his face, a silent scream of embarrassment in the otherwise still air.*

Mark

Il a mal compris ton indice et t’a embrassée sur la joue

Mark

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