[It's a powerful feeling, to be the instigator. When the two had first started working things out between them, Nanu felt uncomfortable; as if he was taking advantage of Anabel by being older than her, and an ex-mentor to boot. But it's a little like the old saying, "practice makes perfect". And in the case, 'perfect' is the sweet spot of feeling the rush of love from a simple gesture instead of guilt.]
[One lucky part of being in this world, he supposes. The rush of love takes on an atmospheric affect; the comfort of wearing a blanket, fresh out of the dryer, around yourself. Or the both of them, so close together, as it were.]
[As she moves her hand from one place to the next, settling along the side of his face, Nanu moves his other hand to her hip. While he hadn't looked around beforehand because, to him, it meant more than if he were being conscious about that sort of thing—well, he doesn't want to evolve into a(nother teenage-like) 'make-out' in the middle of the produce aisle. His first attempt to gently draw back is delayed by that delightful sound Anabel makes, instinctively prolonging the lock between them. He doesn't know it yet, but when she does that, he's too weak to deny reciprocation.]
[The second try is a few moments later, after the kiss has lingered just long enough to be far more than the ones peppered around their household. Still holding her hip and the crook of one arm, Nanu pulls back slowly, holding his face a little closer still, dusted pink. He doesn't look embarrassed, though. And he's not.]
Sorry, [HE SAYS AS THOUGH HE HAS ANYTHING TO BE SORRY ABOUT] I'm no good with words.
squints
[One lucky part of being in this world, he supposes. The rush of love takes on an atmospheric affect; the comfort of wearing a blanket, fresh out of the dryer, around yourself. Or the both of them, so close together, as it were.]
[As she moves her hand from one place to the next, settling along the side of his face, Nanu moves his other hand to her hip. While he hadn't looked around beforehand because, to him, it meant more than if he were being conscious about that sort of thing—well, he doesn't want to evolve into a(nother teenage-like) 'make-out' in the middle of the produce aisle. His first attempt to gently draw back is delayed by that delightful sound Anabel makes, instinctively prolonging the lock between them. He doesn't know it yet, but when she does that, he's too weak to deny reciprocation.]
[The second try is a few moments later, after the kiss has lingered just long enough to be far more than the ones peppered around their household. Still holding her hip and the crook of one arm, Nanu pulls back slowly, holding his face a little closer still, dusted pink. He doesn't look embarrassed, though. And he's not.]
Sorry, [HE SAYS AS THOUGH HE HAS ANYTHING TO BE SORRY ABOUT] I'm no good with words.