“I don’t — know how,” she confessed. The accompanying laugh was bitter. “Apparently I want too much, I’m … clingy.” She realised she was holding on to Ace’s shirt, and let go, hastily. Colour stained her cheeks, and she looked up at him. “You’re still holding me,” she said, low.
“You’ll learn.” Ace’s tone was unusually soothing.
At the next part, Ace pursed his lips. Allison was the same way. But Ace didn’t care none — he felt, at the very least, relief she didn’t grow tired of him.
Of course, she did, eventually, but.
“I thought that’s what you wanted,” he said, looking down at her, color creeping on his cheeks despite the scowl on his face and confusion in his tone.
“I-I did. I only,” she swallowed hard, “I thought you didn’t like touch. C-casual touch.” They were both blushing, and she couldn’t tear her gaze from his. Her lips parted, and she whispered, “I expected you to refuse. Why didn’t you?”