Arnold Simmons finally answered her previous question, "Yeah, I like orange-flavored ones too."
Hannah blinked, the innocence and purity in her eyes were sweeter and more seductive than fruit candy, and even her voice was soft and fluffy, "Arnold, do you want to try an orange-flavored candy again?"
The window was open, and the air, sowhat hot during the day, blew into the room, causing several fruit candies casually placed on the table to roll a few tis, then land on the soft carpet.
It seed even the air had taken on a sweet orange scent.
She liked to tempt him, ever since their first eting.
He used to pretend to be indifferent, but now he wished it could be like that every mont.
Listening to the soft words in his ear, Arnold couldn’t help but cough lightly, his voice husky, "Yes."
The girl smiled, mysteriously beginning, "Then close your eyes first."
Arnold didn’t think twice and obediently did as told.
The slightly pursed lips were a clear sign of a good mood.
A mont later, what he received wasn’t a soft and sweet touch on his lips, but a fruit candy so sweet it was almost cloying.
Upon opening his eyes, he t the girl’s sparkling eyes, holding her cheeks like a child, "Arnold, is it tasty? It’s the last one; I saved it for you."
When she spoke of it being the last one, there was a hint of reluctance in her voice, and sadness in her eyes.
She was tricking soone again.
Arnold reached out, pinching her pouted red lips, "Little liar."
She muttered under his fingertips, her voice muffled, "I’m not."
An orange-flavored candy was just that, an orange-flavored candy, what else could it be?
She fluttered her eyelashes, the ssage in her eyes clear.
Arnold, exasperated beyond words, slid his fingertip down, grasped her chin, and his lips took over from his finger to re-capture hers.
Soft, mushy, and sweet.
It tasted even better than the orange-flavored fruit candy.
Outside the window, the sky had darkened.
In October, the weather was gradually becoming cooler. As night fell, the wind rustled through the distant shrubs, occasionally shaking loose dry leaves, and an unidentifiable yellow flower peered out from among the leaves, looking up at the hazy moonlight.
The air, previously dry, now dropped several raindrops the size of soybeans; the intensity of the rain disturbed the peace of the night.
Hannah ca out from the bathroom, freshly bathed, with moisture still clinging to her body, and her hair half-dried. She leaned against Arnold’s shoulder from behind.
Arnold was wearing glasses, browsing a docunt in his hands.
To be precise, it was a file about so land in the southern part of the city.
Hannah couldn’t quite understand it, but thinking Arnold must find it quite good, she asked, "Is this project a good one?"
Her head lowered, the beads of water from her half-dried hair slowly gathered at the tips, eventually dropping and spreading a mark on the man’s white shirt.
"Not really," Arnold shook his head, casually closed the file, tossed it aside, then pulled her into his arms and skillfully grabbed a towel beside him to dry her undried hair.
Hannah cozily nestled in his arms, picked up the tossed-aside docunt, flipped through it casually, then placed it back.
She didn’t understand it, nor was she particularly interested.
The chilling autumn air made the night, even with the window closed, still a bit cold inside the room.
Arnold was warm, and Hannah was more than happy to curl up in his arms. Even after her hair was dried, she didn’t leave but instead snuggled back in even more.
She was feeling languid and suddenly recalled sothing exciting, "Arnold, I’ve earned so money."
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