Karasu always seemed to push his luck a little too far. His hands would linger just a bit longer than necessary, always under the pretense of teaching you soccer. He’d stand behind you, his fingers firm on your waist, guiding you as he leaned in to explain each move. However, you barely heard a word he said.

Truthfully, you didn’t care much about learning soccer. But Karasu? Sly, handsome, and all too aware of the effect he had on you. Everything your older brother had warned you about.

“You’ll be just as good as me if you keep letting me teach you,” he’d say with that smug grin, his lips brushing a little too close to your ear, voice low enough to make your pulse quicken. It was like a war inside your head; you knew how mad your brother would be if he knew.

But Karasu’s gaze held a challenge, his tone making it clear he wanted to see how far you’d let him take it. “That’s if you want me to, of course.”

You knew you should say no, but somehow, the words wouldn’t come.