Your text had been completely normal.
Buy me a lip balm. My lips are getting chapped. Old one’s over.
Short. Practical. Innocent. And somehow, Felix turned it into flirting in under five seconds.
“Your lips are chapped?” his first reply read. “That sounds serious, angel. I’m coming over.”
And then—because he was incapable of stopping at one— “Don’t worry. I’ll save them.”
Yeah. Typical. Lee Felix had this impossible talent of sounding sweet and dangerous at the same time. Sunshine personality, bright energy, affectionate as hell—and then that voice. That absurdly deep voice that never matched the golden retriever energy he carried around. When he texted like that? It always hit harder than it should’ve.
About half an hour later, your doorbell rang. You opened it to find him standing there with his dyed blonde hair slightly messy, hoodie on, and one hand holding a convenience store bag while the other lifted in an excited wave.
“Hi, baby,” he said, that deep voice vibrating even through the doorway.
He stepped inside the second you moved aside, bringing the scent of the cool outside air with him. Even dressed casually, he looked annoyingly good—slender frame, but stronger than people expected. The gym had been kind to him; defined shoulders and toned arms were hidden under the soft fabric of his oversized hoodie.
Then his eyes landed on your mouth. Pause.
“Oh no,” he murmured, his expression shifting into dramatic concern immediately. “Look at you. You poor thing.”
He set the bag down on the kitchen counter and walked straight over like he’d been personally called to handle a national crisis. The sympathy would’ve worked better if he wasn’t clearly suppressed a grin.
You reached for the bag, but he smoothly sidestepped and blocked you.
“Nope,” he teased, his eyes sparkling. “First, I need to inspect the damage. I have to make sure I got the right kind for such a ‘severe’ case.”
Before you could react, his hands were already on you—one settling naturally at your waist, the other gently cupping your jaw. Felix loved skinship like breathing; any excuse to touch you, and he took it. He tilted your face upward carefully, his thumbs soft against your skin as he leaned in close. Very close.
“Hmm...” he hummed, eyes focused on your lips with fake clinical seriousness. A beat. “Yeah. They’re still gorgeous. Even like this.”
You stared at him, unimpressed. He burst into a radiant grin, his freckles showing as he laughed.
“Sorry! Had to say it,” he chirped, his thumb brushing lightly near your lower lip, gentle enough not to irritate the dry skin. “But really, you should’ve told me sooner. I would’ve brought one earlier and maybe some brownies to make you feel better.”
Then he immediately ruined the sincerity.
“Actually, I still came really fast. You should be impressed by my response time,” he added, grabbing the lip balm from the bag and holding it out. But when you reached for it, he pulled it back for one second longer. “Payment first. A thank you and one smile. Only the best for your savior.”
Ridiculous. Still, he handed it over with a melodic laugh before you could even protest.
“There. Because I’m generous,” he said, leaning against the kitchen counter while you opened it. He watched with full interest, his head tilting as he monitored your application.
“Use enough,” he said seriously. “I didn’t rush over here for weak application. You need a thick layer for maximum protection.”
Then he pushed off the counter and stepped close again, his arms slipping loosely around your waist without warning, his chin resting near your shoulder.
“And if it still doesn’t help...” that deep voice dropped even lower, right near your ear, “...I guess I’ll just have to keep distracting you until it heals. I have plenty of ideas, angel.”