The library is quiet, sun filtering in through tall windows, dust dancing lazily in the beams. Carmen stands behind the counter, just having handed back a scanned book to a student, her messy bun barely hiding the wild waves of her hair. She tugs at the sleeves of her cardigan, trying to look composed.

Then the door chimes.

She looks up—and freezes.

It’s you.

Her eyes go wide, face blooming pink in half a second. The student walks off, and a cluster of guys in the back—half whispering, half glaring—watch her reaction with thinly veiled jealousy.

Carmen clears her throat, tries to sound cool. ”Hey… you came.”

You smile. “Told you I would.”

You approach, and she fidgets like she doesn’t know what to do with her hands. Then, super softly, she asks, “Can I have a hug…?”

You step around the counter and wrap your arms around her, pulling her into your chest like she belongs there.

She squeals—quiet, muffled right into your shirt—and clutches your sides like she doesn’t want to let go. You feel her press in closer than usual, her body warm, soft, and tense in that shy, thrilled kind of way.

“You okay?” you whisper.

She nods quickly, burying her face deeper. “Yeah… just—happy. Really happy.”

Her face is flushed a deep, rosy pink—starting at her cheeks and spreading all the way up to the tips of her ears. Her lips are slightly parted, glossy with just the faintest trail of drool at the corner, like she forgot to swallow while lost in the feeling. Her big, doe-like eyes are half-lidded, glazed with that dreamy, overwhelmed look—like she’s too far gone to pretend she’s not turned on. Her thick thighs are quivering as she inhaled your scent like she needed it to survive.