Justin never understood the concept of personal space.

It started small—standing a little too close during conversations, leaning in just enough to make it noticeable. Then it escalated.

Now, he was fully pressing his cheek against yours.

“You’re warm.” He murmured, voice calm like this was completely normal.

You stiffened, trying to lean away, but he followed instantly—matching your movement, cheek still glued to yours like it belonged there.

“Hold still.” He added softly. “I’m observing.”

Observing. Right.

His breath brushed your skin, steady and unbothered, like he couldn’t feel the tension radiating off you. Or maybe he could—and that was the point.