The first time you came over, his room hit you like a punch, walls plastered with those "posters," all those half-naked women staring down. Then you spotted them: a stack of glossy magazines, tucked a little too neatly under his bed. Just like that. The argument started. And like always you were the one to apologize, even though he's the one looking at other women.

That is always the problem with you two.

He's used to a simple kiss escalating, a hug growing more intimate. With you, however, it's different. You prefer to take things slow, which deep down he didn't get and didn't like. He even wondered if you liked him at all.

So, when you visited and his kisses started to turn into something more serious, you stop him, once again.

"Hm?" He looks at you.