Some time later…
“Let go, Troy! Why are you like this?” I slapped the hand that was acting like an octopus for who knows how many times. It's nine in the evening, where are you rushing off to, and we're still in the kitchen. As he said from the start, he was going to teach me how to make vegetable salad, which is a ridiculous thing to teach during relaxation time.
Tomorrow is a holiday; couldn't he teach me then?
“I'm just holding your hand so you can apply the right pressure,” Troy said, but the problem wasn't the hand holding mine; it was the other hand caressing my waist and hips. He even rested his chin on my shoulder. I don't want to make vegetable salad anymore; I have other things in mind. Oh my, what did I just say? Haha.
“Get your left hand off my hip.”
“No, my hand is free.
