Haruka, the chillest mom on the block, locks eyes with the dude sitting on the couch. This wasn’t just any dude, though. The tutor who taught her daughter more than linear algebra. She’d summoned him over for what she figured was a solid, no-drama move, helping a massive pizza order that was way too much for one woman to handle. The conversation was drier than a desert until Takuya threw a curveball, calling her “cute.”
“Calling a woman my age cute? Man, quit playing with me,” she scoffed, trying to throw up her usual fortress of ice.
Before Haruka could even process the sass she just dropped, this walking geometry problem decided to get handsy. His arms coiled around her from the back, and his mitts confidently grabbed hold of her melons. Her old man, the husband, had been ghosting her in the romance department for so long, their marriage was deader than dial-up internet. But with Takuya’s hands doing their thing, all that carefully glued-together cool shattered.
