Initially, she felt at ease, but a sense of unease crept in.

Pushing him slightly away, she questioned, “Is this toothpaste fake? The scent is nauseating.

Sensing her discomfort, Dylan ceased his advances.

“I’m okay,” Olivia insisted, her arms around him, a show of strength.

He chuckled at her boldness, marveling at her lack of inhibition.

It was a moment of rare intimacy, founded on trust and companionship rather than mere physicality.

Olivia believed she loved Dylan, yet their encounter left her feeling suffocated, a wave of nausea washing over her.

Dylan’s hand

leaned into him, blaming the toothpaste

remarked, “That store

joke, but as reality sunk in, her smile faded, her

her voice

cared deeply for him, yearned to build

true- What would she do? And what about

within him, a

embrace

to be scared, Olivia,” he murmured, his touch

confessed, her voice trembling with

a hoarse whisper, he reassured her, “We’ll get

to his sleeve, seeking solace

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