Minamoto Tamako clung tightly to Fushimi Roku's left arm, her deliberately widened almond eyes glistening. A fine sweat was forming on her nose tip, and she bit her lower lip until it turned slightly pale, looking like a little kitten pretending to be pitiful.
Fushimi Roku's suspended right hand froze in mid-air, his gaze sweeping over Tamako's trembling eyelashes. His Adam's apple moved half an inch, his earlobe turning a suspicious shade of pink.
Gotcha!!
Tamako was secretly delighted, shaking Fushimi Roku's arm while constantly acting cute, saying, "Please, please"; while Fushimi Roku himself seemed possessed, clutching the game piece without moving, appearing completely captivated by Tamako.
Hehehehe…
Tamako's thoughts were all over the place, imagining Fushimi Roku being so smitten with her that he couldn't take his eyes off her, then wondering what kind of victory speech she should give. A smile began to creep up her face.
