As soon as Marco pulled back, Leni froze.
For half a second, all she could do was blink at him—eyes wide, lips still tingling from the kiss she hadn't expected but hadn't wanted to end.
And then, just as quickly, her entire face flushed red. Not just pink, red. Fire-engine, heat-rushing-to-her-cheeks red.
Without a word, she buried her face in her hands, letting out a small, muffled sound that was somewhere between a squeak and a groan.
Marco blinked, surprised, and then—slowly—he chuckled.
A soft, low sound. The kind that felt like it came from his chest, warm and amused but never mocking.
"Enny…" he murmured, wrapping his arms around her again, "what are you hiding from?"
She didn't respond—just shook her head, fingers pressed hard against her cheeks as if she could will the blush away with sheer force.
Marco rested his chin gently on her shoulder, letting his voice drop into something tender. "You always get this flustered when a guy kisses you in a library, or is it just me?"
"You," she mumbled through her hands, voice so soft it barely made it out. "Definitely just you."
He smiled again, but this time there was something gentler behind it—something proud, something protective.
"I like that," he said quietly.
Her fingers finally parted just enough to peek at him, her expression still shy, still pink, but softening.
"I just…" she started, then stopped. "I wasn't expecting that."
Marco nodded. "I know." He leaned in again—not for another kiss, but to rest his forehead lightly against hers. "I wasn't planning it either."
They stayed there for a moment—no rush, no words, just heartbeats.
Then he added, barely above a whisper, "But I'm not sorry."