Leo couldn't believe how the baby seemed to have it out for him. Everyone else could shower the little guy with kisses and he'd be fine, but the second Leo's lips touched him, the baby would start wailing like Leo was the worst person ever. Seriously, what was the deal?
To make matters worse, Anya’s comments only added fuel to the fire.
Grabbing Anya’s index finger, Leo forced her to hold up her hand in the bustling campus. He brushed her fingertip across his lips, back and forth, asking, "Are my lips dry? Chapped? Any flaking?"
His barrage of questions left her tongue-tied and too scared to speak the truth. Her fingertips felt the warmth of his lips, and her cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink.
Being his usual intimidating self, Leo pressed on, "Anya, I asked you a question. If I don’t like your answer, you'll be taking cabs to school from now on."
Feeling cornered, Anya muttered, "No, they're not dry, not chapped, no flaking."
"See, that wasn't so hard," Leo said, releasing her finger and taking her hand instead. He led her away to say goodbye to the family of three.
Mia watched Anya being pulled away by Leo and then glanced at her son in her arms, breaking into laughter once again.
Andre, amused by his son's indifference to Leo, chuckled softly.
Back in the car, Andre placed the little guy on the steering wheel and leaned over to plant a kiss on his son's cheek, curious to see if he would cry.
The baby, perched atop the steering wheel, was initially bewildered by the unfamiliar feeling—it wasn’t the softness of his bed or the warmth of his parents' embrace. The little one, vigilant against new sensations just like his father, eyed Andre warily.
But after receiving his father's kiss, the baby's limbs flailed with excitement and joy. He even let out a couple of happy "ahh ahh" sounds, eager to continue the conversation with his dad.
"Look at that, getting all excited over a kiss from dad, huh?" Mia teased, poking the baby's cheek and saying to Andre, "You don't always have to be so stern, you know. You love your son to bits, and a kiss every now and then won't hurt. Look how thrilled he is."
Andre, feeling a bit guilty for his special treatment, held his son close, showering him with affection.
"We're boys; too much mush isn't good."
"You’re wrong; he's not just a boy, he's a baby."
Meanwhile...
Anya found herself being tugged back into the car by Leo, who hadn’t forgotten her earlier comment. "Tell me the truth, Anya. Are my lips really dry?"
Anya was torn between the fear of losing Chad’s rides to school and the discomfort of lying. In a moment of inspiration, she found a middle ground, "Chad, fingers usually have thicker skin than the face, which is more delicate. Even if I didn’t feel your lips being rough, it doesn’t mean someone's face wouldn’t."
Leo, the epitome of a straightforward guy, couldn’t grasp her implied meaning and even contemplated her words skeptically, "What are you saying, that I should kiss you to find out if my lips are rough?"
Anya’s face instantly turned beet red, "No, no, that’s not necessary."
"What’s got you stammering?" asked the clueless Leo.
Her blush deepened, clearly overwhelmed.
Leo glanced at her flushed face and then away, resting his right arm on the door and casually draping his left over the steering wheel. It took him a while to catch on to what Anya was implying.
So she was hinting at his dry lips after all.
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