Warmth

The sun dazzlingly shone in the blue, like a diamond glimmering in the cerulean sea. With a light bounce, Uriel skipped his way home chewing some gum, kicking a few pebbles on the way. Despite nearing the demeaning mansion he called home, the toothy grin never once seeped away. His less than stellar report card clearly didn't bother him all too much. Good for him.

Seeing his mother, he prepared himself for the conversation mentally, aware of the next sentence.

'I'm probably getting home-schooled.'

"You're getting home-schooled."

"Meh." Uriel saw it coming anyways.

It was obvious, all things considered. She had been egging it on for the past few weeks, and this term's report card was undeniably the tipping point.

"He'll be coming to assess you in two hours. Freshen up," she finalised, flinging her full length navy dress away from her feet, walking away with unearned pride and arrogance. Pettily, he shot his gum into the air, watching it land on the bottom of her dress. Snickering, he walked away beyond happy knowing that she'd now have to get rid of the rather unflattering dress. Mature.

"Justice is served," he muttered.

Dipping his head lightly, he dashed up the stairs, hair bouncing with his springy jumps. He didn't care if he got home-schooled, it was basically the same thing, only more intimate. Sprucing himself up, he took a shower, ruffled his curly locks, and drenched himself in a warm, cinnamon scent. Checking the clock, he had just over an hour left. A cheeky grin overtook his face, once he realised how he could pass his time.

He plopped himself on the bed, hurriedly pulling the headset on. Appearing in his new reality, he bounced out of Erin's bed, teleporting to Erin's location.

Appearing out of nowhere, Erin could've sworn his heart stopped pumping blood for a second.

"Uriel, my god, warn me. I just left the bathroom," he whined, slapping Uriel's shoulder. In return, he simply nodded a 'no,' smiling even wider.

"Guess who fucked their grades so bad that they're being home-schooled?" Uriel proudly rhetorised, watching Erin's expression drop comically.

".. How did you even manage that?"

"I don't study, duh," he replied as if it were the simplest, most obvious situation.

"I don't know, Uri. If everything falls, Uni will be the only thing that has your back," Erin suggested, stepping away from the bathroom door, Uriel trailing behind him.

"No." Uriel deadpanned.

"No?"

"Yeah, no."

"Your extensive use of our lexicon unveiled the detrimental predicament into a product of clarity. Thank you ever so much for your elaborative contribution to society." Erin sarcastically grinned, turning around to bow a full ninety degrees before turning back around again.

"Spakesfeare."

"Shakespeare," Erin exasperatedly sighed. "Okay. What if I helped you? I can't say I'm very good because I haven't gone in a while, but I can help you here and there, if you'd like," Erin offered sitting at his desk, pointing the space opposite him. Uriel ignored his hand, instead plonking himself right next to Erin, causing him to jolt.

"Well, you're probably worse off than me if you're a dropout, but I guess you'll do," Uriel indifferently shrugged. Erin just tilted his head, huffing. Moving past the comment, he materialised a half used notebook. "Woah, these exist here?" Uriel awed.

"It's fascinating, right? Even the colour of it is really beautiful. If I had to guess, I'd assume this paper would've been made from a lot of cotton in real life. Cotton makes paper so much softer, but the tree stiffens it," Erin rambled, whilst Uriel pieced together new puzzle pieces of Erin's endearing character. Random knowledge, patient, fairly sensitive, and adores contact; these are just a few of the things Uriel had picked up about Erin. Chuckling gently, he shook his head resting in his palm.

"You act so hard in this game, but you're nothing but a mushy mochi on the inside," Uriel observed, resting his hand on his chin.

"And you're the same, if not, worse," he huffed back. "I'm craving mochi now."

"Ew, they're rank, how do you like those things?" he cringed.

"I wouldn't expect you to have good tastebuds. Strawberry mochi is by far the most superior nourishment to exist."

"Whatever. You gonna teach me or not?"

Flicking through the notebook, Uriel saw several pages written from top to bottom - neat notes on everything and anything ranging from school work to hundreds of experiments done on hair follicles. It was oddly fascinating, oddly intriguing.

"Erin, what do you.. how do I word this; why do you learn stuff like this?" Uriel asked ambivalently, gesturing to the pages upon pages of all things random. Erin paused, thoughtfully staring at the pages afront him.

"Well, I guess for many reasons. It's a good distraction, and it lets me use my free time well. Plus, knowing more can never be a bad thing," Erin ardently replied.

"Distraction from what?" Uriel acerbically shot.

Oh.

"Oh. Um," Erin dawdled. He didn't think far ahead; he never did. "I don't go out much?" Erin replied, though it appeared as more of a question than anything.

"Why?"

By this point, Uriel was shooting every question he could until he was satisfied, and Erin silently cursed at his 'curious' nature. "I get ill often, so I can't go out. Anyways, shall we get to math?" Erin conciliated, desperately chuckling to avert any tension.

Squinting his eyes, he glared at Erin in utter suspicion. "You are a very weird one. I don't believe you, but I will find out one day."

"Math?" Erin diverted.

"Mhmkay."

"S-so, which topic do you struggle with?"

"binomials, polynomials, trigonometric integrals, that kind of thing," Uriel listed. "Do you even know what those are..?" he teased. Erin raised a defiant brow.

"Those are actually my favourite. Algebra's my strong point. Shall we begin?"

Sighing, Uriel dejectedly mumbled, "Let's get this over with."

A solid hour trickled past the window of time, and Uriel swore he became Einstein. He was sat completing a mini quiz Erin had constructed, whilst the shorter was just observing. Observing the way the pen slid into his large palm so daintily, the way he bit his lip when he focused, the way his eyebrows tangled and his eyes sharpened when he was in thought. Erin couldn't remember the last time he felt mesmerised by something; after all, his world had been nothing but blue and grey, until recently. And of all things to be mesmerised by, it just had to be Uriel. Fate was cruel.

Snapping his head upwards, the taller met eyes with Erin's affectionate gaze. Grinning aloofly, he flagged his paper around, ready for Erin to mark. Stuttering his movements, the smaller took hold of his paper. With every tick, Uriel's self-confidence blossomed twofold, even more so enraptured to share it with his friend. The last tick stained the page, as Erin looked up with a madly proud smile.

"Woah, you aced it," he beamed, patting his arm frenziedly in pure contentment. Uriel reflected the same beam just as bright, shouting an array of sounds whilst Erin joined in.

"Thank you, Rin. You actually aren't that braindead," he complimented, whilst Erin just flirtishly winked in response.

"I am the Park Erin, the ENFJ, I'm good at everything," he stated as if it were a beyond irrefutable, evident fact.

"Alright, pack it up, Park. If you're going to use your MBTI for everything, I'm going to cry myself to sleep," he sulked humorously. Gazing at the clock, alert spread into his body, as he frantically got up.

"Why the rush?" Erin mumbled, slightly disheartened.

"I have to meet my tutor in ten minutes," he feverishly read over the notes they made one last time, before Uriel reached for his scroll, preparing to log out. "Thanks for the tutoring, I guess. I'll update you. Don't get too lonely without me," he gave a peace sign before disappearing.

Erin didn't even get the time to say 'good luck,' which slightly saddened him.

He got up, ready to pack away the revision material. Glancing at the page one last time, he saw a small scribble occupying the corner of his page which he didn't seem to notice before. It was minor, messy, but had a small, blue heart next to it. Peering a little harder, inching a little closer, he read the message.

'You look cute when you stare'

Erin paused. He reread the scribble again. And again, and again. His eyes widened, pupils dilating in shock. There was a condensed pile of maddening chaos in that single sentence, that threw Erin off entirely. He decided to be a reductionist, as always. Thus, he broke it down. He probably knew Erin was staring. He probably called him cute. Well, no doubt. it's written on paper, after all. The question comes, is he flirting? A raging tornado of questions was hurled at his blank mind, before simmering down into a light breeze. He called him cute.

He figured that that's all he had to understand for now.

His eyes were shadowed by his bangs, as he bit down on his bottom lip and let the warm feeling tingle in his stomach.

His cold body grew warm.

-

Uriel sat up from his bed, ruffling his thick tresses. Stepping out of his room, he felt his stomach gurgle. A small idea lit up in his head, curiosity growing slightly.

"Butler, sir, can you get me mochi, please? Strawberry," he raised his voice. "Oh, and some cottony-ish type of paper for my tutoring?"

Moments later, with a well fed stomach and soft paper beneath his fingertips, he sat at the table, welcoming his tutor. An hour had passed.

"So, how would you approach it?"

"In order to find the first three terms for the polynomial equation, you must use Pascal's triangle based on the power given. In this case, row seven."

"And if the other equation isn't parallel to the latter, the answer is..?"

"Therefore correct, for parallel lines do not intersect, and have the same slopes. Be it perpendicular, only then can they intersect and form a ninety degree angle," Uriel elegantly finished his tutor's sentence, growing confident in his answer upon seeing his proudly blooming smile.

"Brilliant work, Uriel. Your knowledge can efficiently increase in comparison to the average student," the tutor beamed using his wrinkled lips, pushing up the wizened skin. "Your notes are also impeccably neat in comparison to your older ones?" he raised a brow cheekily.

"I had a stroke of inspiration, I guess. Plus, this paper's really soft, so it.. uh, yeah?" Uriel responded, madly unsure of what arbitrary contemplations were being spewed out of his mouth. The tutor remained sunny, chuckling lightly at his obscureness.

"Well, cottony paper is simply the best for heavy ink, like the pen you're using," he sat down after standing at his whiteboard for over an hour, rubbing his knees as his he plonked his heavy body against the padded chair. "We'll take a five minute discontinuity to respite our minds, so until then, I'd like to know a little more about my student," he warmly smiled, eyes creasing gently. Uriel felt as if he knew that man for every day of his existence on earth; that's how warmly he smiled. It reminded him of someone.

"Well, as you know, my name is Kim Uriel, and I'm nineteen. I don't care for education at all. In fact, I hate all this shi-," Uriel gasped, lightly covering his mouth with his large palm. Heartily chortling, he slapped a hand unto Uriel's shoulder.

"It's okay, son. I'm familiar with this generation's mannerisms; let it all out if you want to," he explained.

"Oh, actually," he began. "I know this one guy who doesn't curse at all. He doesn't really seem to care for keeping in the loop. Like, he didn't even know about new apps or phones or anything. He talks about myths or rocks or paper; I don't even know. It baffled me," he rambled.

"Strange, indeed. He sounds like a rather endearing character, I say," he sipped on his chamomile tea, contrasting Uriel's fast pace. "One you could learn a lot from, I assume. So, why are you studying?"

"Huh?"

"I believe you mentioned disliking studies. Why are you here?"

Uriel so badly wanted to reply 'because I live here,' but for starters, he knew that's not what he meant, but, he even had this urge to respect this man at all times. He had a rather unique aura. One that can dominate, but one that doesn't dominate until necessary - it was a type of aura that made you want to respect him out of your own will, and not because he made you. It left Uriel in awe.

"I'm here because.. I don't know. My parents kinda made me, but other than that.."

Uriel thought long and hard, room reaching an impregnable silence momentarily.

"If everything falls, education will back me up," he concluded.

"What is your 'everything,' Uriel?" the tutor leaned forward, growing progressively curious.

"Art. Painting; everything that isn't 'successful,'" he scoffed, pressing bunny ears on the word 'successful.'

"This may not be of much comfort, dear, but you're being very mature about it. Unfortunately, the arts are not often stable due to its subjectivity. It's good to put work into things stable and unstable, and if your art can keep you stable, you can leave your studies. But, you have a little spark in you that is hard to be found elsewhere. I promise you, work smart, and you will reach that dream. Be honest, and confident in your emotions, for I sense some insecurity in you," the elder advised, placing his empty cup back against the lignum table, leaving Uriel in deep thought as he stood up. "So, are you studying to return to University?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Back to Tokyo Central, correct?"

"I was thinking of actually, maybe.. I don't know, it's stupid," Uriel poked his cheek with his tongue.

"Remember what I said, dear." he encouraged.

"I.. I want to return to South Korea, maybe more towards Busa-"

"Uriel. Do not waste the tutor's time, we are paying him generously to teach, not talk!" Uriel's mother entered the secluded room, shrieking disturbing the untainted pool of tranquillity. Nodding gently in obedience, he opened his cotton paper back up, ready to begin the lesson with slightly lifeless eyes. The tutor frowned knowingly with a sigh.

" .. Okay, thirty more minutes, and we will adjourn this tutoring."

Thirty minutes had snuck by, leaving a brain fried Uriel leaning back against the seat, head hanging in exhaustion.

"Brilliant work, Uriel. Please present me your beaming spirit yet again next week, okay?" the tutor extended his hand, standing by the great door separating him from the rest of the world.

"Deal," he smiled, shaking the tender, aged hand. As he left, Uriel saw him off, waiting for him to leave his vision. Upon the tutor driving off, he cheekily smiled, rummaging up the stairs and back into his room. He arrived back into the virtual world, awakening near Erin's desk.

Briefly glancing across his room, the black haired boy was nowhere to be seen. The sky's blue canvas had been stained pink, as a beautiful twilight hue entered the room from the wide balcony. The dusk came as a tangible whisper of the stars to come, fading into a comforting, deep purple, singing its sweet lullaby to the hues of daylight. It was an enchanting sight, one he wanted to share with his friend.

Sighing, he sat on a chair, tucking in further to the desk. Peering to his left, he eyed the lump next to him. Eyes widening, he jolted, hands flung up in fear. Whispering a string incoherent cuss words, he calmed his racing heart, snapping his head back to face the lump yet again.

A small Erin was snuggled into his notebook, breathing out small puffs of the evening air. His hands curled into a fist, warm to his head. A halo of light beamed across his soft midnight black hair, as a faint aroma of roses infiltrated Uriel's senses. Suddenly, Uriel grew curious. Hesitantly, he pulled his hand out of his kiln pocket, and into the cold air. His hand inched closer and closer to Erin's head, hovering over him for a solid five seconds. Lowering his large palm, he allowed the pads of his long fingertips to push a few loose strands out of his serene face. His fingers grazed Erin's unblemished forehead, ghosting them across his pale skin. Maybe a tad bit paler than before, which slightly concerned Uriel. Skin gleaming, as soft as petals, the hand caressing Erin's forehead fell to his cheek.

"Pretty," he whispered unknowingly.

Stirring in his sleep, his pink lips puckered like peonies, cheeks adorning a soft blushing orchid shade. Uriel panicked, allowing his fight or flight response to take charge. Unfortunately for Erin, he chose 'fight'. Thwacking the side of Erin's head, Erin yelped, flapping his arms at the sudden ringing noise infiltrating his eardrum, cheek beginning to sting. Craning his neck up frenziedly, he gazed upon a wide eyed Uriel glaring daggers at his own hand.

"What the hell was that for!" Erin groaned, barely looking half awake, posture now straight as he rubbed the side of his face.

"Uh, I thought I saw a fly on your face. Turns out it was just a pimple," he shrugged.

"A pimple? What?" Erin snorted wryly, face contorting into agitation, yawning lightly.

"Kidding. Hey, don't attack me - Erin, put the book down!" he stood up quickly, rushing down the stairs whilst Erin just watched with beady eyes.

Peering backwards, he glared as he cocked his head around. "You coming, little one?"

"I'm older than you."

"No you aren't."

"Am too."

"No, no you're not."

"Yes, yes I am," Erin huffed.

"Bet," he challenged, walking back to Erin, hovering his face above the shorter's. Pouting, he looked the other way, before mumbling a small 'October the thirteenth.' Sighing, he whispered 'December.' Lingering above Erin a little longer, he frowned, turning around to walk back down dejectedly. "You coming, grandpa?"

"There is no winning with you, Kim Uriel."

Trudging down the stairs, Erin sluggishly followed the sprinting Uriel, watching him slam open the spare room door. Huffing, he trailed behind, walking in the room now allocated as his painting room. Tilting his head in slight confusion, Erin observed his friend set up an array of dark paints by his landscape canvas.

"Why are you standing there like an scarecrow? Sit down," Uriel ordered, not once peering to his side, where the extra chair was placed. Pulling the stool out, he sat down, shimmying closer to the taller.

"Whatcha doin'?" Erin adorably probed, as Uriel bit back a smile, spitting out a sarcastic response instead.

"I dunno, building the Eiffel tower?" he retorted. Scrunching his face, Erin scoffed in distaste.

"You ass."

"Oh my goodness, grandfather, did you just say the 'a' word?" Uriel fabricated a posh accent, spreading paint against the canvas. Remaining unresponsive, Erin simply sighed, choosing to quietly watch the latter paint in silence.

The trusty Moon had arisen in the sky, as a few hours of quiet chatter and silence threaded into the endless continuum of time. Erin grew slightly fidgety at the silence, and so began playing with the hem of his silky white pyjama top. He wanted so very badly to talk to the Moon, but didn't have the heart to leave. So, he settled for Uriel instead. Timidly, a sliver of his melodious voice formed a string of words.

"Tell me, have you ever fallen in love, Uri?"

Uriel flinched, pausing.

Silence.

Stroking his brush against the canvas again, rolling his eyes around in thought.

"Nah. Why fall in love when I can fall asleep?"

"Uriel." Erin deadpanned, seriously considering running out to his balcony.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I guess, I love money..?" he trailed off, etching a tiny white dot against the canvas. In a reverie, Erin returned from his trance, considering Uriel's words carefully. After all, his loves should still be considered valid.

"Hey, that's still good. After all, it can buy good food, entertainment, and...health," Erin composed. "Though, there are other things to love too, is there not?"

"I, also, I love to paint," Uriel answered.

"See? You have stuff. Good for you," Erin tenderly sighed the words out, holding his own hands in a soft clasp. Not the answer he wanted, but valuable nontheless. A few moments passed by, and Erin didn't hear the brush stroking any longer. Turning to his side, Uriel faced the latter seated.

"What about you?"

"Me..?"

"No, your aunt."

Erin gave a certain look, and Uriel immediately retreated to his canvas, coughing lightly.

"I mean, no. With a person, not really," he supposed. "Besides, I- I don't know. It probably wouldn't go too well for me," he mumbled, just barely, tickling Uriel's ears.

"What, why?"

"I guess, I'm just kind of incapable of it," Erin nonchalantly shrugged, knowing no person unbeknownst of his situation would read into it.

"Don't say that, Rin," Uriel grew sombre, eyes hardening as he glared right into the windows to Erin's soul. "Never say that. Never again. You are allowed to love," Uriel earnestly stated, heart twisting and turning in unnatural angles.

Erin sat aloof allowing the chill down his spine to shaken his being, black orbs tracing every curve and crevice Uriel had to offer, unaware he was even capable of using his sultry voice so purely. It gave him whiplash all over again.

"I.. I don't really know what to say."

"Then shut up and listen. I'm an ass, but I'm not blind. We need love to live. Don't just be alive, live, Erin," Uriel hummed delicately, melodies forming a soulful tune made for angels to sing.

Erin felt this impending sense of tranquility. This sensation, pride, they call it, tugged at his conscience, feeling an immense sense of gratification that he could experience this side of him, this persona tucked away in the deeper corners of his being.

Was this really his Uriel? It was the very same Uriel, of course. The one who almost had him in despair, but is now granting him a snippet of what utopia feels like. Instead of verbally responding, the single, gleaming tear dripping down Erin's hollow cheek spoke volumes.

Placing his brush in his water pot, he leaned forwards with tender eyes, bringing his thumb to wipe the stray tear domestically. Wet puppy eyes followed his every movement, fluttering shut under Uriel's warm touch.

"Erin," Uriel probed, watching him shake his head to regain his composure.

"Mhm..?"

"Give me your number."

"As in, like, a phone number?" Erin furrowed his brows, sniffing lightly.

"Uh, yes?"

"I don't have one, if I'm being entirely honest," Erin timidly murmured.

Uriel sighed, returning to his canvas. "You could've just said no."

"No, it's not like that, I promise! I really don't have one, I'm not particularly wealthy, remember?" Erin hurriedly justified, waving his hands afront him. Though Uriel didn't look massively convinced, it made sense. And so, he simply nodded.

"How'd you afford this headset then? You're either rich or a tester."

Busted.

He couldn't say he got it for free because he was in fulltime pain and got paid for it, but it's simply not in him to lie.

"It was a gift."

Technically, that's not a lie.

"Oh."

Sitting quietly, Erin felt guilt nipping at the seams of his skin, that is, until a minuscule idea surfaced in the well of his conscience.

"Hey, I have a hos- home phone you can have, if you wanted to use that..?"

A light found home in Uriel's face, as he pulled his head up away from his canvas eagerly like a meerkat, resembling a curious child.

"Type the digits out."

The Moon had reached its peak in the clandestine, rich velvety sky, illuminating the sweat beads trickling off Uriel's forehead as he pressed a slender paintbrush against the decorated canvas. His fingers glided, bent, twisted and turned precise to the nanometre, painting a thousand stories with a single stroke. Every ounce of paint whispered part of the canvases journey, chorusing to form a story that words simply could not explain. No lexicon of any language was able to convey the weight and sincerity of Uriel's clear, yet blurred emotions.

Erin was increasingly becoming squirmy and unstill, stool not proving to be up to his standard of comfort.

Uriel melodramatically stood up, chair flicking backwards. The thudding of the chair forced Erin ajar, dazingly looking in all directions with speed. Noticing Uriel, his eyes softened, standing up to walk next to him.

"Ah, ah, ah. Wait, I need to do a grand reveal," Uriel smirked, pulling a sheet over the painting, and facing it towards Erin.

"Always so dramatic, good sir," Erin chortled, hands slightly clapping together in excitement.

"Only for you, little hobbit," Uriel winked pretentiously. "Okay, first off. I know it's amazing, so don't be too shocked when you see it. Also, you're too sensitive, so if you cry, I'm genuinely going to rage quit this game. So don't." he bit his lip.

"Why would I cr-"

Oh.

The sheet masking the canvas fell limp against the floor in a cluster, revealing the intricacy that was Uriel's art. A big, bright, dazzling Moon hovered proudly over the collection of stars, sprinkled on like glitter against midnight blue satin. The indigo sky held the white specks captive, dawning over a small familiar figure, wrapped in a blanket. To put it beyond simply, it was beautiful. Lovely. Mesmerising.

It felt like a summary of Park Erin - the bboy who gazed at the Moon with a longing, burning passion, gazing, looking for answers and comfort in anything.

Erin heavily stared, mouth agape. Uriel fiddled with his hands, waiting for something, anything to exit the smaller's mouth.

"Well?" Uriel whispered, itching to hear anything over his pounding head.

Taciturnity.

"I, the like, it's the swirl and the tree and stars? And indigo and it's so beautiful," Erin stammered, tongue tying in ways that even knots couldn't accomplish. The painting was so blue, so very Erin, that Erin almost felt vulnerable. 'How?' Erin pondered.

It's one thing to paint something so brilliantly within a few hours, but to capture such raw emotion? "I don't know what to even say," his lips quivered, eyes wide as he bit down on his plump lip. He didn't know anyone was capable of liking him. Or, liking him enough to know him well, and present that so fascinatingly. He didn't know it could be Erin, of all people.

"Uriel."

His eyes flicked between Erin and where Erin was looking at on the canvas.

"Yeah?"

"I love every little stroke. Really. You're so talented, to be able to strike me right here," Erin patted his heart lightly, trailing his other hand over the painting. Sighing in relief, Uriel's shoulders slumped, shifting his vision between him and the painting.

"Keep it."

"What? Are you insane? This would be worth millions here; keep it, or sell it."

"No. No other person gets to see you like this," he quickly argued, feeling an odd type of standoffishness overtake him. Mentally beckoning for the rosy tint on his cheeks to disappear, Erin swallowed a witty comment, choosing to present a tiny smile instead.

"When you get famous, you better tell everyone about your first painting for your number one fan," Erin approached the curly haired male, placing a tender, warm hand against Uriel's forearm, massaging it to relieve any tension after painting for so long. Erin decided to place it on the blank wall opposing his bed, falling asleep facing one of the few reasons he's alive. Make his house more of a home.

Uriel hyper-focused on every inch of Erin's small hands against his arms. It felt like the surface of the skin was tingling, on passive fire. Leaning closer, he spooned Erin's body into his own, rocking them back and forth ever so daintily.

"Wow. Leech, much? I'll tell everyone about the number one stalker."

"Says the guy who teleported to me when I was in the bathroom."

They chuckled breathily, feeling their chests vibrate against each other. The intoxicating scent of rose and cinnamon musk mingling was something they never knew they needed. It left them both weak in their knees, minds going hazy.

Pressing his cheek against Erin's scalp, his lips just about grazed Erin's ear. Erin pulled back, just gazing deeply into Uriel's orbs. Uriel felt so seen and so heard, so it wasn't much of a shock to his brain when he spoke before thinking. The ghost of a whisper slipped past Uriel's lips before he could retrieve it, sending fuzzy tingles down Erin's spine.

"You're cute when you stare at me."