Moonspear The recent expansion of the forbidden dog park

Moriko declined politely, claiming that she was neither cold nor capable of moving, which doused the nervous leaping warmth in Dragomir's belly. She thought he was sweet, but she didn't want him to sit with her to warm her up, so maybe he was looking a little too far into things. It was unlikely he would discard the thought so easily, but at least for now, Dragomir felt a little less like butterflies were eating up his insides.

You don't look like a wet rat! he was quick to stammer, feeling the urgent need to reassure her. Sometimes he felt like that about himself—like he was good for nothing—and it always helped when someone praised him. So he blurted out, complete with a teenage voice crack, I think you're beautiful! But exactly why, Dragomir couldn't say, because he didn't really know Moriko. He wasn't really checking her out, either. He just knew she was being especially kind to him and that made him feel warm and fuzzy inside, so warm and fuzzy that he kind of wanted to kiss her wet cheek.

But he wouldn't. He wasn't that forward. She turned his attention to the snow and he nodded. She could've said she liked how it froze her toes and he would agree with her. It's very pretty, he granted. So, uh... what were you up to before you slipped here?