The space around us warped.
It was an odd, stretching sensation, like being yanked through a too-narrow tunnel at breakneck speed. And then—
Three seconds later.
We landed—hard—on the tenth floor.
Unfortunately, I hadn't exactly accounted for precision in our landing.
"A-Arthur," Rose stammered, her voice dangerously close to a squeak.
That was when I realized the situation.
I was on top of her.
Cecilia, on the other hand, was on top of me.
In short, it was a pile of limbs, tangled clothing, and very, very compromised personal space.
"Ah," I muttered, registering the exact way my hands had ended up, one pressed against Rose's waist, the other trapped under Cecilia's thigh.
Rose's t-shirt rode up slightly, revealing a small rose tattoo on her stomach.
'That is oddly cute and quite fitting,' I thought.
Both of them were red-faced, wide-eyed, and glaring at me like they were debating whether murder was a reasonable response.
