JUNJIE
"I'm telling you, this couch isn't coming with us," I declare, staring down at Yiren, who is glued to that ridiculous monstrosity of a couch she calls her 'favorite.' I call it what it is—a sex couch.
"And I'm telling you, I'm not going anywhere without it!" She's sprawled out on it like a queen, legs kicking in the air, defiantly holding court while movers and packers buzz around us like we're not in the middle of this domestic war.
I glare at her, arms crossed, but it's hard to stay mad when she's lying on her stomach, ass in the air, practically begging the universe to bless that perfectly spankable behind. I've never wanted to smack something so bad. I shake my head, trying to focus. Come on, Jun. Get it together.
"Don't make me drag you off that thing," I warn, barely able to keep the growl out of my voice. Does she really think I'm going to let that couch ruin the perfectly curated interior of my place?
