little master

Eight.

Of course I won.

The last time he missed him, I ended the game with a three-step layup. When I picked up the ball, I felt like my back was going to be pierced. When I turned around, I found that his eyes were red.

I thought about it, and felt that I was indeed a bit of a bully.

The two of us are not in the same class based on our height alone. He is a 1.8-meter young master who has always been pampered.

I could bend over and pick him up.

There's really no comparison.

He stood still and didn't speak, so I walked over, took out a pack of tissues from my pocket, and handed him one.

His tone was blunt: "Why?"

I wanted to say it was because he looked like he was about to cry, so I wiped his tears with a tissue, but if I had said that, he would have killed me, dead or alive.So I put it another way and said:

"Young master is tired from playing, and you are sweating. Let me wipe it off for you."

After I finished speaking, I rubbed it on my hind legs, and quickly wiped the sweat off his forehead as lightly as possible.

By the time he reacted, I had already retracted my hand and stuffed the used tissue back into my pocket.

He glared at me again.

I saw that he was not as angry as before, so I reminded him: "Master, I won."

He didn't answer, turned around angrily and was about to leave.

How could I let him just go like this, I stopped him as soon as he turned around, stepped in front of him in two steps, blocked the way, and emphasized to him:

"It's you who said that you can stay if you win. Could it be that you want to go back on your word?"

He jumped: "Who doesn't admit it?"

"Then why didn't you answer me?" I took another small step in his direction, just wrapping him under my body, and said solemnly, "It's the puppy who is cheating."

"You are the dog!"

Due to height and distance restrictions, he could only look up at me. This posture was obviously uncomfortable, and I was pushed away by him after a while.

The young master's face was flushed red, probably out of anger, and he said viciously to me: "Don't you know that the bodyguards are going to follow behind? Don't get in the way!"

Is this considered agreed?

I immediately turned to let him go first: "Young Master said so."

He snorted, and he didn't forget to step on my foot when he took a step. It felt like he was trying to get back all the things he had just thrown on the field at once. The force was so great that I grinned my teeth in pain and almost jumped up.

My reaction seemed to please him successfully.

Because I clearly saw him sticking out his tongue proudly when he walked past me: "Slightly slightly slightly"

Tsk, childish.

But for the sake of his cuteness, I can ignore this kick.