Here’s Chaeji, pushing me to think more seriously about Yung-Sun.
Yung-Sun and his tenacity.
Yung-Sun and that damn beauty mark.
Yung-Sun and those plump lips. They look kissable. Soft.
I pull over into an alleyway and stop the car. Roll the window down. Take a deep breath.
And just let myself think about it.
Kissing a man can’t be that different from kissing a woman. Lips are lips, right?
I’m tall; I’m always the one bending down or lifting the other person up. Yung-Sun is shorter than me. It’d be the same.
The way I can picture him tilting his head up to me, eyes fluttering closed, sends a shiver down my spine.
Fuck.
?
LUX
“Oh, god, yes,” I groan. “That feels so good.”
Nikko snickers. “If I wasn’t standing here watching you take off that weird shirt, I’d think something very different was going on.”
“Iwishsomething very different was going on,” I grumble, glad to be rid of the scratchy material that had been irritating me for the whole photo shoot. I love getting to wear couture and experiment with styles, but whatever that fabric is may be an actual torture device. We got to see some of the images, though, before they released us to get changed, and we’d looked amazing, so I guess it was worth it. “How long do you think it would take them to notice this necklace is missing?” I ask Nikko, slipping my fingers along the long strand of pearls and intricate gold links.
He looks appalled. “You can’t just take it! I’m sure if you ask they’ll let you have it, as long as you promise to wear it somewhere or post a picture with it.”
“You’re probably right,” I agree, not mentioning that the kind of photo I’m thinking about taking with it would not be appropriate for social media. But I’d definitely send it to Kija. And suggest he replace it with another sort of pearl necklace.
“Whatever is going on in your mind right now, please stopit,” Nikko pleads, tugging a hoodie over his head. When I furrow my brows at him in curiosity, he explains, “You always get this look on your face, and I can tell you’re…”
“Horny,” I fill in for him before he can try to find a kinder word for it.
“Yeah.” He nods. “Exactly that.”
I abandon the jewelry and follow him out of the dressing room. I’m trying to slip my feet into my boots when Chita-hyung calls to round everyone up. He lets us know that thanks to some sort of scheduling conflict, we have the rest of the day free. I can hear him, Lalo-hyung, and Tang-hyung quickly making plans to take advantage of bonus studio time, while Ryo-hyung announces he’s going to try a new restaurant owned by a celebrity chef who keeps asking him to visit.
Immediately, my hope is that Nikko will go see Jase, leaving me free to go back to the apartment alone. I don’t want to miss an opportunity to hang out with him, though, if he wants to. Not sharing a room has made me more grateful for the time we do spend together, especially when we can do it outside of work-related activities.
As soon as everyone else has scattered, he turns to me. “You want to do something?”
For a half a second, I think about telling him I have a headache or am going to nap so I can escape and try out the new toy I added to my collection just last night. He’d offer to take care of me, but ultimately leave me alone if that’s what I said I preferred. There’s a part of me, though, that thinks I should take advantage of the chance to have a conversation that’s been on my mind.
“Come over and we’ll order chicken?” I suggest.
“Ugh. Yes. Exactly what I was hoping for,” he admits. “I didn’t sleep much last night, so I just want to be lazy.”
I push him out the door and let one of the managers know we need a ride back to the apartment as we pass them, huddledaround a monitor, looking at all of our photos. “And why didn’t you get any rest?” I joke, even though I’m sure it’s going to be something sweet, like staying up reading poetry or video-chatting with Jase’s parents.
Nikko bites his lip, and suddenly I’m much more curious. He looks around to see if there’s anyone listening, then whispers, “Jase put a blindfold on me and teased meforeverand then… yeah.”
My jaw drops in surprise at this revelation—I did not expect that very mild kink exploration from those two. I want to encourage him to keep talking, because the“yeah”part is exactly what I am desperate to know about.
The conversation changes to much less interesting things as we climb in the back of the company car with the curtained windows. The folds of fabric are depressing, blocking our view of everything and keeping us hidden from anyone who might want to catch a glimpse of idols caught in the afternoon traffic with everyone else.
