Bitterly, Sweetly

A Line

It was a high building boring duplicate windows extending up fourteen-floors. A family friendly playground opened up to the street, security cameras posted on nearby street lamps aimed directly at the area. Tenant-friendly picnic tables bordered the adjacent side courtyard separated and fenced off by a hedgerow of tall bushes. This time of night both areas were concealed in shadows.

Turned out there was only an underground parking lot accessible by visitors and tenants. Through a secure glass wall, a double set of elevators provided the only way up to housing. Far along the wall the emergency exit stairs was a close distance from the security guard's room.

By now the chill had worn off courtesy of the heat. Despite the comfort of that, his clothes were still damp and uncomfortable. His hair not yet dried either.

Removing her seatbelt Namjoo remained seated. Annoyed he assumed because of the rain and he'd forgotten an umbrella. Sehun felt at fault, but on one hand he finally knew where she lived. He debated apologizing again. After a long day of work Namjoo was probably vexed. Not forgetting stressed while he'd lounged around waiting for seven o' clock to hit.

"You should dry up." Namjoo murmured pushing the door open.

Blankly staring at the windshield Sehun doublechecked his hearing, unsure he'd heard correctly. A side glance showed Namjoo standing on the other side of the window. Eager, he unzipped the seatbelt. Namjoo walked away as he came around the car.

Using a card, she opened the glass doors heading straight for the elevator. Once in Namjoo edged away from him, staying close to the buttons. Number five glowed orange. Making a mental note from the opposite side he fought to tame the anticipation clambering through his veins. He was really going up to her place.

One glance at Namjoo and every inch of her was prominent as ever. Her blouse had curled up into wrinkles dampening her skin. Shoulder blades popped out sharply like the small of her shoulders. He couldn't help wondering what she wore underneath and if it might be his favorite color. Out of the car now and without its heat she looked like she was shivering.

"Thanks," he said, "you know, for letting me come up."

Her eyes seemed to run in circles agitatedly never once landing on him. This time he was beginning to wonder whether she was upset with him or if she was nervous. Her posture appeared so stiff like a tightly wounded ball.

The machine gasped open stealing his attention. Following Namjoo down a silent hallway they stopped shortly at a steel door. Buttons beeped as Namjoo punched in a code on the keypad she was careful to block from his view, but he felt he might know what it was. The door popped open letting him into the place he often daydreamed about.

Namjoo's apartment was sleek and sophisticated. Modernized with feminine décor of her taste. Unlike the scatter in her office, everything had its place here. The home was clean, organized. Very simplistic. He liked it. For some unexplained reason, it felt like he'd encroached upon her most sacred place.

"Here." Namjoo held out a clean white towel. Sehun reached for it feeling his hand brush over hers. Taking advantage of the opportunity he gripped her hand.

"Namjoo." She tried to pull her hand away but didn't really. He could tell, because she wasn't using as much strength.

"Stop it." Yanking her hand away successfully she tersely frowned up at him. He let her. There was a buzz in the air he enjoyed. This unexplained force exerting an energy around them.

Namjoo's shoulders tensed. The pace of her breathing quickened.

"I make you nervous, don't I?"