She's not perfect, she's a raging storm.
He's utopian, yet far from Elysium.
Kang Ambrosia: the quintessential femme fatale, an austere workaholic with absolutely ZERO time for romance.
Perfect on the outside, yet an unfinished masterpiece.
Park...
"The most beautiful part is, I wasn't even looking when I found you."
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I'm like the water when your ship rolled in that night Rough on the surface but you cut through like a knife And if it was an open-shut case I never would've known from that look on your face Lost in your current like a priceless wine - willow by Taylor Swift
SUMMER
Ithaca, Greece.
CHAMPAGNE UNDER A STARRY SKY, cool summer breeze blowing through her hair. A sparkly silver dress hugged her body, lips painted perfectly in crimson, eyes smoked out in black.
If Elysium ever did exist, this was it.
Except, she never expected it to entail lugging a piss-drunk man to the restroom to puke his guts out. However sexy she thought he was, hurling all over a woman's pretty—and expensive—dress would successfully repel all those thoughts out her mind.
Finally reaching the men's restroom, she flung the door open, scaring half a dozen men out of their minds.
A righteous young man intervened, stepping away from the sink, "Miss, this is the men's—"
"Save it," she snapped, glaring at him. He backed away immediately.
"Lady," her unknown companion-cum-arch enemy croaked, "you might wanna leave."
"Oh, hell nah. You're paying for this dress. If that means I'm gonna have to watch you spew," she threw a cubicle open, "so be it."
She wasn't entirely sober either. Despite her tolerance, a dozen shots of vodka after far too many flutes of Rosé would do it for anyone.
He doubled over in front of the open toilet, retching. The smell nearly killed her, but that was probably her favourite dress covered in puke. Heading over to the sink, she turned the faucet on.
Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the desperation of getting out of vomit-soaked clothes, but she pulled the dress off over her head in the middle of the men's lavatory, dunked it in the sink and grabbed a handful of tissues. Every pair of eyes trained on her.
Her response to a whistle echoing through the walls was to dunk half a bottle of liquid hand soap on her dress and begin scrubbing away. Dancing to a tune in her inebriated brain, she shook her head from side to side, moving her body to a song no one else could hear. Yep, the alcohol was definitely beginning to kick in.
