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Special {5}

[16] No, I won't

Accompanying the R&B from the car's radio was the drizzle that faintly went past closed windows. He looked over his shoulder, outside the window, only to see no one passing by his car. They were alone. He looked back at the girl across him, lifting his left leg up on the seat and keeping his right planted on the floor. Through the murky smoke his cigarette produced, he spotted dull eyes gazing at him, lips sealed and eyelids drooped. The smoke created an ethereal, spellbinding effect on her image, perhaps something he'd see if he was high from weed he'd never get. He wasn't as wild as his friends were, smoking weed behind locked doors and past midnight when their families would be asleep. But come to think of it, they weren't as ridiculous and stupid as he was. What was he thinking, doing this?

The woman shifted from her seat, and her sundress stuck to a part of it, damp thanks to the rain they successfully escaped from. The dress was plain and a dull orange, not exactly suitable for a formal event that they had just come from, but for him, she made it look undeniably magnificent. The dampness made her curves prominent, and his libido simmered up to a certain level that made him want to take his clothes off and get a graze of her skin. Again, he wasn't as wild as his friends. He's not an animal in heat. It's a turn on, though.

She tilted her head slightly, turning her upper body to him. Her attention was fully settled on him. Her skin was getting dry now, the sheen on her collarbones and neck diminishing.

"The rain's pouring heavier."

He looked past her head. Indeed it was. They're silent once again, but the tension was not a hum; it became a whisper that alarmingly got louder, speaking in increasing volumes telling them to initiate something. She finally lifted her lower body up on the seat, knees folding so their bare toes would touch. He kept his eyes up on hers, subconsciously swallowing due to the more skin she may or may not unconsciously exposed.

He forced himself to relax on the car door, head tipping back. Her gaze was stuck at the column of his throat. Her leg moved an inch forward.

"Is this okay?"

He pondered at the question.

It really wasn't. To think he could be attracted to a scoundrel who hurt his best friend with just a few words. It was disgusting. He didn't like what she did at all. But even he couldn't entirely fool himself. There was a little portion of him that greedily consumed and savoured the fact that she and his best friend broke up.

In this haze, the past didn't exist. Park Jimin and Yoo Jeongyeon were never a thing. He was blinded with the buzzing attraction for her, one that he denies to anyone, even himself.

"As long as what happens here stays here, then it is." It comes out like a mumble, but her ears picked it up.

He stubbed out his cigarette on the ashtray.

She only stared at him for a moment, and the corners of her lips twitched to form something in between amusement and disbelief. In a matter of seconds, her arms had settled right by the sides of his head, encaging him between her body and the car door, and there were a set of lips upon his.

He wondered what would happen if Jimin caught them in the middle of their spontaneous rendezvous; if Jimin discovered that his best friend was about to get down on his ex, or so he thought. He had a feeling this was just a mere make out session. If she and Jimin never broke up, would they still be making out in the backseats of his car in the near future? He noticed her gazes at him, sometimes something akin to her stares at Jimin, but harder to decipher; like she wanted to tell him something Jimin didn't know. It wasn't lust, he figured. Something close to admiration, which he realized as time passed.