Love In The Time Of Coffee | Yunho [Ongoing]

3 | gossip slave

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IT TOOK ME TWO WHOLE months to condition myself to a work environment feat. Jeong Yunho: most sought out photographer in the fashion industry. Before then, I clung to false hope, telling myself it was only a matter of time to see him up and leave. I, for one, fondled with the idea that not just anybody survived at XL and whatever he claimed he looked for, he was better off finding it someplace else. Two months in and he's all smiles. He was loved by all, hated by none and naturally he took center stage, with or without trying. And I stopped to think if it was a God-given talent from old, bestowed on those deemed worthy. But either way, it made me wish he would just stay away.

The truth: I might have caught a bug.

It wasn't always easy to define my feelings but even at that, it wasn't exactly difficult to know these were not simply abstruse symptoms sprouted from nowhere. Unfortunately, there was no one I considered privileged enough to share such info with. Automatically, Mia was ruled out because, well, she was rather confused at this time, having rooted and camouflaged her attraction on idealism. Singly, she claimed she was uninterested. "I'm giving him his space," she had said, however, I drew to an epiphany, that maybe my best friend didn't want to give him space. Mia was looking for the opposite; it was left to Yunho to figure out the ball now stayed in his court, and if things did play out like they did when she thought ludicrously, next week shouldn't cross over without a dinner for two.

Something told me Yunho was most likely to take the bait. I was yet to find someone who wasn't attracted to my friend. It was another thing that distinguished the fact that we were highly mismatched—an odd twosome.

"Why do I get the feeling you're avoiding me." Was I that obvious? And if that were the case, I didn't think he would've used approximately sixty days to figure it out.

I paused sorting to look at him. It was just my luck that I was stuck with him because "Lang said so" and when I glanced up at Yunho, I wasn't expecting him to be staring right back. He wasn't. Then I understood—more like drew to the assumption—his question didn't warrant an answer exactly. He only tried to keep up a convo, again, I assumed.

I continued what I was doing.

"You didn't answer my question," he said.

"Oh, I thought you were being rhetorical and I can assure you, I am in no way avoiding you." I had told a lot of lies in my day, but this? This wasn't the best of them. His presence left my head wonky and it was too short a duration to grow a pair and meet his eyes which now rested on me. "And take it from me, it's quite hard to build up relationships here at XL."

"Is it now?"

"Mm-hm," I hummed in response. "Worst of all, people like you just don't fit in. You're better off singing Westlife karaokes with Lang or partaking in his moonlight escapades."

I wasn't about to admit that I had no idea what I said nor how much deep shit I was probably in for speaking ill of the boss. That knowing look on Yunho's face told me he knew as well. He was interested, Seonghwa had said and in the past one month plus, I tried to bulwark the truth, tell myself it was near impossible because I was still scared to give in—if that truly were the case—and then, bam! he hits; I'm hurt. And sometimes I felt like to acknowledge it would mean I was overselling it, because I was way past reading meaning into the infamous long hard look, and I needn't start now. Hell, work would not permit that.

I should not permit that.

"Well, Yong—I really like the name, why don't you like it?" There was a strong urge to roll my eyes and I gave into it. Two weeks—fourteen days—three-three-six hours—and I cannot get around to counting the minutes nor seconds to further establish my point. But, yes, that lengthy a period had come and gone and Yunho still couldn't let go of my name; the mastermind behind it. Even though I doubted that needed explaining. "It suits you."