THE MANAGER NIM

11. CERULEAN EYES

Since the day your classmate, Ryan and his pesky gang smashed your favourite wristwatch to assert their dominance in a fight, back in school, brawling with brats had been your childhood anthem and breaking their heads had been your favourite hobby. 

Not to swank, but at least 8 of your class boys have described you as "terrifying" to your homeroom teacher. 

To be precise, peaceful and non-violent memories with boys are scanty in your life, let alone romantic and warm memories. 

But this towering, slender guy, whose shoelace you're tying right now, who offered his leather jacket to enshroud your drenched outfit and shivering body, who shielded you with his own back from the mud waves and the one who took his precious time to guide your dumbass through these maze buildings, made you feel some type of way. 

Kim Namjoon, the magnificent leader of BTS with the IQ level of 148.

The holy blend of intelligence and a hot mess. If one were brave enough to enter the depths of his hazel iris, all else would blur and you'd fall so deep in the ocean of cosiness, that you'd choose to stay there, no matter what.

"What is the name of this rom-com K-drama Namjoona?", Bang PD's nasal voice cuts through your mellow thoughts like sand on a frying pan. 

The plumpy guy stands there with a mile-wide smirk upon his face. 

"Sorry!" You blurt out reflexively and quickly rise from the ground. 

"Tch tch! At this level of messiness, you might choke on your own spit and die Namjoonah" Bang PD lets out a tired sigh and approaches the helmet head to take it off. 

But Namjoon skillfully dodges his hands and trots away from the spot, yelling "Let's meet again with a proper introduction manager-nim!".

You couldn't help but stifle a grin. 

"Aishh! this man and his insecurities", Bang PD mutters under his breath in Korean. 

-

The porcelain clock on the cafeteria's polish wall proclaims the time as five minutes until ten. 

Since Bang PD asked you to wait in this cafeteria for a while as his partners suddenly preponed the meeting, you continue to gaze at the raindrops that cling, jewel-like to the glass walls of the cafeteria. 

The underlying aroma of caffeine pervades your nostrils and coaxes your coffeeholic self to get an espresso for yourself, your shivering body couldn't agree more and affirms the idea right away.

You rise from your seat and stride towards the counter. 

"One espresso please!" You place your order with a plastic smile. 

The long-haired barista stares right into your eyes and nods in an ensuing way, but that intense look seems too serious for a mere ensurement. 

His panther-like physique and those snake tattoos over his exposed muscular arms give him the appearance of a fuse of an immortal and a threat. 

He slides your espresso over the counter and looks straight at your face, expecting you to pay for your order. 

Every part of your body goes on pause for a minute and knocks off every wisp of air from your lungs when you couldn't find your wallet in your handbag. 

Holy lord! You handed it over to your aunt with all those shopping bags last night and forgot to collect it back this morning, your face grows pale, as white as chalk when the realisation hits you. 

"I.. My… wallet", You stutter with each word in a vulnerable state. It makes you feel ground would swallow you and you couldn't think or formulate sentences.