Love In The Time Of Coffee | Yunho [Ongoing]

6 | wonky happens

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SEVEN A.M. THE NEXT DAY, I tried not to think of work.

Seven thirty-one, I arrived.

Between seven thirty-one and thirty-two, I slogged to my station, my feet trailing behind the rest of my body—what happens when pitstops weren't made by the coffee shop. I knew I had to settle for break room stuff, where there posed every possibility that the last asshole to fill their cup hadn't thought of brewing a fresh pot. I had to wait to recharge.

Time was still pacing from thirty-one to thirty-two when Yunho appeared beside me.

"Yong."

"Go away."

"I've got something for you."

Then I stopped, gave his handsome face a long thoughtful look. As pleasant as it had been in Fantasy Land last night, but I say better. Yes. A looong thoughtful look (nothing beyond ten seconds).

Did he ever not smile?

"Your studio is that way, just down the hall. Past the break room, you'll see—"

"The 'Hang In There' cat poster taking up all that wall space, then a door with my name on it. I know where my studio is and I keep thinking that fashion houses are the last place to find motivational shit, which in my opinion sums up as pseudo-motivational shit." I said nothing. Yunho misjudged my quiet, probably thought I was aware he had more to say. He continued, "I'm quite good with maps and directions. If you ever get lost finding your way to my heart, I would be more than happy to set up a GPS for you."

Against my will and a little more than that, a snicker heaved out of me. If physique and talent and smiles and allure were a thing of myth, I'd take his corny sense of humour. But they weren't, which evidently meant Yunho was more than a complete package, which made him somewhat mythical. And I was sure it possessed the dynamism to drag me in.

He was a geek, I liked that. The oversized woolly sweater he wore made him a hot geek.

"Ah, there it is," he said, rather jovially. At least more than what already played out. In the meantime, I surveyed the open area—sparse, dredged with men I either sipped coffee with during breaks or made corner-eye contact with. I just zeroed in on Myungsoo who'd requested Mia's number from me last week. I also traced three women I musn't be worried about. Chaerin was ensconced in her cubicle, back straight despite the more-than-a bump poking out of her bourgeois work attire, manicured fingers tap-danced across a keyboard, focus laser-eyed to her desktop screen. She outlined the kind of good work ethic most bosses searched hither and yon to find, could make cover page of Salt Mines: a business magazine—all business, all month. Chaerin was her second-year in marriage, soon to take a maternity leave because the fifth child was on its way. It got me thinking gifts for the baby shower Mia would definitely drag me to. Hana dated the beefy security officer on ground floor. And there was Saeron, who no one knew what she liked. Humans or ... well, not. The warning lights weren't blinking, I was safe. For now. "I brought you coffee. You wouldn't reject this time, will you? No one is heartless to the same person twice. It's bad luck." He stretched out his hand. I knew that green logo anywhere, the woman on it—my circadian sparkler. "I didn't know what you liked. I got skim."

Blech.

Coffee was coffee. Shouldn't taste any less like itself in the inhabitance of low-fat milk. Thrilled to say I preferred the one the health specialists claimed was bad for me, because I got to go against them.

"How stereotypical of you," I said. Shrugged. Looked away. "I'll manage. You're a lifesaver."

"The unhealthy stuff, got it," he muttered to himself, watching me relish the zing of ground dark-roast coffee beans. It was hot enough to blister my tongue and not have me caring. In my head, I imagined myself watching him watch me. I could have looked better. "I drank some, if you don't mind."