𝐵𝓁𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝑀𝑒

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 11

A  loud banging startles me awake.

I jump up, crumpled blankets tying my legs together, a bitter taste in my mouth.
What time is it? What’s this noise?
I look around, my vision blurred and my thoughts confused. Buttery beams pour in from the window, painting random spots of light on the floor.

Another two bangs echo throughout the apartment. It takes me a second to realize it’s someone knocking at the door.
Not Ben again, please.

I can’t deal with him, not right now—I’m too tired. It’s been three days since I’ve started working at the Lust at first bite, and with finals season approaching, I haven’t been sleeping at all. I can’t complain, though: the job is good. Clients have started to request me for private dances, and they all pay well. Yeah, I get the occasional nasty comment about what else that body can do, and there’s been a few creepy dudes making proposals, but it isn’t hard to ignore them.

Today’s the first day I don’t have any classes, and I wanted to take this opportunity to catch up on some rest.
No: I’m not dealing with Ben today. It’s not fair.
He knocks again, and even though I can’t really tell, he seems a bit more impatient.

“Go away, Ben” I shout toward the door. “I’m trying to get some sleep and I’m not opening the door.”

“It’s Jeon Jungkook, Miss Kang.” Oh, crap. Mr. Jeon. What is he doing here? What does he want? His second  name is jungkook ?I jump down the pull-out couch, instinctively fixing my knotted, sweaty hair, and smoothing the oversized t-shirt I use as pajama.

I’m a mess. Not my fault, though: he’s the one who showed up here unannounced. I have every right to look ugly and disheveled in my own apartment, especially this early in the morning.

“Are you planning on leaving me here all day?” he says, his voice slightly annoyed. “I have places to be.” Then go, I’d like to say, but I keep it to myself: I don’t want to cause unnecessary tension.

I put on the first pair of sweatpants I can get my hands on and drag myself toward the door.
He looks extremely out of place standing in the hall outside my apartment: his tailored suit, shiny black hair and perfect posture clash with the peeling wall and the smell of piss coming from the staircase.

He’s hot, hot enough to make my heart throb and my insides twist.
“You do realize it’s practically the middle of the night?” I ask,
scowling at him—a stupid attempt to hide how happy having him here makes me. Happy, excited, a bit nervous. The feeling of his mouth sucking my blood is still fresh in my mind, still makes my skin tingle.

He arches an eyebrow. “It’s eight in the morning, Miss Kang.”

“I went to bed at four.”

“Why is that?”

I cross my arms. “I believe that’s none of your concern. Why are you here?” He keeps quiet for a long moment, eyes scanning my figure in search of answers I’m not going to give him.

“I’ve been trying to contact you. Your phone number is unavailable.”

“Oh, yeah…” I scratch my neck. “My phone died last night, and I forgot to plug it in. I was too tired.”

“I thought I’d made myself clear.” His stare is icy. “I want you to answer when I call.”

“My bad, sorry” I say, suppressing a yawn. “Come on in. I’d offer you a coffee or something, but I feel like you’re here to drink something else.”

As he comes in, eyes studying my messy and very small one bedroom apartment, he fights back a smile. “Intuitive. Miss Kang, you live here?”