UNLIKELY MATCH | HEESEUNG

10 - His Kind Of Woman

SENA'S POV

I don't know what I expected when I went to visit Heeseung in the garage, but being greeted with his anger and frustration wasn't it. His hair is wet, his whole body tense with pent-up emotion as he practically snaps at me for being there. I know he's under a lot of pressure, but his harsh words still sting. I watch as he walks away from me, leaving me standing there, feeling like I've just been slapped in the face.

It's not like I came here because I worry about him or because I'm trying to meddle in his affairs. No, I came here because I need to and because in a few hours, we're supposed to go take photos for our engagement announcement. This arrangement comes with things that, even if we don't admit it aloud, we both understand. Expectations, appearances, obligations. My father has been breathing down my neck so I stopped challenging him in hopes that I can also be his favorite child. Not quite, but at least I'll have something to hold over my siblings. Heeseung seems not to care about any of this.

I know he told me to leave but I've cleared my schedule for today and Ujin is busy at the hospital so there's nothing I can do. I've been overthinking about that night, about the perfume, and about the strange encounter with Hana, the influencer wannabe who follows after me. After stalking her account for a whole night, I've realized that she has been copying my style, my poses, and even the way I interact with fans. It's unnerving, to say the least, to see someone trying so hard to imitate me. The thought that she's going after my boyfriend as well crosses my mind but it's too funny. Ujin indeed bought me a new bottle of that perfume and no one actually knows who my boyfriend so I don't entertain that thought. Still, whenever I think about it, unease settles in the pit of my stomach. 

Taking a few pictures of the racetrack, I post them on my social media, trying to distract myself. After our pictures went viral on the internet, I've been getting a lot of attention, both positive and negative. Some fans are excited about our supposed relationship, while others are skeptical and critical. It's not like I mind, this is all a lie and for now, I'll just focus on selling it to the public. 

I can't deny it, he's so good at what he does. I might or might not have spent hours watching his previous races, trying to understand more about him. There's a raw power in the way he handles his car, in the way he pushes himself to the edge of his limits with every turn, every acceleration. It's like he's dancing with death, flirting with danger, and yet he makes it look effortless.

I'm staring at him for longer than I'd like, but I can't tear my gaze away from him. I watch as he talks to a few members of his team, and I don't know if he's scolding them or giving them instructions but his body language is commanding and there's a magnetism to him that draws me in, despite everything. And, before I know it, he looks up at where I'm standing, his gaze locking with mine for a brief moment before he turns away. It's like he can feel my eyes on him, like he knows I'm watching him. I quickly avert my gaze, feeling a flush creeping up my cheeks as I try to focus on something else, anything else, to distract myself from the strange fluttering sensation in my chest. 

Shit, why am I getting so worked up over him? He's just a guy and not even a particularly nice one at that. I need to get a grip on myself.

I sit there, listening to his car rumbling past, each time feeling the vibrations in the pit of my stomach as I work on a video's script. It's strangely a good distraction, and I find myself done with half the work before someone I don't know makes his way toward me. "Who is this pretty girl?" He's dressed in the same racing suit as Heeseung, but the way he looks at me creeps me out. 

I shift uncomfortably under the gaze of the stranger approaching me. His eyes feel invasive like they're stripping me bare. I glance around, but there's no one else nearby, and the racetrack is strangely quiet, the usual roar of the engines replaced by an eerie silence. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"