Translation of Love

30

Warning: mild suggestive content ahead.

Innocent

"Who were you texting?"

At this moment I realize that Yerin really messed him up, and I know he doesn't mean to be this jealous—to basically accuse me of cheating—but his subconscious is clearly still wounded by her.

"It was just Junwoo. He was sending me memes."

He just stares at me as people walk past us, packing things up.

"I couldn't watch you two," I mumble this, but he hears me. A perplexed expression takes hold of his features.

"Why?"

"Because you two looked so perfect."

He grabs my chin, forcing me to look up at him. "To me, you look perfect. Don't ever put yourself down like that."

I'm relieved to see his sweet eyes looking back at me—the cold and distant look gone.

"Please trust me," I whisper this, referring to his accused tone from before.

He looks into both of my eyes, understanding what I'm talking about. He sighs, hand dropping from my chin.

"I'm sorry Sohee. I know I shouldn't but I guess I still worry about it." His hand runs through his hair, a sad frown formed on his face.

"It's okay. Eventually, you'll forget about her."

His gaze lays heavy on me, pausing to comprehend my words.

"God, I don't deserve you." He leans his forehead against mine, a nervous smile on his lips.

I kiss the smile away and watch it turn from nervous to playful.

"Come with me." He grabs my hand and we walk back into the dressing room. Eunji and her assistants are packing up their things.

"Bye Taeyoung," she sweetly says.

For the first time, I see her smile, at him. Then it immediately drops into the nastiest look I've seen in a long time, a look directed at me. Taeyoung doesn't catch it, for his back is turned away.

I don't like her.

I turn around to see Taeyoung unbuttoning his shirt. He looks up at me, his expression soon changing into a smirk.

"Oh I'm sorry, I'm stealing your job." He drops his hands from his shirt and walks towards me.

"W-what?" I stutter, now realizing that the small room is empty.

His hands slowly grab my own, long fingers wrapping around my small ones. Then he brings my hands to the shirt, forming them to hold onto the hems.

It becomes harder for me to breathe, as if the oxygen is draining out of the room, forcing me to gasp for air. I focus on the button my fingers are on. Maybe if I don't look at his face I'll be okay.

So with flushed cheeks, I turn my attention attentively to the cream button, popping it out of the hole and making sure that my fingers don't touch the skin beneath. I carefully go down the line, the top of my head burning from his eyes, which pierce through me.

When I reach the bottom button my whole body moves against my will until it gently hits a wall. Taeyoung stares at my lips for a moment, then at my reddened cheeks. He smirks, his lips turning up on one corner as if pulled by an invisible string. Then he kisses my lips feverishly.