{BOOK ONE}...When literature student Jeon Jungkook steps in for his sick roommate to interview young prominent entrepreneur Kim Taehyung, he encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and intimidating, but little does he perceive the encounter wi...
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Jungkook P.O.V.
It's very quiet. The light is muted. I am comfortable and warm, in this bed.
Hmm... I open my eyes, and for a moment, I'm tranquil and serene, enjoying the strange unfamiliar surroundings. I have no idea where I am.
The headboard behind me is in the shape of a massive sun. It's oddly familiar.
The room is large and airy and plushly furnished in browns and golds and beige. I have seen it before. Where though? My befuddled brain struggles through its recent visual memories.
Holy crap. I'm in the Heathman hotel... in a suite. I have stood in a room similar to this with Jimin. This looks bigger.
Once everything clicked in my mind my heart sunk to my stomach. Your so stupid Jungkook! My subconscious self snarls
Oh shit. I'm in Kim Taehyung's suite. How did I get here?
Fractured memories of the previous night come slowly back to haunt me. The drinking, oh no the drinking, the phone call, oh no the phone call, the vomiting, oh no the vomiting. Jaehyun and then Taehyung. Oh no. I cringe inwardly. I don't remember coming here.
I'm wearing my t-shirt, and Underwear. No socks. No jeans. Holy shit.
I glance at the bedside table. On it is a glass of orange juice and two tablets. Advil.
Control freak that he is, he thinks of everything. I sit up and take the tablets. Actually, I don't feel that bad, probably much better than I deserve. The orange juice tastes divine.
It's thirst quenching and refreshing. Nothing beats freshly squeezed orange juice for reviving an arid mouth.
There's a knock on the door.
My heart leaps into my mouth, and I can't seem to find my voice. He opens the door anyway and strolls in.
Holy hell, he's been working out. He's in gray sweat pants that hang, in that way, off his hips and a gray singlet, which is dark with sweat, opposite of his blonde hair. Kim Taehyung's sweat, the notion does odd things to me.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I feel like a two-year old, if I close my eyes then I'm not really here.
"Good morning Jungkook. How are you feeling?"
Oh no.
"Better than I deserve," I mumble.
I peek up at him. He places a large shopping bag on a chair and grasps each end of the towel that he has around his neck. He's staring at me, hazel eyes dark, and as usual, I have no idea what he's thinking. He hides his thoughts and feelings so well.
"How did I get here?" My voice is small, contrite.
He comes and sits down on the edge of the bed. He's close enough for me to touch, for me to smell.
