Play the field- Jimin Park

Chapter Thirteen

I woke up. Thinking about Jimin and what he had said. I close my eyes and sigh.

I threw the blanket off me and checked the time 1.56am. Jimin wasn't home yet, or I don't think he was because I would've heard him. I walked across the room to the windows.

I stared at the view noting what I had already noted vaguely. No time, day or night was Jimin's view bad. Sunshine New York and city lights.

I saw me reflected in the windows.

I had good hair. Even Grace said she wished she had my hair, and her hair was amazing. I also had a lot of it. It was long, past my bra strap at the back. It was shiny even when I didn't use shine-inducing products. A deep, rich, glossy brunette.

I also lucked out in the skin department. When I was younger, around that time of month, I might get a blemish or two, but this stopped in my early twenties. My skin also had the uncanny ability to look good in a rosy, creamy pale way in the winter, but I tanned relatively easily in the summer.

And even I liked my eyes. This was because they were my dad's and my mom always used to look in my eyes, smile her sweet smile, and whisper to me in her sing-song way, "When Irish eyes are smiling..." My Dad was Irish and even though neither of them had been to Ireland, both declared with grave authority that the Irish had the most beautiful eyes in the world. And Mom put Dad and my eyes forward as proof and she did this repeatedly.

I couldn't see them very well in my reflection in the window, but I knew they were a light grey with a very thin ring of midnight blue at the edge of the iris. They were set well in my face and with Mom giving me her dark, long lashes and dark, arched brows, even I had to admit my eyes were striking.

"Hey"

I turn around and there he is standing there "I didn't hear you come in" I tell him

"Are you alright?" he asks

I nod, and then I realise why he asked. I'm sitting at the window staring out as if I'm upset.

"Did you get your shit sorted?" I ask

"Yeah," he answered then asked, "You sleep?"

"A little bit"

Jimin asked, "Hungry?"

For some reason I giggled then explained, "Uh... no, I had stuff when you left"

"You sure?"

I nod "I want some left over Chinese, I'm starving"

"Eugh"

I heard his soft, deep chuckle. I also felt it. I'd never done either and I liked both immensely.

Then he told me, "Got a quota, baby, I cook once a week. You got that thrill. I'll take you out for something."

A date. In fact, that day had been the longest, weirdest, strangely most comprehensive date in history even though I'd showed at his place to tell him I never wanted to see him again. We'd shared. We'd touched. We'd had profound moments of intensity. He'd cooked for me. I'd napped in his house. And now we were going out to eat together for the first time.

"When?" I ask

"Whenever you want"

-----

I was lying in bed, feeling my new soft sheets, thinking Jimin's satin ones were probably way softer, staring at my ceiling and thinking that Jimin had claimed me, no doubt about it, he had still to kiss me passionately.

Dinner was great. He took me to Nobu. Sushi restaurant if I'm not mistaken. We talked shit and laughed together which was extremely nice. I was finally at ease. Jimin always seemed at ease even when he was pissed or annoyed. He was just Jimin. And I settled into that.