TOUGH ROMANCE || scoups || BOOK ONE

39

Seungcheol

I woke up to a thud, a yelp, and a curse.

"Hani?" I rasped, unglueing my eyelids. She came into a soft focus at the foot of the bed, where she was performing some kind of gymnastics to get her skirt back on.

"Sorry!" She whispered. "I need to shower before I go to Jennie's for breakfast."

"There's a shower here?" I pointed out, rising on an elbow to watch her drag her shirt on inside out.

"But I need fresh clothes and mascara. A hair dryer. Go back to sleep, Cheol. There's no need for both of us to be walking dead."

I glared at the time on my phone, 7:05 a.m. Four hours didn't really count as spending the night with a woman, I decided.

The appeal of being a bachelor was the fact that my days were dictated by me. I didn't have to work around anyone else's plans or not do what I wanted to do just so they could do what they wanted.

But it seemed unfair even to me that Hani should have to spend the day running on fumes while I slept in. Besides, breakfast did sound good.

My feet hit the floor with a thump.

"What are you doing??" She asked, trying to right her top. It was now right side out, but backwards.

"No reason for you to walk home, shower, and walk back to Jennie's. Not when there's a perfectly good shower here."

"I can't go to breakfast in my uniform!" She said in exasperation. "Doing the walk of shame to family breakfast is not happening."

"Fine. Give me a list."

She looked as if I had just spoken to her in Welsh. "A list of what??"

"What do you need to get through breakfast without shame. You shower. I'll get your stuff."

She stared at me. "You're working awfully hard for just a hook up."

I couldn't say why, but that statement pissed me off. Standing up, I picked a pair of trousers off the floor. "Give me a list." I dragged on the trousers.

She put her hands on her hips and glared at me. "Has anyone told you you're a moody in the mornings?"

"Yes. Every single person who's had the misfortune of seeing me before 10 a.m. Tell me what you want from your place, then get yourself in the shower."

Four minutes later, I was headed out the door with an obscenely long list for a Saturday morning breakfast that my foster mother would preside over in her pajamas.

I jogged through my backyard to hers and came up on the back porch. The hide-a-key had been in the same place since I could remember. In a fake rock in one of the flower boxes on the railing. I snagged the key, fit it into the lock, and found the door was already unlocked.

Great, now I was going to have to lecture her on security.

The cottage smelled like fresh air, baked goods, and lemons. The kitchen was sparkling clean except for the opened mail on the counter. Hani kept it in a small upright organiser, probably alphabetised, but now all the envelopes were fanned out in a sloppy stack.

The rolltop desk in the nook of the living room was open, revealing a mostly tidy workspace with Hani's laptop, a cup of colourful pens, and a stack of notebooks. The bottom drawer was open a few inches.

I took the stairs and swung into the bathroom first to collect the toiletries and half dryer. Then I entered Hani's room and grabbed shorts and a lacy, girly blouse with buttons.