Rental Boyfriend ; Meanie

Chapter 7

Saturated pinks and oranges blossom on the horizon as Mingyu drives on the highway like he’s chasing the last rays of evening sunlight. He’s wearing sunglasses to block the glare of the road, and he looks even more like a model with his hair fluttering in the wind.

“So how was your day, Wonwoo?” Mingyu asks conversationally.

Mingyu turns to Wonwoo when he doesn’t respond finds that the younger man has dozed off, his neck bent at an unnatural angle as he rests his head on his shoulder. Mingyu turns the music down and pulls over to park by the guard rail. He grabs a pillow from his trunk, slipping it beneath Wonwoo’s cheek to prevent a sore neck later on. Wonwoo’s face is so soft and angelic in sleep that Mingyu is overcome with the sudden desire to kiss his cheek. But he holds himself back and climbs back into the driver’s seat, driving in silence for the rest of the trip.

“Wonwoo. Wonwoo, wake up,” Mingyu urges quietly, lightly shaking Wonwoo by the shoulder. “We’re here.”

Wonwoo groans as he rouses from his sleep, disoriented. He blinks confusedly as Mingyu helps him out of the car and closes the door behind him. Wonwoo takes a few shaky steps and then stumbles, but Mingyu catches him and holds him by the waist until they reach the ballroom where the banquet is being held.

Even then, Mingyu keeps him close, his palm brushing against Wonwoo’s back every few seconds, always looking for excuses to touch him. Mingyu steers Wonwoo gently by the elbow when he spots a table lined with hors d’oeuvres.

“This is what I came for,” Mingyu explains as he stuffs a mini quiche into each cheek before washing it down with a glass of champagne.

Wonwoo hasn’t been to many fancy events like this, but he suspects that what Mingyu’s behavior isn’t exactly proper. Most passersby turn a blind eye to Mingyu, but a few stare openly in shock and horror as he clears away half the hors d’oeuvres table. Wonwoo is torn between embarrassment and finding Mingyu strangely adorable.

“This was a mistake,” Mingyu groans after his twentieth mini quiche.

“Are you even going to have room for dinner?” Wonwoo asks skeptically.

“You underestimate me,” Mingyu says, his chest puffing out in indignation. “I’ll be fine, just give me a few minutes to recover from all that quiche.”

Mingyu takes a seat at one of the round dinner tables. A celebrity in the golf world, Mingyu is quickly approached by people dressed to the nines who congratulate him on his nearly flawless performance this year.

“It’s a shame about that last tournament this season, though,” one man muses to Mingyu’s obvious displeasure. A reporter, Wonwoo judges, by the camera hanging around his neck and the notepad in his hand. “You were on a winning streak until that Seungcheol guy came along. Do you feel like he stole that grand slam title from you?”

“He played well and earned that victory,” Mingyu says evenly, carefully avoiding any criticism of his opponent. Wonwoo can tell that the answer isn’t satisfying to the reporter.

“It has to be frustrating, though, to lose to someone who was relatively unknown until now. Do you know what they’re calling him now?”