Scandal

6: The Track

"Yoongi, I—"

His lips pressed onto mine, effectively putting an abrupt stop to my sentence. I momentarily forgot what I came to his studio for—his arms were drawing lazy circles on my back under my shirt, and it was all too easy to get lost in the headiness of his woodsy scent and his tongue dancing on my cupid's bow.

"Hi," he murmured against my mouth, one hand leaving my skin to reach behind me. He pushed on the lock and swung me around, pressing his torso against mine. I staggered backward until the back of my knees came in contact with the leather two-seater squeezed in between the shelves.

I yelped, instinctively grabbing Yoongi's forearms to prevent myself from falling, but he pushed on, carrying my weight and gently lowering our bodies on the sofa.

Wait. I came to his studio to talk.

Yoongi's mouth trailed hot kisses down my neck, while his fingers slid to my front, deftly unzipping my jacket. His hips were heavy on top of mine, and I could already feel him hardening against my inner thigh. Warmth bloomed deep in my core in anticipation.

Holding on to the last shred of my resolve, I grabbed both his cheeks and forced him to face me. "Wait," I gasped, unable to resist flexing my fingertips through his sideburns.

He scrunched his eyebrows together, annoyed at the interruption.

I didn't want to stop either, but the adult in me wanted to actually speak to him. "About this morning," I began, searching his eyes for any indication of what he might be thinking about what he saw in the dance room. They narrowed fractionally, but he didn't say anything. "Hoseok-oppa and I are—"

"—just friends," he cut in, planting both hands on either side of me and hauling himself up.

He stood in front of the couch as I awkwardly pulled myself up to sitting position. My jacket was gaping open and my tank top was askew, but I fought the urge to cover up. "Yeah," I continued, resenting how small my voice sounded. "I just wanted to be clear," I explained lamely.

Yoongi stared at me for a full five seconds before giving a small nod. "Hobi told us. Don't worry about it." I looked up. He had his usual blank expression pasted on his face.

Something started to bubble in my gut. Would it kill him to at least be concerned that I was with another guy? He was livid when I danced with Hoseok-oppa during the party—but this morning was okay?

That's because the two of you are not anything, adult rational me pointed out. I feel my heart constrict.

Of course. No matter how intimate they got, it would only ever be purely physical for Yoongi. Despite the things he had said, there would never be any attempt to move their relationship to the next level because there was no relationship. Why did I keep forgetting that?

Because your heart is running away from your brain, adult me smirked.

As much as I wanted to tell myself that I could be that girl—the kind who engaged in meaningless affairs like this just to satisfy some urges, I simply couldn't.

Yoongi and I were not on the same page—we weren't even on the same damn book.

"Ya." His voice pulled me back to the present. He was frowning. "What's wrong?"

I couldn't control my own damn feelings, that's what's wrong. "Nothing," I replied automatically, shifting my gaze to his cluttered desk. It was overflowing with papers and his equipment was on; he must be working on a song. I should get going.