Couchsurfer

You always considered yourself lucky to live in a city such as yours. It had been a dream since you were old enough to have dreams: to live in the buzz of a vibrant, diverse, cultured, beautiful and historic city – and, you made it happen.

Granted, it wasn't always easy. The cost for a flat the size of a cardboard box was near unaffordable for you – especially given your career as a writer was plagued with inconsistent paycheques, and you vowed to never have a permanent roommate again since the last one was such a disaster and left you high and dry and paying for their outstanding 4 months of rent. There were many times your parents insisted you give up and come home, and live under their roof until you found your footing... But you wanted to make it work. This was your dream. Which is why you decided that you could open up the pullout couch in your loft apartment – for a fee – to students, backpackers and econo-travelers to supplement your unpredictable income.

It was easy. A few pictures and a few clicks later, you had a profile up and loaded and soon after you received a message from your first customer... then another... then another. A year into your endeavor, you never lacked for money, company, writing inspiration or stars on your account rating. When the dry months came, you missed the thrill of having a new person, bright-eyed and eager to be shown the city. If you didn't love it so much, you should've been smarter and charged extra for being a tour guide.

Thursday night, in the middle of a long and sticky heat wave, you were frantically moving about your loft trying to prepare for the arrival of your next guest. Unfortunately, the air conditioner had crapped out that morning and you couldn't get your landlord on the phone fast enough to have it repaired before your guest arrived. So, you did you're best to cool the space by sticking fans in the windows and dimming the lights until the repair man could arrive. You hated the idea that someone would visit your home and your city and have a less than par stay.

Sweaty and exasperated, you took a cool shower then slipped yourself into a light, skimpy dress before his arrival. You were just applying a touch of mascara (waterproof, of course) when you heard a knock at the door.

"Just a minute!" you called out. You were hoping it was the repair man there early, but you had your doubts.

When you swung open the door, your doubts were confirmed. Instead of a man standing in a branded jumpsuit donning a toolbox, a man stood in denim jeans and a button up shirt donning a backpack.

"You must be Jimin," you smiled brightly at the man. He smiled back and that's when you took a moment to take him in. He was handsome. Very handsome. A creamy, clean complexion that stretched over his chiseled cheekbones and jawline. Honey blonde hair which somehow made flecks of gold pop within his rich brown irises. And that smile. His smile was what drew you into him the most. The way it touched his eyes. The way it was encircled by the most plush and remarkable lips you'd ever seen. The way it was both warm and devious, confident but adorable. Overall, he was stunning, and you felt a tingle of excitement simmer through you as you drank him in.

"You must be Y/N," he said as he smiled back, sticking out his hand. As you gripped his hand, you notice his eyes flit down the length of your body then back up again to your face. It was only a flash, but it was enough for you to know that he was checking you out, and you were pretty sure he liked what he saw.

"I am," you replied. "Come in, please," you stepped aside and widened the door for him to come in.

"I'm so sorry," you continued as he kicked off his shoes. "It's ridiculously hot in here. The air conditioner died this morning and I'm just waiting for the repair man to come by. They should be here soon!"

"It's fine," Jimin waved his hand. "I haven't seen an air conditioner in months so don't worry about me."

"Just the same, I'd like to do something to pay you back. I'll give you a discount."