I step into the elevator and turn around to face the open doors, admiring the extravagance of the lobby. This place seems more like a historic hotel than an apartment.
When jeongyeon said I could stay with him until I found a job, I had no idea he lived like an actual adult. I thought it would be similar to the last time I visited him.
I find the panel and press the button for the eighteenth floor, then look up at the mirrored wall of the elevator. I spent all day yesterday and most of this morning packing up everything I own from my apartment back in San Diego.
As soon as the elevator doors begin to close, they open again. A guy is rushing toward the elevators. This man looks to be in his late twenties at most. He grins at me, and I know exactly what’s going through his mind, considering he just slid his left hand into his pocket.
The hand with the wedding ring on it. His eyes fall to what little cleavage is peeking out of my shirt, and then he looks at the suitcase by my side. I press the button for floor ten. I should have worn a sweater.
“Moving in?” he asks, blatantly staring at my shirt again.
I nod, although I doubt he notices, considering his gaze isn’t planted anywhere near my face.
“What floor?”
Oh, no, you don’t. I reach beside me and cover all the buttons on the panel with my hands to hide the illuminated eighteenth-floor button, and then I press every single button between floors ten and eighteen. He glances at the panel, confused.
“None of your business,” I say.
He laughs.
He thinks I’m kidding.
He arches his dark, thick eyebrow. It's a nice eyebrow. It’s attached to a nice face, which is attached to a nice head, which is attached to a nice body.
A married body.
Asshole.
He grins seductively after seeing me check him out—only I wasn’t checking him out the way he thinks I was. In my mind, I was wondering how many times that body has been pressed against a girl who wasn’t his wife.
I feel sorry for his wife.
He’s looking at my cleavage again when we reach floor ten. “I can help you with that,” he says, nodding toward my suitcase. His voice is nice. I wonder how many girls have fallen for that married voice. He walks toward me and reaches to the panel, bravely pressing the button that closes the doors.
I hold his stare and press the button to open the doors. “I’ve got it.”
He nods as if he understands, but there’s still a wicked gleam in his eyes that reaffirms my immediate dislike of him. He steps out of the elevator and turns to face me before walking away.
“Catch you later, Mina,” he says, just as the doors close.
I frown, not comfortable with the fact that I haven't interacted with anyone since walking into this apartment building and he already know who I am.
