the blind side of love | chaennie

thirty-three

"Please come in?" Jennie Kim said in a tone that sounded almost like pleading. "I promise if you absolutely don't want to do this, you don't have to. But since you're here ..."

Yes, since I'm here, Roseanne thought and nodded, feeling embarrassed for being so transparent in her nervousness. The actress moved to the side, and Roseanne walked in, distracted instantly by the sight of the apartment. The ceiling was at least twenty feet high, and the windows stretched all the way up, leaving a clear view of Manhattan. The walls were pristine white and the floors were light, polished hardwood.

Everything was so beautiful that it took Roseanne a minute to realize that there was no furniture anywhere; no chairs, no couches, no tables. And then the smell of coffee reached her nose and she was distracted all over again.

"Would you like some coffee?" The actress had closed the door and was on the move. Roseanne noticed that she was barefoot and she wondered if she should take off her own shoes. She felt a bit like she was standing in a museum, though it was far warmer, and there was nothing to look at but a beautiful actress that at this moment looked very much like any other person; someone that might've sat beside her in class, or passed by her at a coffee shop.

And the thought of coffee reminded Roseanne that she'd been asked a question. "Um, sure. I'd love some," she said, and followed the actress.

The kitchen was open, facing the incredible view of the city, and everything in it looked like it came out of a professional chef's dream. Jennie Kim might've not had any furniture but she'd clearly spent a fortune on kitchen appliances. "Did you find the building okay?"

"It was hard to miss," Roseanne told her, leaning against the black marble countertop, before thinking perhaps she shouldn't touch anything at all. She moved away and tried not to stare as Jennie Kim moved around the kitchen.

"Yeah, it's a bit of an eyesore." The actress placed a mug in front of Roseanne. "Black?"

Roseanne frowned briefly. "How did you know?"

Jennie Kim smiled and walked to the refrigerator. She took out a bottle of milk and said, "It was in your bio. From the program at the gallery. It said your biggest addictions were ..." She scrunched up her face in thought and counted off in one hand, "Salvador Dali paintings ... watching really bad movies with your best friend ... and black coffee."

Roseanne vaguely recalled writing that. "Oh." She looked down at the steam rising from the mug. "I didn't think anyone actually read those."

The actress poured milk into her own mug. "Well, before inviting you over, I wanted to check that your hobbies didn't include murdering celebrities."

"Oh they edited that part out." Roseanne offered half a smile and picked up her coffee. It was hot but delicious, and she wondered what brand it was.

The actress grinned and then proceeded to put about six spoonfuls of sugar into her mug. Roseanne must have looked horrified because Jennie Kim stopped what she was doing. "What's wrong?"

Roseanne looked down and away. "Nothing."

"No, really. What's the matter?"

Roseanne looked back up and sighed. "You're just massacring that poor coffee."

Brown eyes regarded her curiously, then dropped down to look between the spoon of sugar in her hand and the mug. She looked up again. "I am?"

"Completely. You probably shouldn't even call it coffee now."

"What should I call it?"

The actress looked amused, and Roseanne was relieved that she hadn't offended her. "I don't know ... 'noffee'." She rolled her eyes at her inability to come up with anything better. "You should try it pure ... sometime ... I mean, if you want." She felt like an idiot. She was sure the next words out of the actress' mouth would be, "Who are you to tell Jennie Kim how to take her coffee?"