Under your angelic body

Pumpkin Latte and the Muffin

Hoseok's POV

"You didn't have to pay for the shoes you know," she says as we start walking towards the exit of the mall.

"Do you want me to give you a ride home?" I ask her, ignoring her comment.

I can't believe I'm asking this a girl like her, I feel like it's the least I could do for her after all her help. It's late and getting dark.

"No thanks, it's ok," she says. "Besides, as nice as your car is I'd probably cramp up having to duck down the entire time," she scoffs.

"What do you mean?" I ask her.

She shifts awkwardly, shrugging, "I'm sure you don't want to be seen with me, so I'd have to fold myself over like a pretzel, and I'm really not that flexible. Anyway, drive home safe, ok?"

I look at her and come to the realization that I'd trust this girl with my life. I wanna give her that kind of hug that lifts her tiny body off the ground.

I'm embarrassed and don't know what to reply. She's already walked off. I'm not sure whether to be mad at her for refusing me, or mad at myself. I'm frustrated. I yank open the car door, jump in, and slam it shut.

I watch her walk away as she becomes nothing more than a distant shadow. I feel like sulking as the dome light slowly fades out, leaving me in the dark car in the middle of the empty parking lot. "Fuck this shit," I grumble to no one in particular, turning the ignition.

Just then, my cell phone rings. I don't recognize the number, but answer it anyway.

"Yea"

"Hoseok."

For a moment, I'm elated at hearing her voice. I'm not sure why, though; I'm puzzled at my own reaction.

"Hey, did you change your mind about the ride?" I ask Layla.

I still can't believe the words that leave my mouth, but it's like I keep pushing the subject despite her refusal, based on principle alone. After all, she rejected me and I don't like being told 'no'.

"No, but thank you anyway. I just wanted to tell you to look inside your pocket, so it doesn't get lost. See you at the library tomorrow," Layla says as she hangs up the phone.

"La..." I try to say in vain before she hangs up. "What the hell." No one has ever just left me or hung up on me, and she just did both in less than a minute.

Perplexed, I tuck away my iPhone and look in the pocket of my jacket.

"Layla," I grumble with a frustrated tone. Inside I find the money. "Why don't you ever listen?"

I sigh, unaware of the smile creeping up on my face.

The first thing I do next morning is driving to the coffee shop she's working at. Thankfully, this one has a drive thru.

I hate to admit this, but she has the sweetest voice I've ever heard. Cheerful and friendly; not the kind that's drilled into you by managers, but sincere sounding. It's always hard to tell by her voice, but I'm guessing she's happy. Perhaps I have something to do with that.

"Pumpkin latte with cinnamon, please. No whipped cream. And a blueberry muffin."

I smile as she repeats it back, putting a little pop into the 'p."

"Will there be anything else?" she asks, her voice not losing any of its allure despite issuing from the metal box just left of the menu board.

A kiss, I muse, but leave the thought unspoken.

Don't be fucking silly, Hobi. Why am I feeling this way?

"Just that," instead, unable to resist a hint of bedroom seduction in my words, just enough to make me smile, sure that it would go unnoticed as I drive slowly up to the window.

And yes, I guessed right. She looks happy. Her hair is pulled back, her curly sideburns decorating her face. Lovely cheekbones define her face and her unadorned lips are full. The kind of lips that beg to be kissed.

Stop it Hoseok.

"It's you," she chirps, leaning slightly out the drive thru window to hand me my coffee and a bag. It's impossible not to notice the strain they put on the buttons of her uniform blouse.

"Hey hippie," I smile, trying my best not to acknowledge the slight thrill that sizzles through me as our hands briefly touch, my pumpkin latte poised between us.

"Don't call me that," she laughs, seemingly oblivious to the desire that the mere brush of fingers stir up in me. So charmingly naïve.

"When is your shift over?" I ask her, pulling my attention from her lovely breasts to her face, trying to fathom something from her gaze, but coming up empty.

"In ten minutes," she replies, "why?"

The car behind me starts to honk and I throw my middle finger in his direction.

"Meet me there," I say, nodding towards the parking lot.

"Why?" she asks me with a frown between her thick eyebrows.

"I have a question about yesterday's chapter," I lie. "Need your help."

Thoughts of seduction tease the corners of my brain as I drive off, absently plucking the muffin from the bag and biting softly on it as if it was the cotton candy melting down on the creamy icecream, or maybe on her. My cheeks start coloring a little at just how inappropriate my thoughts are. Not because they are inappropriate, but because they are about the most innocent looking girl at the university.

I am not proud of it, but as soon as I to the empty parking lot, I begin a new ritual, one tied to my daily morning coffee and muffin run; I unzip my jeans and pull my friend out, unsurprised at how fucking hard I am.

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