Under your angelic body

Changed

"Carmen is jealous by the way," she chuckles, looking outside the passenger window. "She's crazy about you, you know. She thinks you're just about the prettiest thing since God made the sunset."

I laugh, "Well, maybe after we get you caught up to the present day and time, I'll take her shopping too."

She frowns a little bit, the jealousy clear on her face. "Hey, why don't you stop at this K-Mart up ahead? We can get my stuff in there."

I intentionally accelerate the gas pedal, blasting past the entrance.

"And, there it goes..." she says sarcastically with just a hint of her dry humor, looking over her shoulder through the window.

"K-Mart, really? K-Mart is America's fucking lint trap. That's where you go if you want a stick of beef jerky and a three-pack of wifebeaters. And a case of 40's, if you're not in a dry county. What did I say about trusting me?"

"I know, I know," she sighs, pausing for a moment before asking, "40's?"

"Code for beer. As in ounces. This is going to be harder than I thought, Layla Beaumont."

She seems unphased by my response, unconcerned whether I'm joking or serious.

"Lucky for you. You can't throw a rock around here without it landing in some outlet mall parking lot. The state nickname is The Outlet Mall State, I'm pretty sure."

Layla laughs, shaking her head, "Outlet Mall State? We need to do practice for your U.S. Geography."

I glare at her, although unable to hide the twinkle in my eye, "I was being sarcastic; shut up."

After two malls, one hair salon, three sports stores, six clothing stores, and seven hundred dollars later, Layla is a changed girl.

At least on the outside.

To say I'm greatly satisfied on the drive back to Layla's apartment is an understatement. Wearing a smile from ear to ear, I can't remember the last time I had this much fun, even if Layla did sound a little too whiny about her tight fitting Levi's jeans and professionally styled hair. I keep most of my focus on the road, but occasionally steal a few glances in her direction.

Layla. Hot. Before, those two words didn't belong together much less fit in the same sentence. She's still a nerd and a hippie from the inside, of course, even though I would never tell her that. Besides, she knows. And doesn't care. I would have chuckled to myself if Layla wasn't sitting next to me, but I hold it back. I have to admit: her self-confidence is very impressive.

A sudden buzz cuts out the sound of the radio as an incoming phone number flashes across my console.

"Fuck me," I groan, recognizing the phone number displayed.

"What is it," Layla asks.

"It's Jennie. We were supposed to go to dinner tonight. I totally lost track of time. She's going to be pissed."

"You can just drop me off here; I'll call a cab. That'll save you a bunch of time since you'd have to drive all the way across town to drop me off," Layla offers kindly as ever. "No," I cut her off, reluctantly pulling my phone out of my pocket. I take a quick glance at my phone, disengaging the Bluetooth function. Layla's eyes grow wide as the car drifts towards the shoulder.

"Hoseok..." Layla says nervously.

I swing back towards the middle of my lane and pull the phone up to my ear.

"Hey babe," I start. Jennie is already barking at the other end of the phone; Layla flinches, clearly able to hear her but keeping it to herself.

"I'm running a little behind. Give me about an hour. And don't talk to me like that," I clench my jaw, my grip tightening.