Ice-heart

ch- 19 Trip

I roll my eyes at him. "You know what I mean."

"Yes, I do. And look, they're not going to be trying to discover some ruse. They'll be busy with the wedding, with preparations, with guests from out of town. We'll breeze through the whole thing easily, with plenty of time to work on the opera house design."

"Mmm."

"But if you do feel like touching me, you have my permission," he says, voice wicked, "but you'd be losing a point."

I want to roll my eyes at him again. "Right, we turned this thing between us into a game. I almost forgot."

"Much safer than confronting it with adult conversation," Taehyung agrees, voice lighter than I've heard it in a long while. Warmth spreads through my chest at his words, at the implication, at the way we talk. Outside the office, with open road in front of us, he seems much more himself.

"Of course," I agree. "The miracle of mutual attraction isn't something to handle maturely."

"Especially not when it involves several HR violations, a potential lawsuit, and a career-changing design project."

"Not to mention a difference in age, class, and race," I point out. "Honestly, we're a walking cliché, Taehyung. Doomed to fail."

His smile turns wry but doesn't disappear. "How tragic. We should be cast in a romantic movie, one of the tearjerker ones."

I chuckle. "Somehow I don't think we're the kind of leads that people would cry for."

"I'm definitely not," he says darkly, and I have to bite my tongue to stop from asking what he means. That I'm pitiable? Or that he's not worthy of sympathy? I don't know which option I dislike the most.

I slip off my shoes and tuck my legs underneath me on the seat, the way I've done for years, and contemplate the sudden change of conversation.

Taehyung glances over at me. "Sit properly."

"Sorry?"

His voice is glacial—the commanding tone he takes with people at work who don't meet deadlines. "Don't sit like that."

I straighten reluctantly. Everything inside me wants to rebel at his tone of voice. "All right," I say. "So I'm your assistant, not your date. Thanks for making that clear."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Taehyung's hands tighten on the wheel until his knuckles whiten. I turn and focus on the scenery, on rolling hills, trees, houses, and try to ignore my irrational hurt. I keep my legs straight, my hands in my lap, sitting like a goddamn crash test dummy.

He's not a realistic love interest—he's not my friend, even—and I would do well to remember that. I have a job to do and a design project to finish. If the jury chooses our opera house, I have a shot at being employed as a junior architect and a future in this industry. The possibility hangs like the most delicious carrot in front of me, spurring me on.

Taehyung finally breaks the silence, his voice resigned. "Look, I didn't mean to snap at you."

"It's all right."

"No, it's clearly not." His profile is strong, the jaw working. "Look, I should probably tell you anyway. My hyung was in a car accident when he was younger."

My hands, folded in my lap, fall limp. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's just... It's important to sit straight, you know. To wear your seat belt properly. It's designed for an adult sitting straight. It seems trivial, but if something happens, that can be the difference."

I can hear the words he chose not to add, the difference between life and death, and I'm afraid to ask, but I have to. "Is he okay?"

"Yes. Jin hyung's strong, and he nearly made a full recovery. But it was way too close." He glances at me briefly, before steeling himself. "He has a limp now. It's nothing major, but you'll notice it."