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Hyperhidrosis. That was Minho's word of the day.
What did that mean? Excessive sweating. Or so a quick Google search had told him a few minutes ago, as his phone slipped around annoyingly in his hand.
"Abnormally excessive sweating involving the extremities, underarms, and face, usually unrelated to body temperature or exercise."
Although in all honesty, Minho knew that was not what was afflicting him today. Because his body had been absolutely burning up all night, and morning. He hadn't been able to sleep, tossing and turning until he had to run to the bathroom and splash cold water on his face. He'd also been pacing all morning, despite being exhausted from total lack of sleep. He could barely force down half a piece of toast and part of a boiled egg for breakfast.
He knew why.
As much as he hated to admit it, he was nervous. He was terrified to finally be going on a first date with you.
Embarrassingly, he'd never really thought about going on a date with you before he arrived at the mansion. He'd been so fucking obsessed with Alaska, he had never thought about anyone else.
But ever since that day in the kitchen, his mind had run wild with fantasies of being with you. Nothing exciting, persay. Just mundane things, like cooking while holding your waist, or going to the grocery store, window shopping, or even going horseback riding. Anything he was to do with you, no matter how boring, you would make it fun. Just being near you was the experience. And now that it was happening - not to mention the fact you were having your first date as a married couple - it was a lot of pressure.
