No Love Allowed

Nine

Feeling good about her outfit choice that bright Sunday morning, Suzy gave the overall look one last mirror check as the beeps of a car horn signaled Sehun's arrival. Having chosen to keep her hair in a half ponytail, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and did a quick smile test in case any lipstick on her front teeth. The last thing she wanted was to run out of the house and greet Sehun with a red smear in her mouth. Not attractive at all.

Satisfied and excited to show him what she had come up with for their first event together as a fake couple, she grabbed the cute watermelon clutch she had found at a thrift store. Opening it, she placed her house keys, the lipstick she used - borrowed from her mom - and a twenty just in case.

At the third beep, she skipped to the front door with a huge smile.

In seconds she was out the front door and locking it behind her. When she turned around her breath caught.

Leaning against the passenger door of his car with his hands in his pockets was Sehun, in an flawless white linen suit with a teal shirt opened at the collar. Without product, his hair fell in natural waves - like dark, wind-blowing halo. He took her breath away, and they both matched: wearing white as if they had discussed it.

Hand to her chest, she checked to see if her heart still worked. Definitely a skip in the beats. She caught herself thinking how lucky she was to have such a mouthwatering fake boyfriend. Oh, this summer had just gotten better . . . until she noticed the scowl upon his features.

__ NO LOVE ALLOWED __

What the hell was she wearing?

It took all of Sehun's willpower not to smack his forehead. He's known she shouldn't have trusted her with picking out what to wear for the garden party. A white dress, sure, but she had freaking hand prints in places there shouldn't have been. All the blood in his head traveled elsewhere as he pushed away from the car and walked to her.

"Sehun?" She took several steps toward him, then stopped once he reached her. "What's wrong?"

"What the hell are you wearing?" he almost yelled.

As if she hadn't heard the heat in his tone, she looked at the tight thing she called a dress. It had thing straps and an asymmetric hemline that cut so high up one thigh . . . he was no longer thinking with the proper body parts. She had paired it with red open-toe heels and a stupid watermelon clutch. He breathed out heavily.

"You don't like it?"

"We're not going clubbing!" He inhaled, but not enough air entered his burning lungs. He might have been having a small heart attack. "You have hand prints covering your breasts."

"Oh, these?" She covered her breasts with her hands to show him. "They're my hands, see? Since the last time I wore this to paint, I decided to -"

"Stop!" He raised a hand with the word, then shoved shaking fingers through his hair. "I . . . I can't . . ." He swallowed, then dropped his eyes to the grass. "The grass is the safest place to look right now."

She smiled and grabbed her breasts again, squeezing. "You think I look hot. Is that why you're as red as these hand prints?"

"Aish." He cursed under his breath and took a huge step back. "Please, if you have any mercy left, stop touching your breasts."

"Good to know." She laughed. "Let's go. You wouldn't want to be late for this garden party of yours. Daddy dearest might get angry." She headed toward the car.

Running on autopilot, Sehun turned around and overtook her. As he opened the door, he made sure to kept his eyes firmly on the ground. She laughed some more.