𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐀𝐧𝐚. 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲, 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤.♡

Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ ＶＩＩ

"What about you?" she asks aloud. "You're literally dripping." As if summoned, another drop of sweat free-falls from my chin and onto the floor.

"It's okay. I'll be fine, " I quickly reply.

"Well aren't you a tough cookie?" she giggles. "Get it? Tough? Kookie? Jungkookie?"

I almost snort. And as if that wasn't enough, the nickname she used made this weird sensation creep onto my stomach.

After she's done drying her skin, she crouches down to take a look at the wound that still kept trickling blood. Her careful fingers roll the dirtied bandage around her knee to reveal such a nasty sight, I almost gasp in surprise. The blood had smeared the skin around the edges and on its center there's a blackish liquid that looks like anything but blood.

"Oh shit, " she whispers, obviously not expecting the wound to be in such a degree. I move forward with worry in my trembling form but she's quick to stop me."No, it's okay. I got it."

"But it looks really ba-"

"Thanks Juan, but I said I can handle it."

I silently get back and let her do the work herself. She seemed so used to this process, as if she had done it countless of times before. Her hands are quick and agile, snatching the alcohol and cotton pads and then proceeding to wrap brand new bandages around her knee. Not a single hiss or whine falls from her lips. After she successfully finishes, she lifts her head to gift me a charming innocent smile. As if she hadn't just split her knee open. This girl...

After that, the room falls into an awkward silence so I keep looking everywhere else but her. "Do you want something to drink?" I offer.

"Once a waiter, always a waiter, " she sighs while scratching her forehead.

"Okay, what do you have?"

"Let me check," I announce and head to the fridge without another word. I examine the contents within and yell from across the room. "Um... coke?" "I don't do drugs, " she yells back.

"As in the drink, Jojo."

"Oh. What kind?"

"The regular one."

"No diet coke?"

"No. Sorry."

"Okay, just get me a glass of water."

I come back with the glass and hesitate a split second before handing it to her.

"I really like your place, Juan," she says after a tiny sip. "Its so....you."

A discouraged laugh escapes from me. "You don't even know me."

"Says who? I'm excellent at knowing people's personalities on first sight, " she continues after another sip.

"What about you then?" I suddenly ask.

"My place or my personality?"

"Both."

She considers it a moment before answering. "Well, both suck compared to you. Especially my apartment, Juan. You wouldn't believe the fucking mess I make all the time."

She sounded nonchalant about the matter but I could sense the discomfort behind the words. She was having it harder than she let on.

"What are you gonna do from now on?" I ask, careful not to sound intrusive. "You lost your job right? How are you gonna pay your rent?

She plasters a smile on her face. "I'll figure something out."

Before I can push it further with my vast myriad of questions, she rises from the couch and sets the glass on the table. " Well, I better go now. Thanks for the help, Juan. I'll see you around."

I watch with frozen limbs as she makes her way towards the door with that tilt on her step and wonder if I really was crazy after the next words I hear coming out of my mouth.

"Wait!"

She slowly turns around and gives me a curious look.

"I have a proposal, " I say before I can regret it.

She grins in response. "Thanks but I'm too young to get married."

"No, not that. I was wondering... I mean if you want to...." I've never felt more nervous in my life. My words keep stumbling into one another and I can barely keep the the inexplicable stutter out of my voice. "You can—you can work at the coffee shop with me. I can convince my boss to get you the job."

She smiles and pivots on her heel. " Yeah, right."

"Hey, I'm serious."

"Forget it, " she says without turning around.

"Why forget it? Aren't you struggling?"

For a moment it seems like I've caught her attention. She pauses in her steps and slowly turns around until she's completely facing me. There are no more hints of smiles or amusement. Just a blank expression that for some reason looks sadder than anything else. "I don't want your pity."

"Its not pity, " I protest. "We've been short of staff anyway and you need a job. It's a win-win for both of us."

She takes a deep breath and lets it out just as harshly. "Why are you doing this, Juan? The hospital and the bandages and everything... Why are you helping me?"

"I like helping people, " I simply reply.

"Some people don't like to be helped."

"Well, if you think that, you're an idiot!" I snap as a pinch of anger sneaks into my voice.

She raises an eyebrow.

"Look, " I continue. "I don't know if I've done something wrong or if you just don't like people in general. I was just trying to help. If you don't want it, the door's right there."

Okay, now I really fucked up. I'd never been so straight-forward to someone before but it was like her sharp jabs had forced the harsh words right out of my mouth. Sometimes, the frustration overwhelmed me to the point I couldn't tell right from wrong.

She's frozen in her spot, wide eyes staring at me in a mix of shock and wonder. But then, her eyes slowly drag along my body, giving me a once-over before setting on my face. Her lips crack into a lopsided grin that was anything but innocent. "I like you, Juan, " she says and heads for the door before pausing on the threshold. "And I'll think about your offer."

The door closes shut behind her and just like that, she's gone.