"All part of your feed-the-world plan?" I tease. "Something like that," he acknowledges, and his lips quirked up in a half smile.
He gazes at the selection of cable ties we stock in the store. What on earth is he going to do with those? I cannot picture him as a do-it-yourselfer at all. His fingers trail across the various packages displayed, and for some inexplicable reason, I have to look away. He bends and selects a packet.
"These will do," he says with his oh-so-secret smile. "Is there anything else?"
"I'd like some masking tape." Masking tape?
"Are you redecorating?" The words are out before I can stop them. Surely he hires laborers or his staff to help him decorate?
"No, not redecorating," he says quickly, then smirks, and I have the uncanny feeling that he's laughing at me.
Am I that funny? Funny looking?
"This way," I murmur, embarrassed. "Masking tape is in the decorating aisle." I glance behind me as he follows.
"Have you worked here long?" His voice is low, and he's gazing at me, concentrating hard. I blush brightly. Why the hell does he have this effect on me? I feel like I'm fourteen years old, as always out of place. eyes front, Seokjin!
"Four years," I muller as we reach our goal. To distract myself, I reach down and select the two widths of masking tape that we stock. "I'll take that one," Kim says softly, pointing to the wider tape, which I pass to him. Our fingers brush very briefly, and the current is there again, zapping through me like I've touched an exposed wire. I gasp involuntarily as I feel it down to somewhere dark and unexplored, deep in my belly. Desperately. I scrabble around for my equilibrium
"Anything else?" My voice is husky and breathy. His eyes widen slightly. "Some rope, I think." His voice mirrors mine, husky.
"This way." I duck my head down to hide my recurring blush and move toward the aisle,
"What sort were you after? We have synthetic and natural filament rope... Twine cable cord." I half at his expression, his eyes darkening, as if it was even possible. Holy cow.
"I'll take five yards of the natural filament rope, please."
Quickly, with trembling fingers, I measure out five yards against the fixed ruler, aware that his hot dark gaze is on me. I dare not look at him, Jeez, could I feel any more self-conscious? Taking my knife from the back pocket of my jeans, I cut it then coll it neatly before tying it in a slipknot. By some miracle, I managed not to remove a finger with my knife.
"Are you interested in any kind of sports?" he asks, sculptured, sensual lips curled in amusement Don't look at his mouth!
"Organized sports activities aren't my thing, Mr. Kim." He arches a brow.
"What is your thing, Seokjin?" he asks, his voice soft, and his secret smile is back. I gaze at him, unable to express myself. I'm on shifting tectonic plates. Try to be cool, Jin, my tortured subconscious begs on my bent knee.
"Books," I whisper, but inside, my subconscious is screaming You! You are my thing! I slap it down instantly, mortified that my psyche is having ideas way out of its league.
"What kind of books?" He cocks his head to one side. Why is he so interested?
"Oh, you know. The usual. The classics, British literature, mainly."
He rubs his chin with his long index finger and thumb as he contemplates my answer. Or perhaps he's just very bored and Trying to hide it. "Anything else you need?" I have to get off this subject-
Those fingers on that face are beguiling.
"I don't know. What else would you recommend?" What would I recommend? I don't even know what you're doing. "For a do-it-yourselfer?"
He nods, his eyes alive with wicked humor. I flush, and my gaze strays to his snug jeans.
"Coveralls," I reply, and I know I'm no longer screening
what's coming out of my mouth.
He raises an eyebrow, amused yet again. "You wouldn't want to ruin your clothing." I gesture vaguely in The direction of his jeans.
"I could always take them off." He smirks.
"Um." I feel the color in my cheeks rising again. I must be the color of The Communist Manifesto. Stop Talking. Stop talking now.
"I'll take some coveralls then. Heaven forbid I should ruin any clothing." he says dryly, I try to dismiss the unwelcome image of him without jeans. "Do you need anything else?" I squeak as I hand him the blue coveralls.
He ignores my inquiry.
"How's the article coming along?"
He's finally asked me an easy question, away from all the innuendo and the confusing double-talk a question I can answer. I grasp it lightly with two hands as if it were a life raft, and I go for honesty.
"I'm not writing it, Jimin is, Mr. Park. My roommate, he's the writer. He's very happy with it. He's the editor of the newspaper, and he was devastated that he couldn't do the interview in person." I feel like I've come up for air at last, a normal topic of conversation. "His only concern is that he doesn't have any original photographs of you."
"What sort of photographs does he want?" Okay, I hadn't factored in this response. I shake my head because I just don't know.
"Well, I'm around. Tomorrow, perhaps."
"You'd be willing to do a photoshoot?" My voice is squeaky again, Jimin will be in seventh heaven if I can pull this off. And you might see him again Tomorrow, that dark place at the base of my brain whispers seductively at me. I dismiss the thought- of all the silly, ridiculous.
"Jimin will be delighted if we can find a photographer." I'm so pleased, I smile at him broadly. His lips part like he's taking a sharp intake of breath, and he blinks. For a fraction of a second, he looks lost somehow, and the earth shifts slightly on its axis, the tectonic plates sliding into a new position.
Oh my. Kim Taehyung's lost look.
"Let me know about tomorrow." Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out his wallet. "My card. It has my cell number on it you'll need to call before Ten in the morning."
"Okay." I grin up at him, Jimin is going to be thrilled
"Jin."
Woojin has materialized at the other end of the aisle, He's Mr. Lee's youngest brother. I wasn't expecting to see him today.
"er, excuse me for a moment, Mr. Kim." Taehyung frowns as I turn away from him.
Woojin has always been a buddy, and in this strange moment that I'm having with the rich, powerful, awesomely off-the-charts attractive control freak Kim, it's great to talk to someone normal. Woojin hugs me hard, taking me by surprise.
"Jin, hi, it's so good to see you!" he gushes.
"Hello, Woojin, how are you? You home for your brother's birthday?"
"Yep. You're looking well, Jin, really well." He grins as he examines me at arm's length. Then he releases me but keeps a possessive arm draped over my shoulder. I shuffle from foot To foot, embarrassed. It's good to see him, but he's always been over-familiar.
When I glance up at Kim Taehyung, he's watching us like a hawk, his eyes hooded and speculative, his mouth a hard, impassive line. He's changed from the weirdly attentive customer To someone else- someone cold and distant.
"Woojin, I'm with a customer. Someone you should meet" I say, trying to defuse the antagonism seen in Kim's expression. I drag Woojin over to meet him, and they size each other up. The atmosphere is suddenly arctic.
"er, Woojin, this is Kim Taehyung, Mr. Kim, this is Lee Woojin. His brother owns the place." And for some irrational reason, I feel I have to explain a bit more.
"I've known Woojin ever since I've worked here, though we don't see each other that often. He's back from America, where he's studying business administration." I'm babbling Stop now!
"Mr. Lee." Taehyung holds his hand out, his look unreadable.
"Mr. Kim." Woojin returns his handshake, "Wait up Kim Taehyung? Of Kim Enterprises Holdings?" Woojin goes from surly to awestruck in less than a nanosecond Taehyung gives him a polite smile that doesn't reach his eyes. -
"Wow is there anything I can get you?"
"Seokjin, has it covered, Mr. Lee. He's been very attentive." His expression is impassive, but his words it's like he's saying something else entirely. It's baffling.
"Cool," Woojin responds. "Catch you later, Jin."
"Sure, Woojin." I watch him disappear toward the stockroom. "Anything else, Mr. Kim?"
"Just these items." His tone is clipped and cool. Damn... have I offended him? Taking a deep breath, I turn and head for the register. What is his problem? I ring up the rope, coveralls, masking tape, and cable ties.
"That will be forty-three dollars, please."(I will be using dollars in the fic in the place of won).I glance up at Kim and I wish I hadn't. He's watching me closely, intently. It's unnerving.
"Would you like a bag?" I ask as I take his credit card.
"Please, Seokjin." His tongue caresses my name, and my heart once again is frantic. I can hardly breathe. Hurriedly, I place his purchases in a plastic bag.
"You'll call me if you want me to do the photoshoot?" He's all business once more. I nod, rendered speechless yet again, and hand back his credit card.
"Goodbye, until tomorrow, perhaps." He turns to leave, then pauses. "Oh and Seokjin, I'm glad Mr Park couldn't do the interview." He smiles, then strides with renewed purpose out of the store, slinging the plastic bag over his shoulder, leaving me a quivering mass of raging hormones. I spend several minutes staring at the closed door through which he's just left before I return to planet Earth.
Okay- I like him. There, I've admitted it to myself. I cannot hide from my feelings anymore. I've never felt like this before. I find him attractive, very attractive. But it's a lost cause, I know, and I sigh with bittersweet regret. It was just a coincidence, his coming here. But still, I can admire him from afar, surely. No harm can come of that. And if I find a photographer, I can do some serious admiring tomorrow. I bite my lip in anticipation and find myself grinning. I need to phone Chim and organize a photo shoot.
[EDITED]