Before I even opened my eyes, I knew something was wrong. I wasn't in my bed like I should be, surrounded by the pale blue comforter I bought with Eomma a few months ago. The fabric under my fingertips was cool and kind of scratchy.
Evidence number two: It smelled different. Not in a bad way. Just not like the cherry blossom air freshener that Eomma loved and sprayed all over the house. I usually countered it by walking around the house with vanilla candles. Eomma had gotten tired of smelling the same scent for four years, so she decided to switch to cherry blossom.
I sucked in another breath just to be sure. Nope, there were cherry blossom or vanilla of any kind here. Instead, it smelled like cotton with a faint scent of ocean.
But the most evidence shown was the muscular bare back of a half-naked - at least I hoped it was just half, since I couldn't see beneath the navy blue blanket wrapped around his hips - guy lying next to me. Who definitely should not be in my bed.
"Omo. Omo. Omo! My voice came out in a hoarse squeak. I squeezed my eyes shut before opening them again. Once. Twice. Over and over until fuzzy stars appeared on the white ceiling - a ceiling that was also not mine - but he wouldn't disappear.
And the stars didn't help my throbbing head. Why hadn't anyone warned me that drinking would make me feel like crap the next day?
With shaky hands, I looked under the covers, and - whoosh - a sigh of relief escaped. Thank goodness I was fully clothed. If you call the lacy black tank and black shorts that Soyeon had made me wore the night before fully clothed. But besides that everything else looked normal. Except for the strange room and the half-naked man I was in bed with.
I was in a lot of trouble. Why had I let Soyeon drag me to that party last night? (Note to self: Nothing good ever comes from listening to that girl.) But she'd caught me in a weak moment. Granted. I had a bunch of weak moments after I got my wait-list letter from Korea University Law School.
But seriously, me, Suzy Bae. Wait-listed! I still couldn't believe it. Didn't they know who I was? Did they even look at my application, for goodness's sake? It was immaculate, and I turned it in extra early. I even had to add an extra page for my list of accomplishments. I should have been a shoo-in.
But the months passed, and no acceptance letter. And they didn't respond to my e-mails and phone calls to check if their computers were down. Or if the acceptance committee was all sick and hospital-bound. Nothing. Until finally, a paltry wait-list letter last month.
Anyway, that wasn't the point. Not really. The point was that I'd been dragged to the party . . . and then I'd left. Obviously. But where was I now? And how did I get here? Where was Soyeon, and why hadn't she stopped me or -
"Hmph." The guy flopped onto his stomach, away from me.
Heart racing. I could barely move. My chest tightened, but I didn't breathe, didn't blink, until the soft snoring from his side of the bed resumed. And even then, I could only let out short half breaths.
That was close. Too close. I needed to get out of here. Now.
I carefully eased off the bed, inch by inch, wincing as the slight movement made my head pound harder. My toes touched the soft carpet, and I push myself upright, freezing for a full minute every time the bed creaked. Only a bit farther.
After what felt like hours - although it was probably only a few minutes - I slipped off the edge of the bed and took a step toward the door. Big mistake. The floor's creak was like a shot gun basting across the room. The guy stirred, and I dove toward the ground, landing on the dark red carpet with a soft thump. My head smacked against my forearm. Ouch.
What the . . .? A name was written on my left forearm in my neat handwriting. My name. Suzy Bae. How hammered had I been to write my own name on my arm? Seriously, what happened last night?
There was no time to think about it now. Still on my hands and knees. I stumbled around the dark room for my silver sandals. The only noise was the soft snoring from the lump on the bed.
Still . . . who was my partner in crime? Could it be someone I knew, or was it - holy crap - a random guy I met at the party? I was a harlot like in those Regency romance books I hid int he back of my nightstand?
Or was courtesan the right word? It sounded classier, at least.
"Omo." I shook my head and resisted the urge to smack my palm against my forehead. Now wasn't the time to get technical.
A ray of sunlight shone through the top of the window shades, casting a shadow over his face, which was still somewhat buried in the pillows. I looked over the edge of the bed but couldn't see more than his muscular, tanned back. I thought his hair was dark, but I couldn't be sure. Even though I knew I should get out of here, a part of me - probably the part that was still drunk - hesitated. I had to know who he was. But each time I tried to get closer, the damn floor kept creaking.
Aish, what kind of house was this?
Against my better judgement, I snooped around the room, careful to crawl on my elbows and stomach like a soldier on an enemy territory. Tennis shoes, video games, textbooks with crisp pages that hadn't been used very often, an admirable collection of old-school comic . . . Bingo! I hit the jackpot when I threw a dirty magazine out of the way and found a stack of pictures. I shoved my tangled, dark hair out of my face and moved a little closer to the light.
Cars and girls. Loads of them. Girls, I mean. And there was a lot of skin in most of them. My cheeks flushed at a picture of a girl and the minuscule bikini that could barely hold her large breast, which she thrust toward the camera with a coy smile. I couldn't even tell if she was a ginger head or a brunette. Just teeth, lips, and breasts. Flip. A blonde with breasts. Another blonde with breasts. A picture of someone's legs on the beach.
"Come on. Show your face," I muttered with a quick upward glance to make sure my unknown partner was still sleeping. He was.
Finally I found a picture with a guy in it. He was standing in profile, but his face was turned toward the camera, dipped down toward - what else? - more breasts. His nose was pretty straight, aside from the smallest bump at the bridge. Slightly dark blonde hair. Laughing dark brown eyes that glanced to the side. His jaw was sort of angled, probably from underbite, but it suited him. Especially when he smiled. So very hot.
And familiar.
My head turned to the smooth, lounging back. Then I focused on the tiny glimpse of black characters trailing down his left forearm. I'd seen that tattoo close-up once before. Everyone claimed it meant "Just live once." But for all I know, it could mean "Bubble Tea is Life."
A low groan escaped my lips. No, no, no. Not him. Anybody but Sehun Oh, Sacred Heart High School's very own legendary manwhore. Said to have screwed so many girls that he had to get a new surfboard, because his old one was full of nicks in memory of each new girl.
Killing any remaining traces of hope that I was wrong, he stretched out his left arm, and I could see his name written on his written. Sehun Oh. In my handwriting.
WHERE WERE THOSE SANDALS?
I crawled around so fast. I was pretty sure I'd have permanent carpet burn on my elbows. I didn't care. If anyone caught me within a yard of Sehun, the rumors would explode. It had been hard enough to squash the gossip that spread last year when I'd nearly drowned in the Song's community pool and he'd saved me. Since then, I'd avoid anything that had to do with him.
Which would really suck if anyone knew I'd spent the night in his bed.
Shoes, shoes . . . maybe I didn't need them. Appa had bought them for me when I became editor of the school yearbook. He probably wouldn't have notice that they were missing, but Eomma definitely would. She'd been the one who persuaded him to get them for me despite their ridiculous price - you would have thought the crystals were real diamonds - instead of the modest black pumps I needed for my internship at his law firm next year. 'You need something pretty! Something fun!" she kept saying over and over. Weird how I was more like Appa, even though I wasn't his biological daughter. The only things I'd gotten from Eomma was her eyes and hair.
And she would give me problems if I didn't have my shoes. Besides, I didn't know know far from home I was. And I already wasn't looking forward to the walk of shame I had ahead of me. I crawled even more beneath the bed, arms spread out in search.
A sleepy male voice echoed with amusement suddenly drifted over my head. "They're under my desk."
"What?" I scrambled out and shot upright, smacking the back of my head against Sehun's jaw. He must have been leaning over the bed, watching me. A loud crack echoed through the room before we both sprang apart, each groaning loudly. Ow, his jaw was as hard as a hammer, but he'd knocked whatever literary sense I had out of me.
When the pain finally eased, I looked up. Sehun was turned to the side, slightly bent over, both hands massaging his cheeks and jaw as though checking if anything was broken. With a mind of their own, my eyes slid down his body. I'd seen him at the pool and gym before, but I'd never actually looked at him. At least, not this closely.
Light freckles were sprinkled where his tan shoulders and back came together. Thank goodness was he was wearing a pair of wrinkled shorts - although they wore pretty low on his hips. On one side, a pale line peeked out beneath his tan. A spot that was probably never in the sun and no one ever saw. At least no one he wasn't sleeping with.
"Uh . . ." My head nearly burst from instant heat that climbed to my cheeks. I focused my eyes away from him to a tropical postcard hanging on the edge of his mirror, squashing the unwanted yet not unreasonable disappointment that he was wearing clothes. This was not the time to be ogling Sehun Oh.
"I think I should say good morning." He stretched his arms over his head and smiled down at me, enjoying my discomfort. I saw his lean biceps ripple distractingly out of the corner of my eye. "Isn't that what people supposed to say first thing in the morning?"
Look away, Suzy. Look away. I looked away to the palm of my hands. "I don't know. Shouldn't you know the morning-after protocol better than me?" Damn, I shouldn't have said that.
To my surprise, he threw his head back and laughed. "Yeah, I guess there's no denying that truth."
I closed my mouth before anything else inappropriate slipped out, and my eyes longingly glanced toward the door. I should have escaped when I had the chance.
Did we have to go through the polite pleasantries? Can't we just forget about each other as though last night (and this morning) hadn't happened? Like we didn't know each other?
Omo. He probably didn't know me. Just because I knew who he was didn't mean he knew who I was. Aside from my choking out "Thank you" after he'd saved me at the pool, we'd never spoken to each other before (or since). Not to mention, I had looked like a drowned cat that day, so I kind of hoped he didn't remember. Besides, he must have saved hundreds of girls in the past year. I'd even seen a girl pretend to drown in front of him just to get some lip action.
No, Sehun couldn't possibly remember. I was just an average one-night - wait, we hadn't slept together, so scratch that. I was a random, strange girl in his room. And it was going to stay that way.
I climbed to my feet, intending to make a quick escape, when a wave of nausea caught me by surprise. My mouth filled with a bitter taste. Ugh. I pressed my hands against my mouth as my vision blurred.
Sehun reached forward as though he was going to catch me. Either me or my vomit. I automatically backed up a few steps until my back was pressed against his desk chair.
"The bathroom's over there," he said with a flicked of his thumb over his right shoulder. "I guess you're a bit of a lightweight, huh?"
Pride made me swallow back the bile that struggled to climb out of my throat. "No, I'm all right," I choked out.
"Are you sure? I mean, you really shouldn't be keeping it in. Especially if you're going to eat breakfast. You know, eggs, cereal, or bacon. Or sausages, if you prefer that. Me, I like the crunchiness of bacon. Especially when paired with some warm pancakes and syrup that drips all over the place and runs down -"
The images he painted made me want to give up the fight and throw up on the carpet right there. "No, just - stop. I can't -" I stopped trying to breathe since the air was making everything worse, and I clenched my lips tightly together instead. I squeezed my eyes closed. I will not throw up. I forbid myself to throw up.
My eyes popped open again when Sehun pried my fingers away from my face. I was too surprised by his touch to react. His laughing brown eyes twinkled down at me. He placed an unopened water bottle in my hand and wrapped my fingers around it. "Here, drink this. You'll feel better."
"I can't."
"Trust me. I know how to handle hangovers better than you." His hands moved up my shoulders and pushed my down on the cushioned chair. "Seriously, just drink it. It's not poison. I promise."
I eyed the water. "And I'm just supposed to take your word for it?"
"No, you'll take my word for it because if you don't have a choice," he said with a snort. "Besides, if you vomit in here, I'll have to clean it up, and you bet your ass I'm not doing that."
Hmm. He had a point. I took the bottle and forced myself to drink. It threatened to come back up, but I didn't stop until it was empty. My full stomach uncomfortably, but I didn't feel like I was going to die anymore.
As Sehun watched me, his brows furrowed together until they were practically one dark line. Suddenly, he reached out and touched my forehead.
I jerked my head back and batted his hand away, despite the fact it was nice and warm against my clammy skin. My fingertips massaged my forehead, and I willed the whole situation to go away. More than anything, I wished this was just a bad nightmare and that I was actually all snug in bed. "Sh!t, I'm in so much trouble. I'm supposed to meet Minho about the alumni sppech. But not before I KILL Soyeon and - why are smiling?"
"Nothing, it just . . ." His smile grew so wide that his eyes became slits. "You don't look like the type of girl who curses much. It's sort of weird."
I stared at him. My life was turned upside down, and that was the most important thing on his mind right now? "Well, I do when the situation calls for it. And believe me, this calls for it. Sh!t. Sh!t. Sh!t." I actually wasn't used to cursing, but this was a special occasion. And I was offended by his comment. Like I was some type of Goody-Two Shoes. I would've thought waking up in his bed should have eliminated that possibility.
And why did I even care what he thought of me?
Sehun let out a low whistle. "Okay, I get it, Suzy. You're a badass. Don't make me censor you."
"Whatever. I'm sure you've said much worse -" Wait a second, did he just . . . "You called me Suzy."
"Um . . . yeah. That's your name."
"But how do you know my name?"
"Because it's written on your arm?" He pointed at my left arm just as I tried to cover it up. "Besides, we do go to school together."
My mouth opened. Omo, he knew ME.
I jumped to my feet. The nausea and headache suddenly vanished. It was as if the fear and anxiety had absorbed all the alcohol. Best cure to a hangover? Imagine your reputation tarnished in an instant. Better than tomato juice, or whatever people drink to sober up.
"Sehun, listen. You have to promise me that you won't tell anyone about this. Ever." I said the last word as firmly as I could, channeling my dad in the courtroom when he intimidated a witness. "No one can ever know that I spent the night here. Especially with you."
His forehead wrinkled. "And what's so bad about me? You know, it may be believe, but girls are usually pretty happy when they wake up in my room. Perky, too."
"Uh, hello?" I grabbed the picture of Breast Girl off the floor and shoved it in his face.
Sehun stared down at the picture and scratched his head, making his hair even more messed up. My stomach flopped.
"I don't get it."
Even though it wasn't possible, I could practically feel my blood pressure rising. I ran my fingers through my own hair, tugging a bit at the tangles. "Look, I'm sure you're right. Plenty of girls would love to be here right now. Anyone but me. Seriously. I'm not that kind of girl! I'm a Law kind of girl. A future lawyer like my dad. I don't want to be lumped in with a group of babos (fools) who give pictures of themselves in tiny string bikinis to random guys."
Sehun narrows his eyes, but I could tell he was hurt by my rant. A pang of guilt hit me. "That's not -"
"I know I'm being a jerk." My hands dropped to my sides. Who was I judge them when I was in the same position? Although technically, he was the one sleeping around, not them. So if there was a finger-pointing, it should be at him. "They're not babos. I'm sure they're very nice. And pretty, from the . . . little that I can actually see. Maybe their cameras slipped and they accidentally took a picture of their boobs. How do I know? Water can be very slippery."
"No, I mean, this is a picture of her in her bra." He leaned toward me and tapped the picture still in my hand.
I dropped the picture like it burned and watched it flutter to the carpet - thankfully face down. "So, like I said, we should just forgot about last night. Not that I actually remember - I mean, it was nothing."
Sehun clenched his fist to his bare chest and bent over. "Ouch. And here I was pulling out all my best moves or you."
My cheeks burned. "Sorry, I didn't mean -"
"I was joking."
"Oh."
"You're right, though. We should just forget this," he continued, gesturing toward the bed and then at me. "Whatever this was never happened. We don't even know each other. Hey, do you need a ride home?"
I pushed him back when he took a few steps toward the door. "No, I don't need a ride! What part of this didn't happen don't you understand? There will be no rides, no talking, not even a glance between us in the future. Understand?"
"But what if I need to return your underwear or something?"
"You don't have my -" My hands lowered to my hips, and I almost checked in front of him. "Ha-ha. Very funny."
The corners of his mouth jerked up into a smile again. "I try."
"Well, from now on, there will be no more mention of my underwear or any other under garments to anyone." I held out my hand to him. "Deal?"
Was it my imagination, or did his eyes drop to check me out? His gaze was back on mine in an instant, so I couldn't be sure. Still, I tugged at the thin straps of my tank top and wrapped my arm across my small chest. I nodded toward my outstretched hand. "Deal?" I repeated, louder this time.
His hand grasped mine, practically dwarfing it. His thumb grazed my knuckles and sent shivers down my back. I forced myself to stand still and stare up at his face.
"Deal."