Joy runs her fingers through the tresses of her newly dyed hair, enjoying the way it falls down the nape of her neck to rest softly at her shoulders. She sways in place, waiting for her cab to pick her up from her apartment outside of campus. She knows that the walk to today’s modelling studio is kind of far, and it’s at least thirty degrees Celsius out, and Joy is not one to sweat buckets unnecessarily. 

Just as she wonders when exactly it would be either necessary or appropriate to sweat copiously, a car the colour of bright marmalade flowers comes to a skidding halt in front of her. Joy smirks. About time too. As she opens the back door and slides in, she spies someone from her apartment block running towards her taxi. “Oh hell no,” she mutters under her breath, and taps the driver on his shoulder, twice. “Let’s go.”

When she arrives on set, cameras and lighting equipment are already being set up. Various stylists arrange their makeup toolkits neatly on the tables in the powder rooms, and she strolls along the corridor at her own relaxed pace, greeting the others with a polite, professional smile as she searches for the room with her name stuck on its door. Peering in, she is prepared to exchange hellos with her makeup artist for today, but is met with an empty room instead.

Well, no matter. Joy busies herself with some foundation and eyeliner, two things she has perfected over time spent in university. As she finishes, she checks the digital clock on her phone, and the display informs her in its blinking way that there’s only ten minutes till the start of the photoshoot. The door bursts open then, and Joy is more than ready to give the late stylist a piece of her mind.

Until she sees a small, sweating, panting redhead, who apologises profusely for her tardiness but her senior couldn’t make it back home in time to drive her here, and the taxi that she was supposed to take instead was snatched away by another girl, and Joy’s intentionally piercing words falter in . “I’m so sorry, Joy,” Yeri gasps between deep inhalations. “I really didn’t mean to be this late.”

Yeri straightens up from where she is bent over, and smiles at Joy. “Oh, you dyed your hair,” she noted with great interest. “You look good, like a goddess found in autumn.” The unexpected compliment took Joy by surprise, and she swept her hair into her face to hide her reddening cheeks, and tried to stutter out a half-hearted response.

Just in time, the assistant director of today’s photoshoot knocked on the door and peered in. “Why are you not in your outfit yet? Your makeup isn’t even applied!” He shook a frustrated finger at Yeri, making the poor girl shrink under his accusing gaze. “You! Why are you so slow? And to think Seulgi recommended you!”

Joy slides between them, more than prepared to argue with this extremely rude boy who obviously hadn’t the slightest clue about Yeri, or the fact that she came late because, well, Joy had probably unknowingly stole her taxi. She thinks back to just an hour ago, and remembers that she had seen a student running towards her. Was the student a girl? Did they have long, flowing red hair? Yeah, she nods to herself. She almost misses the way Yeri squeaks a small “sorry”, and Joy snaps angrily at the assistant director to leave them alone and give them a bit more time.

Settling down in her chair, she watches as Yeri meekly arranges her brushes, eye products, and creams on the vanity table. “Don’t worry, I’ll be quick,” the redhead says confidently, and Joy lets her eyelids fall to rest.

When she wakes from her doze, just a few minutes later, Yeri is standing before her and holding up a plaid dress of forest green and faded white. Joy reaches for the smooth piece of cloth, and hides behind a partitioned space to change, but soon struggles with the zipper at the back. She doesn’t even notice when Yeri slips behind her to help her, but when she feels the cool touch of Yeri’s fingers running up her back, she knows that her sensitised skin have started to form small goosebumps in response to the younger girl’s light digits.

For a fleeting moment, Joy has a sudden urge to turn around and kiss the redhead, to find out whether her lips are as soft as her fingers, to hear again that teasing tone of voice that she realises only appears when Yeri is alone with her. Wait a minute. She frowned. What was she thinking about doing to Yeri again? She shouldn’t be desiring (desire seemed to be the best word to use) Yeri this much, and besides…

“Hey, don’t frown,” the girl of her thoughts tiptoed to poke a finger between Joy’s brows, grinning. “You’ve already got enough wrinkles as it is, don’t create more just before the shoot. I didn’t bring enough cream to cover it all up.” Joy opens to rebuke, maybe snark a little back at the smaller girl, but gets rather distracted by the proximity of Yeri’s lips to hers.

“Joy, you’re up!” The assistant from before calls through the door, and Yeri answers that they’re ready. Joy has never disliked the man more, but work calls. Walking to the door separating privacy and work, she takes a deep breath and pushes it open, eyes turning fierce and striking as she strides confidently towards the main photoshoot area.

The male model, a fellow Music student who is one year her senior, pulls her into a hug, and she returns it with as much enthusiasm. He leans down for a quick kiss; this time, the gesture is reciprocated with much less warmth than she usually gives, although Joy knows that Seulong is too whipped for her to notice the difference.

That’s right, she thinks. What was I thinking? 

I have a boyfriend, after all.