"Are you kidding me..." Hyejeong looks at him with disdain, in utter disbelief. "We trusted you to turn in the portfolio yesterday because the deadline was yesterday, for your information, and you forgot?"

 

 

Hyejeong scoffs. Not like I've had a particularly easy time either, being a fellow intern with this jerk.

 

"Not my fault I'm an intern that gets bullied all day and has to do all the menial work," Jaebum mutters under his breath.

 

She turns around to get a closer look at him, eyes squinted. "That's not really an excuse. This was our intern project that they wanted us to do and you were in charge of turning it in, and now it's late and who knows what they're going to think of us now. We agreed to it, Jaebum." She sighs deeply, rolling her eyes. "Whatever."

 

Knowing Jaebum, he is not the type to apologize. Always the overconfident prideful one, wooing people with his greasy smile while blundering through the actual tasks at hand, leaving Hyejeong to actually do things properly. Like that one time he was in charge of a printing job but actually couldn't figure out how to work the printer correctly, so he ended up wasting tons of paper while also causing the printer to break down. Or when he thought it was a fabulous idea to use a work computer to click on some sketchy link and now it's infested with viruses. This kid doesn't know how to ask for help or confirmation when he's not sure about something because evidently he's got everything under control. And he certainly doesn’t know how to apologize.

 

"I don't get why you're so worked up over something like this," Jaebum mumbles, his voice still laced with annoyance. "Why do you try to pick fights with me all the time? Hmm?" He leans in to glare at her, close enough that she can hear his every breath. She can see every hair in his eyebrows quite clearly, and she tries to avoid his dark eyes. One can quite possibly get lost in them, she realizes.

 

"I'm not trying to pick fights with you," Hyejeong responds, shifting her gaze toward his. She swallows. "I'm just trying to do my job right, unlike someone I know."

 

She sees his Adam's apple bob up and down, right above the collar of his dress shirt, the top ed slightly. She can even see the sweat glistening on his temples, so she backs away a little, sort of surprised. 

 

Jaebum grins, a playful look in his eyes. "I know what you're thinking."

 

"What?" She furrows her eyebrows.

 

"You think I'm hot," he says matter-of-factly, to which Hyejeong shakes her head furiously.

 

"Absolutely not," she forces out through gritted teeth.

 

He smiles in victory. "Well, to be fair, I think you're quite beautiful yourself, Hyejeong." 

 

Jaebum sticks out his right hand, gesturing for a handshake. Hyejeong cautiously extends her hand out in the space between them. "What are you doing?"

 

"Hi, you must be Hyejeong. I'm Jaebum - nice to meet you," he starts, grinning even wider when confusion clouds her face. "Sorry for that mishap earlier... I promise to do my best from now on," he responds, the professional tone of his voice catching her off guard. "Forgive me?" And there's that greasy smile again; almost all the females in this company have a particular weakness to it, she has noticed. Hyejeong herself feels her knees growing wobbly, to her horror.

 

Hyejeong narrows her eyes in suspicion. "That sounds so manufactured. How do I know you're being genuine?"

 

Jaebum glances at his watch. "Hmm, how about I spend lunch time convincing you? My treat." He's dropped his professional tone and instead speaks with this particular cheery lilt. But not overly cheery. It's a good balance, she thinks. He runs his hand through his black hair, looking at her pointedly.

 

Hyejeong just stands there in thought, fingers fiddling with her ID badge.

 

"So?" he asks expectantly.

 

She exhales, giving a resigned smile. "Okay. Let's do it." 

 

Jaebum fist pumps the air in celebration, causing Hyejeong to roll her eyes at his childishness. She supposes he is kind of cute. And hey, at least he apologized, miraculously. A lunch date can't possibly hurt, right?

 

(And as she walks side by side with him down the hall, her heels clicking against the floor as she harbors embarrassing thoughts of just how small she is next to him, low-key admiring the broadness of his shoulders and the timbre of his voice as he attempts to make small-talk, she thinks to herself: Right. A lunch date can't possibly hurt. Not at all.)