Chanyeol POV

Minah’s on a tall gold pedestal next to the pool, lying on her side. Cameramen and light people swarm around her, trying to get the perfect angle, while some lady reapplies blush on Minah's face with a little brush. Minah looks extremely mortified, and after entering the swimming area I realize why.

She’s wearing a skimpy white bikini, which honestly looks more like a few tiny pieces of fabric draped over her body. "Chum Churum Soju" is printed in bold black font on the bikini top. Minah’s face is smooth and powerful-looking, with heavily accented eyes and bright lips. She looks like a goddess.

An incredibly y, beautiful goddess.

But one that looks horribly mortified as well.

“Glam, just put your arm above your head!” a short lady wearing a Bluetooth audio earset- who I assume is the photoshoot director- barks. “Stop being so self-concious!”

Minah weakly follows her instructions and the director smiles smugly. “Perfect!” she trills.

My appreciation for the sight of Minah is rapidly being overpowered by my extreme distaste for this photshoot. Behind Minah I see a crowd of boys, ogling her with leery grins on their faces. My face contorts in anger and disgust. No way. The Minah I know would never willingly go through this.

Was it that manager of hers that scheduled this? 

I push the door aside and storm up to the photoshoot area. “Chanyeol!” Minah exclaims, reddening and trying to cover herself up with her arms.

“Park Chanyeol, huh?” the director says, appraising. “Did Soo Man send you here to participate in the shoot or are you just here to watch-”

“Of course not.” I reply coolly. “Even if I was offered the chance to do this I wouldn’t in a million years. You are disgusting.” I stride over to where Minah’s gold pedestal and lift her off. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m taking Min- Glam.”

And I walk out of the swimming area, Minah struggling to get out of my arms.

“You can put me down now,” Minah mutters as we step into the elevator.

I quickly let her go. Both of our faces are flushed from the prolonged skin-to-skin contact we had. A shudder runs through my body as I recall her long, soft, black hair slightly pressed up against my stomach, her long legs dangling from my arms as I-

No. Stop. Hormones. Stop. I shake my head furiously, eliciting a strange glance from Minah. 

“Crap, I left my room pass back at the swimming area,” she groans. “Great. Fantabulous-,”

I stop her mid-sentence. “I can take you to my room,” I cough, looking away. “I won’t try anything, don’t worry.”

We’re silent for a while. My room is on the 39^th floor, so it takes a while to get there. As the floor numbers flash by the silver screen above the elevator doors, I stare at me and Minah's reflection in the elevator's mirrored walls. We look... close. Like friends, or maybe even something more. 

The thought makes my stomach do a few cartwheels. 

Finally, the elevator dings. "Floor 39" the silver screen reads, and the door slides open. Quickly rushing through the posh, carpeted hallways of my floor I find my room and scan my room key, unlocking my door.

As soon as we enter my hotel room Minah shuts herself in the bathroom, which leaves me sitting on the sofa eating chips and playing on my DS. 

25 minutes and 5 levels of Cooking Mama later (hey, it’s surprisingly addicting), Minah dazedly walks out of the bathroom, her face scrubbed clean of all cosmetics and her hair wet.

And oh lord.

She’s wearing nothing but a bathrobe.

My stomach does a few more cartwheels, with a little bit of skipping and hula hooping added in as well. 

Stop it, I furiously admonish myself. You were a jerk to her. You don't deserve her anyway. 

But I know it’s going to get even harder when Minah sighs and lays down on my bed, closing her eyes and absent-mindedly playing with her hair.

I'm so dead. 

chanyeol's sure excited

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