BONUS

Readers, I felt that you needed one more. In short, typos may apply.

“You like me don’t you?” His nose is nuzzled at my cheek.

“You wish.” I diligently avoid his leaning presence.

“Then why are you lying in bed next to me trying to ask for a sneak peek of my next mash?” He refers to his DJ Ohorat project. I breathe inwardly –losing to the fact he’s snatched the phone from my hands.

It’s been settled that we’ve been seeing each other for at least two months now. Big surprise– Or big annoyance; we haven’t actually been on a set date.

Who confessed to whom first? I think it was me, but then again –Oh Sehun is a disappointment when it comes to the typical or literal confession expectance. I mean what the hell is “Kim Rina, let’s date.”??

That would have been the last thing I expected but I of course turned him down. There was just no telling what I could be getting from Oh Sehun but when he actually moved out that final month –I felt something stir in me.

Although he had never asked me out since that day, the following week we would go through an exchange almost like there was no date needed; I mean we were living together.

Being around him got less and less harder to manage because slowly but surely –I was falling for this fellow.

I figured I was stupid for that. Of all the men, it’s got to be Oh Sehun? I don’t even think I’m that comfortable around him even now. This means I had to be sure in order to have profound feelings for a person like him; especially when his subliminal messages stopped. Those continuous post its when missing each other during the day because of work or soundless conversations that spoke through our gazes –I could tell Sehun was sure of himself even then but he suddenly stopped.

Perhaps he respected me enough to allow me to confess first or he was testing me–but he’s impatient which was why the (as in my) confession came out brutally harsh and no one washed dishes for a week. That last week of no dishes being washed followed with him moving out cordially.

I took that time to be honest with myself. I’d gotten what I wanted and although the outcome was slightly unimaginable, I was okay with it. I was endlessly comfortable talking to Sehun whenever I needed to and no matter how unwillingly he may have seemed –he listened. That charm –that uneasy feeling of not knowing if he’ll totally give up because I’m still making it hard on myself to move onto something actually made me jolt into action.

As of now, for this time only, I smile because he’s using Bluetooth to send his confidential project to me and me alone. “Share this with anybody and I’ll sue you.” Sehun goes on to entrust his track to his non-existent fan.

“Rina, admit it. You like me.” Sehun again starts this strict behavior of teasing that makes me roll my eyes. He’s not going to have me admit to him I’m a fan of his music. It’s hard enough telling him I liked him and now he wants me to say I’m his fan –he’s got a hair misplaced on his head or something.

“I think you’ve got me mistaken for a fan.” I shortly after taking my phone back sit up from the bed he used to sleep on when he lived here. This room is boring to look at because the only thing useful is the bed and there’s no way I’ll bring him in my room. I have a horrible habit of messiness and I can’t tolerate his chiding OCD rules.

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