She fumbled for her phone; almost dropping her purse and keys and what nots.

“Hi, yeoboseo!”

“Why aren’t you answering my texts? I’ve been trying to reach you.” His voice sounded far away in her ears. Reception in the elevator is always so unpredictable.

“I was getting ready and didn't see them, that’s why. Why, what’s going on?”

They’ve known each other for months now and she could tell from his voice he wasn’t in any dire emergencies.

“Let’s meet in the park instead. The set is closed.”

“Why, what happened?” She got off the elevator and was briskly walking down the hallway.

“Oh, I forgot to check with Pd-nim,” he said, “But I’ll make it up to you, swear. Shall I pick you up?”

“No, I’m leaving now. I’ll meet you there then. Text me the address please."

.

.

Damn it! She almost dropped the phone again. She had just hung up and was rushing to her car. Rushing always made her clumsy and she was rushing a bit more today.

That’s because she was late and she hated being late. It took forever to get ready.

And why is that? She mused to herself, pursing her lips in exasperation.

Did she really need to change several outfits? Her usual jeans and loose shirts would have been fine. Instead she stood irresolute in front of her mirror worrying about what to wear.

She was annoyed at her figure, the way her clothes fit, her curves.

Or lack thereof. She sighed.

And the hair. Always the hair.

I wish I didn’t have to cut it; this makes my face looks so round, she groused, missing the long silky reddish brown locks she had just months ago…

Admit it, it wouldn’t have mattered if it wasn’t him.

He's been pursuing her relentlessly. And not once did he show a change of heart, despite her resistance and refusal to return his affections. He wanted her, he said, and he wasn't giving up. She shivered anew.

She  recalled the way he confessed several weeks ago. She wasn't swayed, insisting on keeping him at arms length. Instead of stopping him short, dampening his ardor, he seemed to double up his efforts in his attempt to win her over. 

He's just so...

Ugh!

.

.

“Hey, you.”

He whispered in her ears. He snuck close next to her, startling her from reading her script and she ended up dropping it in the process.

“Oh sorry, here.” He picked up the script from the ground and sat next to her on the bench. He sat close enough that she could feel the press of his shoulder, the warmth of his skin through their shirts.

She arrived at the Secret Garden Conservatory; the idea being to go over the scripts again, before next week’s scenes.

She is nervous though she tries hard to hide it. They are to have their very first kiss.

Just the thought gives her the butterflies.

And why is it he seems to delight in the very fact that she is all flustered? Because why else would he hover so closely each time? Why else would he flirt shamelessly even on standbys? And he does so. Persistently.

He makes her feel like a nervous teenager, all out of sorts and restless. Never had she been so out of character ever since he came around, always hovering, whispering, finding reasons to touch her.

Even now he is touching her, as she glanced at his hand holding onto her arm lightly.

She bit her lips as he leaned closer, to peer at the script book she’s holding with her hands. She caught a whiff of his perfume, something manly with musk and verbena and some other low notes that mixed with his body chemistry, creating a unique scent all of his own. She breathes him in, his scent so familiar to her now.

She wants to think the perfume made her somewhat heady and not because of the nearness of him. So near that if she turns her head slightly to the right, her lips would brush his cheek. Easily. Effortlessly.

As it is, he’s been turning towards her, whispering his questions, his comments, and God only knows what in her ear; his slight movement brings with it the warm tickle of his breath she feels all the way to her toes.

Damn it!

“What do you think?” he whispered. His voice a low rumble. She felt the sound fluttering in her stomach.

“W-what?” Crap. She closes her eyes in consternation. He’s too distracting.

“I said it will be just a light kiss, but meaningful. It will be their first kiss after all.”

“Yes, yes. Of course. A sweet kiss.” She rambles, ignoring the way he is looking at her so closely, so intently.

“Stop staring, will you?”

“Why are you blushing? Did I ever tell you how lovely you look when you blush? I mean lovelier.”

“No. Stop it, you’re making me self-conscious.” She keeps her eyes averted, trained on the script, purposely ignoring how near he is. “We’re supposed to be rehearsing.”

“Can we? Start rehearsing? Shall I move your head like this?” His hand moves turning her to face him. His thumb tilts her chin gently.

He looks deeply into her eyes until she had to break away from his gaze. His eyes feel like a caress, the way they glanced at her warm cheeks to rest on her parted lips, staring his fill of her.

She already felt short of breath even before he kissed her. And when he shifted, fitting his lips over hers ever so seamlessly, she finally knew how it feels to be lost though she’s frozen in place; to be breathless without running in circles, to have her heart hammering a beat in time with his.

It was merely seconds but felt like a lifetime of a kiss.

He rests his forehead on hers, for once his ready quips have escaped him. He is just as affected. And she feels a thrill she couldn’t begin to describe knowing her kiss could strike him senseless too.

“You cheated.” She said, her voice breathy, a little bit tremulous even to her ears.

“What do you mean?” It came out husky, rough, the way a voice lost for a while would sound before it was found.

“This kiss. We’ll be at the beach, not sitting down.”

He smiles at her, his lips curving, lighting up his whole face. "We'll need to practice some more then."

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..

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A/N:

A little unpolished. I couldn't stop thinking of them and just had to write.

I miss them. I miss them. I miss them!