Over the next week we fell into a routine of sorts. He'd leave early for his forty-eight hour shift at the firehouse, and when I dragged myself out of bed I'd fire up his laptop to search potential career options or grad schools. That would inevitably lead to me feeling depressed about my mundane future, so I'd shut it down and take a book out to the front porch instead. Sehun had an impressive library of books, mostly autobiographies of this president or that author. A cup of tea and an hour reading on the porch swing always lifted my mood. The mornings he'd come home, I'd put on a pot of coffee and make him breakfast while he entertained me with tales of the interesting characters he'd encountered on the job.

On his days off we'd just hang out. He took me to the movies, or the bookstore. We'd play board games, which I always lost. Sometimes we'd just read silently on the couch in the evening before bed. After the third night of nightmares he just moved my things into his room and we'd fall asleep together. It was comfortable. It was nice.

Which was precisely the reason I was freaking out.

Never mind that I was sleeping in the same bed with a man that I'd only known for a few days. What was weird was that it wasn't weird at all. Honestly, I slept better with him next to me than I had in years. I felt safe. And then...there was the other problem.

I was starting to really like him. A lot.

I found myself missing his company when he was gone, and I noticed he really liked making me laugh: he'd tell dumb jokes or do impressions of cartoon characters and then waggle his eyebrows at me until I dissolved into a fit of giggles. When he was relaxed, his southern accent was thicker. We'd lie in bed talking about nothing and he'd drop all his g's or say something like "y'all" or "fixin' to" and it was all I could do to stop myself from pushing him down and riding him like a mechanical bull.

The flirting was getting out of control. He was constantly tickling me, touching my hips or whispering in my ear or, his personal favorite, threatening to spank me. As God as my witness, I was this close to letting him.

But there wasn't really a point to do so. I'd already been in his home over a week, I was pretty much healed and would have to get back to the real world sometime. So maybe I was enjoying the fantasy a little too much. Because soon that would be all this is -- just a fantasy.

***

"Say somethin' else!"

I wiped my mouth with my napkin to hide my smile. "You are so weird, what is your obsession with me speaking in French? And chew your food before you talk."

Sehun sarcastically cut his eyes at me and took a drink of water to swallow the last bite of salad he had in his mouth. "Yes, Mom. And I'm obsessed because you came waltzin' in here acting like "Oh I'm Soojung, I act like my life is so boring but in reality I have eighty hidden talents and I speak five languages.''" he waved his hands around and I snickered at his exaggerated high-pitched impersonation of me. He continued in his normal voice, "You know how to ride horses, you played, what, four sports in high school? You spent a year studying in France, you've done Habitat for Humanity since you were nine, you're the in' president of everything..."

"Used to be the president of everything," I corrected him as I gathered our empty dinner plates and placed them in the large farmhouse sink. "When I finally left for college I was so relieved not to be forced by my mom to do a hundred activities...I swear, I didn't talk to anyone for the first month I was there. Anyway, stop acting like you've never heard anyone speak French before."

"No, I've never heard anyone speak French like you speak French. Your voice gets all low and you're doin' this thing with your tongue that, frankly, is drivin' me a little crazy."

"Je suis heureux que ma langue vous rend fou," I began quietly as I poured hot water into my mug from the kettle he had put on for me earlier, "parce que chaque partie de vous me rend sauvage." I watched his reaction as I dunked my chamomile tea bag into the water. "Happy, Mr. Oh?"

A sly grin slid onto his face. "Now tell me what you said."

I'm glad my tongue is driving you crazy, because every part of you is making me wild. "Nope. That wasn't part of the deal."

His smile widened as he wiggled his eyebrows at me. "It was somethin' dirty, wasn't it?" I laughed and shook my head as I brought my mug to my lips. "Soojung, do you have a boyfriend?"

I peered at him over the rim, trying not to choke on the scalding hot tea. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Do you have a boyfriend? A mate. A stud. A partner. Someone who does dirty things to your hot little body in the bedroom."

I set my cup on the counter and put my hand on my hip. "Sehun, why would you think that would be an appropriate question to ask?"

He shrugged. "I think it's an appropriate question to ask since you've been sleepin' in my bed and all. Just want to make sure I'm not gonna have someone comin' here to kick my ."

"Pfftt. As if anyone could kick your , you giant."

"Yeah yeah, answer the question, woman. Though I'm tellin' you right now, I'm gonna be mighty sad if you do." Those eyes of his stared me down. Uncomfortable with the lengthy eye contact, I went to the sink to start washing our dishes from dinner while I addressed his inquiry. "That's...not something you have to worry about, okay?"

"That's hard to believe," he got up and stood next to me with a dish towel in hand, waiting for me to hand off plates for him to dry. "You're a beautiful woman, you should have guys knockin' down your door."

I tried to focus on scrubbing and not how closely he was standing to me, or how good he smelled. "I've always been too focused on school. Besides, the only ones who would want to go out with me just want a girl who comes from a, quote unquote, "good family". It's not the turn-on you might think. I've been on a couple of dates with guys from school, but nothing serious."

He stopped drying and turned his head to look at me. "Wait, so you've never had a boyfriend? Ever?"

"Nope." I stared at the suds in the sink, silently wishing he'd change the subject.

"Soojung Jung," he put his arm around my shoulders and leaned in so close I felt the heat of his breath on my ear, "are you tellin' me you're a little bitty ol' ?"

I dropped the last plate into the soapy water and started to walk out of the kitchen. "Aww, Soojung, wait!" I heard him call out but I was halfway up the stairs. I ran into the bedroom and slammed the door. A minute later I heard a soft knock.

"Soojung. Soojung, c'mon, open the door. I was just playin' around."

I flung the door open and glared at him, tears threatening to roll down my cheeks. "You know, some people aren't obsessed with ! Some people would rather wait until they've found the right person, and they're not freaks and they're not weird! And...and you shouldn't make fun of them!" I screamed at him, and broke into a sob.