Part 9

irene letting wendy warm their cold hands under her shirt

“Oof!” Wendy grunted as she lifted two bags full of grocery items on top of their kitchen island, heaving a deep sigh as her eyes took count of the four previous bags she haphazardly placed. She noted that there’re still those shopping bags Irene bought and two boxes of Chamisul soju her girlfriend got as a gift still left to get. 

Wendy lazily stretched her arms over her head, maybe they should’ve picked up Yerim on the way instead of asking her to come over for dinner. She smirke before shrugging, knowing full well Yerim would ask for payment just for lifting a couple of grocery bags.

Wendy eyed her girlfriend who’s currently stirring something in front of the stove, the latter clad in her fit black turtle neck top, sleeves rolled up around the elbows, paired with those sinfully tight denim jeans that hugged her hips snugly Irene loves to wear. She wasn’t able to admire her girlfriend’s outfit earlier with that sophisticated goshdarnit grey overcoat she wore, but now, devoid of it, Wendy nodded to herself, not bad.

Irene shuddered as she felt the hair at the back of her neck stand, shivers running down her spine, an ominous feeling that someone’s watching her. She looked behind her and noticed her girlfriend’s eyes (whilst biting her lips, mind you) raked her form, from head to toe, smirking until she met her deadpanned stare. 

With a barely concealed annoyance, she coughed to get her attention and asked, “Can I help you?”

And the idiot had the nerve to smile innocently! 

“Nope. I’m good. Carry on, babe.”

With a huff, Irene turned her back away from her girlfriend and continued stirring the pot of hot chocolate she tried making from scratch while Wendy slaved away and made use of those long hours she pulled at the gym. It was silent for a while, saved for the simmering sound of melted chocolate boiling away in the pot, it was so quiet. 

Eerily so.

Irene got so engrossed in her stirring, oddly mesmerized by the tiny bubbles of chocolates gurgling in the pot, a small smile gracing her lips. In a bit her hot chocolate will be done and her girlfriend will be blown away by how good it is. Irene took a spoon and dipped it into the pot for a small taste of the chocolaty goodness she made for her most probably cold and already shivering girlfriend.

“Mmmmm,” she can’t help but moan because of the texture. Definitely way better than what Wendy makes, but – she picked up the jar of sugar and shook it, Oh, she forgot she downed all of it in her concoction earlier – it needs more sweetness.

‘Hot chocolate needs to be sweeter than sweet’ her girlfriend would declare smugly. Every. Single. Time. 

With a smirk.

And a greasy w