--

Lee Sunkyu woke up with a start.

Molesting her alarm clock with an impatient pair of fingers, she dug the fingernails of her other hand into her temple.

“, what a nightmare.”

She’d dreamt that every dead relative in her family doused her in gasoline and dragged her kicking and screaming into the fiery pits of Clown Hell. Their gruesomely painted faces morphed into goo as they wailed with melting red lips. Her last words before her clothes charred into colorless ashes were, “But I left the oven on!”

Regarding the mess at the foot of her bed, she sighed. The paused DVD of Stephen King's It had been frozen to a particularly chilling moment. Next to the whirring laptop sat three balled-up Papico wrappers and the dejected, half-burnt shell of an asiago bagel.

Well, that explained her ed up subconscious state.

There was no good explanation for why she sensed the equivalent of a hangover brewing. Too much time in bed, perhaps? Her weekend merely involved sleeping, food, more sleeping, and Solitary Horror Movie Night, topped off with an unconfirmed nighttime nap. The brunette felt like utter crap.

And as icing on top, the neighbors from the apartment across their building’s courtyard were having freakum sqeakum . She mentally concocted a law against old people ing.

She groaned as she slugged out her bedroom. Some time that morning, the kitchen sprung a leak, allowing dozens of unwelcome sunbeams to shimmer mockingly along the shiniest appliances. A big “Eff you” from the universe, for Lee Sunkyu couldn’t turn the sunoff, of all things.

Brushing aside unwashed juicer containers, she pulled the K-cup machine from its waiting position along a counter. Sunkyu pinned her dusty bangs in a pouf as the noisy device shot Donut Shop Coconut Mocha into her mug. The sound always reminded her of piss.

Speaking of sounds..

That freakum squeakum’s volume intensified now that she stood near the open window. She hissed at the golden rays pouring from the rectangle, betraying her nickname: Sunny.

Lee Sunny abhorred the sun. In the morning, at least.

A mug and a half later, Sunny’s brain caught up with her curiosity. The squeak, after her coffee, seemed more like a punchy bounce. Horrified and intrigued at the thought of watching -crazy octogenarians making killer air atop their bed, she peered out the window.

Nope. Worse than Googling lemon party.

Her heightened aural sense was right. Bouncing.

By her achingly y roommate.

y roommate. Bouncing on a trampoline. In an outfit that’d be banned in countries she read about in the news.

Before Sunny could duck out of view, her roommate’s hitch in air time let her know that she’d been spotted. Daylight created a dappled halo around her dark raven hair, only matched by the brightness of the woman waving briskly into Sunny’s direction.

Hell was real.

It was called ual frustration.

Craigslist, in its sketchy splendor, previously supplied Sunny with a circus of latently loony floormates. Folks who cleaned up nicely in an interview, only to expose their ishness after moving in. Like the guy her age complaining about the Wi-Fi downloading his kiddie at an unacceptable speed. Or the bookish chick with a penchant for tarantulas and fire eating. And never forget “Onew: The Man Determined to Fly.” Sunny kicked his broken out, shattered knee and all.

So, when Kwon Yuri, feast for the eyes as well as other forgettable senses, took a seat on her couch, boasting the perfect schedule, an interesting--and sane--background story, and the first three months rent up front, Sunny was too relieved to refuse. In any other circumstance, she’d avoid eye contact and give a generic “I’ll call you” line. Desperation to retain her quality of life could only accomplish this.

Yuri’s black sports bra left little to the casual ’s b imagination. Her firm, sunkissed abs deserved their own theme song. Toned, yet softly feminine arms. Graceful hips. But those shorts--Sunny praised the brand--those shorts were created for only Kwon Yuri.

“Good morning, Sunny,” Aforementioned Goddess greeted as she entered the room, friendly smile in tow. “Sorry about the mess. I’ll take care of it.”

Sunny leaned into the counter, shrugged, and gulped a tepid mouthful of coffee. “No problem.”

“You’re so laid-back,” Yuri mused while she rinsed the green from a mason jar. “My last roommate needed dishes cleaned right after usage. Then, he’d complain about my kale taking too much space in the refrigerator. Can you believe that?”

“He sounds .”

“Textbook retentive. You’re much better company. By far.”

Sunny smirked, finishing her second cup. Wary to take a step closer to the woman occupying the double sinks, she set her mug on the counter. “Got a new toy?”

“I’ve been jumping on it all day! I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Yuri had awoken something in Sunny, but that wasn’t an appropriate topic shift. “Nah. Had a bad dream.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Sunny melted at Yuri’s genuine concern. “Only the product of late night horror films and junk food. Thanks, though.”

“I could never do scary movies. I’m too big of a .”

Sunny snorted at the word, eyeing her own painted toenails. “You haven’t watched them with the right people.”

Yuri paused, possibly deep in thought, then resumed her dishwashing duties. “There’s an interesting hunch. If you want company next time, I’m up for it.”

Sitting in the dark, squirming in lust for two hours? She’ll pass. “Warning: I talk through movies.”

“Doesn’t bother me.”

“Oh.”

“Did you want some?”

Sunny glanced up to Yuri dipping a straw into another mason jar filled with a thickly orange substance. “Carrot, orange, and ginger.”

“Does it taste good?”

Yuri pursed her lips around the straw, a long drag, and handed it over. “You tell me.”

Sunny quickly clasped onto the glass jar. Her pale, temporarily uncoordinated fingers landed over Yuri’s in her haste to grab the drink and get the hell out the kitchen. Yuri pulled back, exhaling a breath of amusement.

“Mmmm. Not as gag-worthy as I anticipated,” Sunny laughed, attempting to diffuse the tension. She couldn’t explain why there was tension; she just knew. “Chalk one up to the healthy types.”

Yuri dried her hands into a dish towel, beaming. “Lucky you. You live off corner store ice cream and your body’s a ten. I have to hit the gym twice a week or else I’ll turn into my mother.”

“Nothing about you is motherly.”

“Give me a month without leg drops and you’ll be hounding me for baked goods in no time.”

Sunny burst out laughing, placing the juice on the kitchen table to avoid an accident. Not only was Yuri attractive, she was damn funny. “Now I’m curious about this transformation...and for the record, I’m no ten. A six at best, after a stomach virus.”

Yuri openly eyed Sunny head to toe, sending shivers down the latter’s spine. “I have eyes and they read ‘ten’ all over you. An eleven, maybe.”

“Are you crazy? I can’t break the hotness scale.”

“You have the ideal shape. Short, slender, and curvy. If I hadn’t hit that growth spurt in grade eight, I’d be booking for your body type.”

“Whatever. I like taller women.” Sunny retracted her statement with a chuckle. “I mean--I’m envious. Honestly, I believe I’m a seven-foot glamazon at heart.”

Yuri smiled, sliding into the seat across from Sunny. “If you want a workout buddy, I’m here.”

Sunny picked at a chipping edge of the faux-wood table. “I don’t have the drive.”

“That’s where I come in.”

Ignoring Yuri-shaped curves while sweating her off. Fun. “Yeah right.”

“We can start today.” Yuri’s smile spread across her face in realization. “On the trampoline!”

“I’m not willing to make a fool of myself on that thing.”

Yuri hopped to her feet, appraising the girl below. “So, don’t make a fool of yourself. It’s a gorgeous Sunday. We’re both not busy…”

“Sundays should be spent in bed.”

“You’ve spent enough time in bed for the next decades’ Sundays. Now, get dressed and I’ll meet you outside in fifteen.”

Begrudgingly, Sunny took Yuri’s outstretched hand, enjoying its softness until she’d been pushed to the doorway. A thrill of confidence coursed through her veins as she felt Yuri’s gaze lower to the back of her sweatpants. Maybe she should take advantage of a lazy Sunday.

…

Due to Sunny’s constant reneging on gym time, she had more than enough unworn workout clothes to choose. She stood before Yuri, discretely snatching a price sticker from the strap of her tight-fit tank.

“Climb on up,” Yuri directed, pointing a finger to the equipment.

Sunny’s saucy mind ran circles with that comment. Hence her grin when she boarded the medium-sized circle of black. “Aren’t you coming up?”

“It’s safer for only one person. Now, jump for me, monkey.”

Sunny stuck out her tongue and made a few tentative bounces.

“Good, good. Just build up from there.”

Yuri’s form grew and shrunk as Sunny jumped with more strength. “Are you gonna stand there and watch?” she asked between breaths.

Please Subscribe to read the full chapter