"It's important to drink as much liquids as possible", the young woman with a skirt barely covering her thighs said to the camera, her words making me drift my eyes from her strangely big lips to the glass I had in my hand. As she said, liquids were your friends. Mine definitely, although I was sure she meant something different than what I was currently enjoying.

"Good thing it's my third drink already," I chuckled to myself, smelling the aroma of whisky mixed with cola that emerged from the glass I was holding. I took another sip and reached for the remote control to change the fitness channel. I couldn't even remember how I ended up watching those ladies jump up and down with such fake enthusiasm it was starting to look rather inappropriate. It's not like I needed to lose weight anyway, I was slim enough to walk in a bikini without the fat on my belly hitting me in the face with every step.

I didn't need a woman with heavy make-up and barely any clothes on telling me how to eat properly and walk at least thirty minutes a day to save yourself any problems in the toilet. I would rather use an advice on how to make new friends because it was Friday evening and I was sitting at home, watching TV with Jack Daniel's as my only company. Not the greatest plan for a college student, if you asked me.

Sighing heavily and with annoyance, I stood up from the sofa and walked to my room, looking for my cell phone. Sooyoung was supposed to call me two hours ago about tomorrow's trip to Busan but it seemed that she completely forgot about me, probably shaking her body now to one of Rihanna songs blasting at some party happening today's evening. Was it at Kyungsoo's this time? I couldn't really remember and it wasn't like I would've gone if I remembered, anyway. It was hard to have a social life when you were scared of closed spaces, filled with too many people and no air to breathe. That was actually the reason why I was sitting alone now, instead of partying with my other friends from college.

I could live without the loud parties but there was one thing bothering me with no end.

No one was giving a damn about my miserable self, it seemed, and I shouldn't have been so surprised to notice there wasn't any new messages waiting for me to read when I unlocked my phone. I threw the device back on the desk, angry at my friends for basically forgetting about me, and almost simultaneously I heard a loud thud coming from my kitchen. The noise made my heart speed up with sudden hot wave of fear and panic running down my entire body.

The first thing coming to my mind wasn't making the whole situation any better, the imagination going wild and sending me the images of a thief trying to barge inside the house. I hated being home alone at night which often leaded to me begging Sooyoung to sleep over more times than appropriate for someone who just declared to try being independent. My father would definitely laugh at my pitiful self, telling me how right he'd been the day he'd said I was too much of a scary cat to live alone.

Right in your face, dad. I wasn't going to give up so easily.

For a mere second I tried to convince myself that it could be a cat or some other animal playing around on my balcony, but then the squeak of the window opening echoed through my apartment, and I reached for the bottle with perfumes I had in my room without a second of hesitation. It wasn't a pepper spray but it still could give me a minute to escape if I managed to spray it at the thief.

Clenching my fingers tight around the glass bottle, I slowly walked to the kitchen, praying to God to still see a damn cat tangled in one of the curtains. But when I pressed my back to the wall and peeked inside the kitchen after counting to ten, I didn't see any animal trying to escape. I saw a young man jumping down from my windowsill, his black hair a total mess falling on his forehead, an undone white bottom-down shirt exposing his chest and stomach everytime he made a move. He definitely didn't look like a regular thief, his clothes too fashionable for a burglar. I saw him snickering to himself the moment his feet landed steadily on my kitchen floor, as if he achieved something worth a standing ovation, and then it hit me how much he resembled someone who just had a fun time in the bedroom.

Somehow, the thought of having a regular bunglar in the house seemed more appealing than having to face a ert.

"What the hell are you doing in my apartment?!" I screamed, lifting the bottle with perfumes in protection as the guy wiped his dirty hands onto his jeans, leaving dark grey marks on his tights. He jumped slightly the moment my voice reached his ears and his head jerked up to look at me, eyes wide in shock as if it was me who ended up in a wrong house.

The moment I saw his face in the kitchen light a strange sense of familiarity crashed onto me. I'd seen the guy before but where exactly had I...

Oh... wait...

"Byun Baekhyun?" I said urgently, eyeing the guy in front of me in utter confusion as my voice raised to a squeak. "The hell?"

Instead of explaining himself, with panic written over his face Baekhyun looked over his shoulder at the balcony, just to turn back and place his finger over lips second later to shush me. I scoffed at his boldness, the fear I felt just a moment ago replaced now with pure anger and frustration. How could he dare to tell me to be quiet in my own apartment?

"You have one minute to explain what the hell you're doing in my kitchen before I start screaming." I threatened with my finger still ready to spray the perfumes at Baekhyun's face. Right now I didn't really care if he was the hottest human being studying at my University. I was ready to kick his balls and make him an impotent, even if it would harm the whole human race. Or every woman dreaming on having a thing with this playboy, at least.  

Baekhyun huffed quietly, running his both hands through hair to smooth out the mess on his head, pushing the hair back. My eyes immediately dropped to his stomach, the muscles getting more visible as he lifted his both hands. The jeans he was wearing were definitely too low, the black leather belt hanging open as if he hadn't have time to properly dress up. A warm, embarrassing blush made its way to my face, spreading on my neck, cheeks and burning my ears as I realized the man in front of me was half-. Kind of.

"Can you, um, dress up properly?" I muttered, looking away immediately, blaming the hotness spilling inside of me on the alcohol I'd drank. I could almost feel him smirking to himself at my awkward reprimand but before he could open his mouth to say something, a low voice screamed from the apartment upstairs.

"I'm going to ing kill him!" The guy practically yelled from the room above our heads and we both looked at the ceiling simultaneously. "Byun ing Baekhyun, I know it was you so better come out before I will find you myself and smash your pretty face!"

I couldn't help but look back at the main source of the guy's anger, standing right in front of me. Baekhyun, who had his eyes still fixed on the ceiling, smacked his lips in annoyance before he placed his both hands on hips, making the shirt pull back a little more and expose his chest. A sudden need to run back to my living room and find the remains of Jack Daniel's in my glass came to me when I noticed one of Baekhyun's s. No matter how inappropriate it was, I couldn't avert my eyes from it, feeling another hot wave rolling down the entire length of my body.

Was it that hot in here just a moment ago?

"Goddamn it, how hard is it to button the shirt up?" I spat at him, frustrated with my body reacting in the ways it definitely shouldn't. My mind finally joined together Baekhyun's messy look and the furious guy upstairs, the conclusion - which was definitely Baekhyun making out with this guy's girlfriend - leaving the bitter taste in my mouth. It seemed that the rumours I'd heard about Baekhyun were true and the boy didn't even have a decency to keep his hands away from girls who were already taken.

"Okay, geez, here you go." Baekhyun muttered, finally buttoning his shirt up. It was probably the first time I heard his voice so clearly, without the girls screaming at his every word and I had to admit it sounded a bit husky but still nice. "You're the first girl I know who complains, though."

"Oh sorry, should I rather fall to my knees and thank you for barging into my kitchen, being half-?" I said, pointing at his shirt, the sarcasm noticeable in my voice. Baekhyun looked up at me, one of his brows raised up in amusement before he broke into a cocky smile.

"Disappointed much? You know, I can just strip completely to make it up to you," he laughed, one of his brows making that erted wiggle I'd seen him doing while flirting with girls at our University. "If you ask nicely of course."

"That's not my point!" I yelled with frustration bubbling inside my chest. A loud, irritated growl escaped my mouth the moment he snorted in delight, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to reveal the bare skin on his forearms. "God, just get out of here before I'll call the cops."

"I can't," he stated casually, looking around the kitchen as if trying to find something. "Didn't you hear the guy? He's going to destroy my pretty face, I can't let that happen."

"Like I care," I snorted bitterly, crossing my arms across chest and giving Baekhyun the most displeased look I could come up with. "Get out or I will invite the guy here."

He stopped exploring the kitchen and his gaze finally landed on me the moment I finished talking, his eyes squinted, trying to find out if I was bluffing or saying the truth. I couldn't help but notice how he casually looked me up and down before his gaze returned to lock with mine and a small crease appeared between his furrowed brows. He mimicked me, crossing his arms across chest, a few veins popping on his forearms the moment he folded them, making me swallow hard. As strange as it could sound, a mainly, strong man's forearms were always my weak point.

"You look young," he suddenly spoke, breaking the short silence and I looked up at his face, startled. Baekhyun tilted his head to the side, his hair flipping graciously to the left. "Are you seventeen?"

"I