I groaned lowly and shifted on the bed when I felt the sun’s heat escaping through the open curtains in his room. My eyes peeked open, only to land on his chiseled features and bleached blonde hair. His dark roots were already peeking through his messy head, and a few stray strands covered his closed eyes. But I began describing his little flaws as perfect, despite knowing that nothing could ever meet that unrealistic bar of standards. His sleeping face appeared to be so peaceful and innocent, a stark contrast to the whimsical and sometimes judgmental mask that he wore on a daily basis – so different from the charismatic, deviant smirk that he donned in magazine spreads and on billboards sitting at elevated heights throughout cities.

“Admiring the view?” he asked with an arrogant smirk, his eyes still shut. And there was his snarky tone returning.

“I’ve seen better,” I replied with my gaze still on his face.

“Really now?”

I hummed in response as he slithered his arms, which had been on my waist the entire night, even further around my body, pulling me closer to his warmth. “Morning,” he whispered in a husky yet content tone. I tilted my head back, mirroring the smile on his face before snuggling back into his chest.

“Good morning, Sehun.”

“It’s a good morning, alright.” Now it was his turn to pull back from the embrace and lock our gazes. When I had first met Sehun, I didn’t predict his personality to be so genuine, untainted by the prejudices of the industry. “I could get used to this,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

His skin against mine, his heat on my body, his lips flushed against mine, it seemed almost right. It was a comfortable pairing.

“Me, too.”

***

Eight days ago, I exited my apartment building to find a tall, sculpted figure resting against the railing on the steps with an expensive bouquet in his hands. He was dressed in a pure white button down, with the top two buttons undone, revealing his prominent collarbones, and sleek black dress pants. He was still wearing those same black shades that emphasized his straight nose and famed his face so mysteriously.

“So this is a date,” I teased with a small grin on my face, while shifting the purse strap on my shoulder into a comfortable position.

“No, it’s still just a casual dinner,” Sehun countered as he lifted himself off the aged metal bars and walked until he was right in my line of vision. Even with heels on, I still stood a good five inches below his height. “Just thought it’d be nice to get you flowers.”

“I hate flowers,” I said truthfully, accompanied by an amused chuckle.

Sehun’s face immediately fell; he ripped the sunglasses from their settled position on the bridge of his nose as he glowered at the lavish dozen of blood red roses in his hand. “What the hell! Clara threatened that I better get you roses!” he said incredulously. Sehun had met my college friends at my birthday gathering during our first year of working together. And since Clara had always been obsessed with the idea of getting Sehun and me together, she latched herself onto him and began with her outrageous antics. Truthfully, I saw her devious plans as an entertaining way of messing with Sehun rather than a plan to force us to date. He groaned and muttered, “I swear she said that roses are your favorite­–She lied!”

I only laughed at his naivety for falling for another one of Clara’s schemes. “When does she not?” I took the flowers from him anyway, and his annoyed attitude faded quite a bit. “When’d you start asking the girl for dating advice?”

“What? No!” he sputtered.

“Casual dinner, Sehun. Casual,” I teased as I led the way to his car. “But thank you for the effort.”

One dinner led to another, and soon I found myself sitting at the island in his kitchen as I watched him prepare pasta for our fourth “casual dinner” that week. I’d always fantasized about watching a guy cook for me; honestly, I found the sight of his back as he sincerely prepared me dinner much more romantic than a glamorous dinner at a five-star restaurant.

“So you hate flowers and you don’t get excited about fancy dinners; please don’t tell me you hate chocolate, too,” Sehun muttered as he placed two dishes of pasta on the island and settled into his seat next to me. He placed his elbow on the counter and leaned his chin on his palm to observe me dig into the simple meal that he prepared.

I smiled sheepishly and looked back at him. “I like chocolate! Well, specific brands and kinds.”

“Oh god. Are you sure you’re a girl?”

“Hey! Don’t be ist now!” I playfully punched his arm before he laughed lightly and began eating. “What, are you