she would love, in all her honesty, to not get annoyed at kim jiho, but sometimes he makes such a thing absolutely impossible to doâ what with his sharp words ( how insolent! ) and terribly sarcastic manner. it was only because of her immense willpower to stay calm in all situations did she manage to keep a smooth mask of calm. or else she mightâve just snap him in half ( or at least, she could try ).Â
with a roll of her eyes, she plugged her phone in â and out wafted some new-age jazz that she was listening to on her way to the party. âi hope this is sufficient for you.â she said simply, almost coldly to him. of course, it was hard to stay angry at him in a private, enclosed space; not with copious amount of alcohol in her system, and not while heâs looking like that, suit and all. so with all grace and smoothness, she placed a palm on his knee, trailing upwards just slightly for him to feel the pressure.Â
âit hasnât been a week and yet you need to blow off some steam, hm?â her voice barely a decibel louder than the soft waft of the music. she let her eyes wander to his profile, the sharp chisel of his jaw â the beautiful slope of his eyes.Â
âgood enough,â he replied dismissively, though wasnât quite as dissatisfied by everything as he seemed. previous irritation made way for an even more disagreeable mood, and he doubted that heeyeon would put up with it had they been in a more open space. even in a locked room he didnât doubt that she would find some way or another to avoid him.Â
yet there was no reason to expect a preamble to her actions, but jiho found himself almost offended that there was none anyway; the palm on his knee hadnât stayed there for a second to clue him in on her intentions until it travelled upwards. he didnât expect intimacy until they were safely behind the closed door and drawn blinds of his apartment. both hands remained on the wheel, frown tightly drawn at his brow.Â
âthatâs because you stress me out,â this, of course, included what she was doing with her hand at the moment, and he shifted not-uncomfortably at the response his body gave, albeit gradually. if he felt any more patient, he wouldâve grabbed her wrist and tugged it away; instead, he allowed her to continue.
âdonât pretend i donât make you angry, either.â thatâs is why this works -- all that aggression, all that anger, hidden behind fitting suits and pretty little dresses, choked and suffocated, and not in the best way it could be. his hand reached out to curl around the back of her neck; fingers traced her pulse, and pressed lightly; he drove a bit faster, stepped on the brakes a little too harshly. âunless i donât annoy you enough -- then iâd have to work a little harder at that.âÂ