Chapter Three #2
I lift Machete fully into my arms as I stand, her legs dangling and her body squirming with residual excitement as she licks at my ear.
I curl her up to my chest like a dumbbell, then extend her out at arm’s length, her tail still wagging the entire time.
I squat and press her back up, doing actual reps with a thirty-kilo dog who seems to think this is the greatest game ever invented.
Her tongue lolls out and she pants happily, completely unbothered by being used as exercise equipment.
I get about five reps in before I set her down with a companionable pat on her flank, and she immediately goes to sit at my feet, leaning her full weight against my leg like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she doesn’t maintain physical contact.
Hyunwoo waits until the reunion has run its course and then jerks his head toward the hallway, bemused smirk still on his face. “You want to see your room now, or do you need another fifteen minutes with your girlfriends?”
I grin and make a grand sweeping gesture for him to go ahead. “Lead the way.”
I know the layout of Hyunwoo’s apartment like the back of my hand at this point.
I could navigate it blindfolded, and I have, once, after a particularly ill-advised drinking game that ended with me stumbling to the guest bathroom at three in the morning without turning on a single light.
So I follow Hyunwoo down the hallway past the living room and kitchen more out of courtesy than necessity, the dogs clicking along behind us, heading toward the guest room adjacent to Hyunwoo’s master bedroom.
It’s the room I’ve crashed in thousands of times, when we stayed up too late gaming or were too buzzed from drinking to bother calling a car. I know this room.
Or I thought I did, because when Hyunwoo pushes the door open and steps aside, it looks completely different.
I stop in the doorway. The black and gray color scheme that Hyunwoo maintained for the occasional guest—sharp lines and monochrome minimalism designed more for aesthetics than actual comfort—is gone.
In its place, the walls have been repainted in a warm beige, and the curtains are a deep forest green that I recognize immediately as my favorite color.
The rug on the floor is new too, thick and soft in a matching dark green that my socked feet sink into when I step forward.
The decorative accent chair that I always used to toss my jackets and spare clothes on because it was too oddly shaped to actually sit in comfortably has been replaced with a big, deep armchair.
It looks like you can really curl up in it, with wide arms and a cushion that looks like it would swallow you whole.
It’s positioned facing a larger flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, and beneath it sits a full gaming system already set up, controllers arranged neatly on a shelf alongside what looks like a handful of games I’ve mentioned wanting to try over the past few months.
I spot the new mech combat title I’d been eyeing last week and the remastered edition of the RPG I’d been complaining about not being able to afford.
There’s an empty bookshelf on one wall, waiting to be filled.
A new dresser with clean lines and plenty of drawer space.
In one corner, a weight set—a proper adjustable dumbbell rack with a bench, because Hyunwoo knows me well enough to understand I’d go crazy without being able to do at least some lifting at home.
And the mattress is different, thicker than the old one, one of those premium memory foam types that I can tell just by looking at it would feel like sinking into a cloud.
It’s topped with a fluffy duvet in dark green, replacing the thin, neat designer bedspread that was there before.
Hyunwoo sets my bag and suitcase down in the corner and turns back to face me, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. He’s got that look on his face, trying to seem casual but clearly waiting for approval.
“Well?” he says. “What do you think?”
I run my hand along the back of the new armchair, feeling the soft fabric under my palm, and look over at the gaming setup. He did all of this in the few days since I agreed. That’s fast, even for someone who can throw money at any problem and make it disappear overnight.
“You work fast,” I say, genuinely impressed. “All of this in, what, four days?”
Hyunwoo’s smirk widens, pleased. “Come on. There’s more.”
He takes me to the kitchen, the dogs clicking along at our heels like a furry escort, and shows me the pantry.
He opens the door with a little flourish that I’d find annoying if I weren’t immediately distracted by what’s inside.
The shelves are stocked with all of my favorite snacks—the specific brand of honey butter chips I like, not the knockoff version but the actual brand with the yellow packaging.
Instant ramyeon in the flavor I always pick.
Protein bars, dried squid, the spicy rice crackers I’ve been obsessed with since my freshman year of college when I discovered them at a convenience store near campus and ate three bags in one sitting.
Then Hyunwoo opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of my favorite iced coffee—the one with the blue label that’s weirdly hard to find in most convenience stores because they’re always sold out or just don’t carry it.
He holds it up and tilts it toward me. Behind it, I can see the shelves lined with my preferred energy drinks and protein shakes, all organized neatly by type.
I take the iced coffee from him and shake my head, turning the bottle over in my hands. Something warm and a little uncomfortable settles in my chest. I’m genuinely touched.
“Damn,” I say. “You really went all out for this.”
Hyunwoo folds his arms over his chest and leans against the kitchen counter, looking proud of himself. “I told you I’d make you comfortable, didn’t I? I keep my promises.”
I snort. “I guess you did.”
I crack open the iced coffee and take a long sip. The familiar sweet bitterness washes over my tongue and I close my eyes for a second, savoring it. When I open them, Hyunwoo is watching me with an expression that’s shifted from proud to pointed. More focused.
“So,” he says, his tone has changed. The casual warmth is still there but now it’s tinged with directness and intent. “Now it’s time for you to hold up your end of the bargain.”
I pause with the bottle at my lips. I stare at him over the rim, my lungs freezing. His eyes are steady on mine. The sharp gleam in them meaning he’s dead serious.
My stomach does a flip.
I take a large, deliberate gulp of the iced coffee, draining the rest of the bottle, and think, fuck, I better get some energy in me for this anyway.
Hyunwoo takes the empty bottle from my hand and sets it on the counter with a click. Then he turns to the two dogs sitting at our feet, their heads tilted up at us with bright, attentive eyes, and his voice drops into the firm, authoritative tone he reserves exclusively for commands.
“In je bench.”
Kal and Machete rise immediately and trot to their separate crates in the living room without a moment’s hesitation, settling inside and resting their heads on their paws.
Then Hyunwoo turns back to me, puts both hands on my shoulders, and steers me firmly toward the hallway leading to his master bedroom.
My heart rate picks up as we pass through the bedroom door.
I’ve been in Hyunwoo’s room a thousand times.
I’ve sat on his bed to play games, sprawled across it while we argued about which movie to watch, even fallen asleep in it once or twice when I was too tired to make it to the guest room.
But it feels very different right now, with the context of what’s about to happen.
The king-sized bed with its dark sheets and expensive duvet seems much larger than it ever has before, and much more significant.
Hyunwoo latches the bedroom door behind us. The click of the lock sounds absurdly loud.
Then he immediately reaches for his own pants, unbuckling his belt and pulling it free of the loops.
I watch his hands work, the gold rings on his fingers catching the light, and I realize I’ve never actually watched Hyunwoo undress with the knowledge that what comes next involves me.
It’s a jarring shift in perspective. He pops the button on his slacks and starts on the zipper.
There’s a look in his eyes that I’ve never had directed at me before—focused, purposeful, a hungry edge that’s purely alpha.
This is the look he probably gives his hookups, the one that makes women trip over themselves to get into his bed, and having it aimed at me is deeply unsettling.
He moves toward me and puts a hand flat on my chest, pushing me backward toward the bed. I stumble, my calves hitting the mattress, and I throw a hand up between us.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I plant my palm against his shoulder, stopping his forward momentum. “Slow down a bit, will you? Give a guy a second to mentally prepare.”
Hyunwoo pauses, his hand still on my chest. I can feel the warmth of his palm through my t-shirt. He pulls back half a step but the impatience is written all over his face. When he reaches for the hem of my shirt, clearly intending to start undressing me, I smack his hand away.
“I can take off my own clothes,” I snap. “I’m not a child.”
He backs off another step, but his belt is already undone and hanging open, one hand resting on his hip as he watches me with an expectant look that makes me want to throw something at him.
Like he’s waiting for me to hurry up so we can get this over with, which, fair enough, is exactly what I also want, but the pressure of his gaze isn’t helping.
I sit on the edge of the mattress. I reach for the hem of my shirt, then stop.
“Shit,” I say, looking up at him. “Do I have to get fully undressed for this?”