Mikayla

Megan returns from her meeting running and punching the air with her fists. Josh and I watch her do a happy dance, laughing. She doesn't usually show much emotion, but when she's really happy, I love how she carelessly displays all her feelings. It's refreshing to see.

"Did you get a Nobel Peace Prize or why all the joy, bestie?" Josh asks.

Megan turns to us after setting the papers in her hand down on her desk. "See this ass?" she asks, turning to the side and sticking her butt out a bit. "You better put on lipstick before you kiss it."

"I'm gay, but I'll do it anyway." Josh nods, making me snort. "Why though?"

Megan clears her throat. "You know how hard I've been trying to be the head writer on some project for the past few months, right? Well now, in the meeting I was in earlier, I pitched my idea and Mr. Park approved it. I got it!"

"That's great!" I cheer, getting up from my chair and hugging her.

Normally, it's not a big deal because, at some point, everyone gets the task of leading a project. For Megan, however, it hasn't been that easy over the past few months and I could see how much her motivation has been dropping little by little. So I'm extra happy for her.

"I told you, you have great ideas. I'm happy for you." Josh says and joins us so we end up in a group hug.

"I know. But a lot of things have been going on in my life lately and I thought this was a continuous loop of bad luck." Megan smiles. "I broke the devil's leg today."

We agree and then return to our work. I am thankful to have such supportive and motivating friends. No matter what, we are there for each other and help each other on good days as well as bad.

I don't see Josh after lunch, but I think back to the rice bowls I had with Mr. Jeon the other day. I subconsciously smile at all the interactions we had even though it's been two weeks.

Knowing that we can talk to each other without making it weird reassures me. I was afraid that I would never be able to talk to him normally again after the incident in the bathroom.

That doesn't mean I don't get shy when he's around me. Just the opposite in fact. I can ignore it and I kind of like it when I talk to him, but still, my heart beats faster when I feel his warmth.

I don't know what it means, or if everything that happened still has an unknowable effect on me. Sometimes I find myself thinking back to how close his face was to mine and my cheeks burn.

And I still can't forget how caring and considerate he was when he gave me a ride to the hospital. He kept saying it was no big deal, but it is to me. When a person cares about the people I care about and love, it always leaves a lasting imprint on me.

It's something that not even my past boyfriends have done for me and seeing Mr. Jeon as my boss drop everything to help me is something I will never forget.

I tried to thank him with lunch because it was the only thing I could think of. He seemed to like rice bowls as much as I did and the conversations we had afterward helped me get to know him better.

He didn't talk much, but he made me feel comfortable so I ended up talking a lot again. It would never have occurred to me that I would be discussing deep topics with Mr. Jeon, but hearing his opinion on some things gave me more insight into the person he is.

I find myself smiling again without having control over it, but I wipe that expression off my face as soon as I see Mr. Park approaching. He's smiling and I think he's about to leave because he's carrying his briefcase.

"Hi, Mikayla." he greets, stopping at my desk, and I smile back. "Remember that Golden Closet job?"

I nod. "Yes, I do. Is there a problem with it?"

I remember working on it. And also that I was showing the script to Mr. Jeon before I got the call from my father.

"No, don't worry," he reassures me. "But I have to ask you to revise some more details and finish the script by tomorrow."

"I can do that." I nod.

"I'm going to leave now and won't have time to read the finished script today. I have a meeting with Golden Closet tomorrow and it needs to be error-free. Can you have Jungkook check it? He knows a bit about it, but I think he's already left." he looks in the direction of Mr. Jeon's office. "Just email it to him, will you?"

I nod again. "Yes, of course." Why does this make me nervous all of a sudden? "Have a nice day." I mumble as he is already walking away. He waves at me and wishes me a nice day as well before disappearing into the elevator.

I let out a sigh and go straight to the script for Golden Closet. There's not much to do, since Mr. Jeon had already commented that only a few small details were missing. I still have enough time to work on it before I leave.

I go get a coffee and it doesn't take me longer than three hours to be satisfied with what I've done. I think it's good enough to send to Mr. Jeon, so I type an email first so he knows what it's about and doesn't get sent the file alone.

But when I press the send button nothing happens. I press it again and it kicks me out of the system. Drawing my eyebrows together, I try a few more times, but it still doesn't work.

"Weird." I spin around. "Megan, are you having trouble with the system right now too?"

She turns as well and nods. "Yeah, I just noticed."

And then the others sitting near us start murmuring as well. Confused faces look back and forth and some punch the computer as if that will solve it.

If there is a system error or a problem with the network connection, it can't be good. Many have a packed schedule and deadlines.

"Should I call Ed on the tech team?" I ask Megan when I can't think of anything else to say.

She shrugs. "I don't know if the phone line works. Try it."

I pick up the phone and a long beeping fills my ears, showing that at least the phone calls are going through. "It's working," I report and type in the number for the tech team.

"Hello?" a voice I recognize as Ed rings out.

"Hi, Ed, this is Mikayla. We're having a problem with the system because it keeps kicking us out. Are we the only ones having this problem or?"

I hear another phone ring near him. "I know. We're working on it." his voice sounds stressed and annoyed. I'm probably not the first person to call him. "Please be patient."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I say sympathetically. It must be hard having the entire building on his collar. "But can you give an approximate time when everything will be working again?"

"Sorry, but no. It'll probably take a few hours," he says and I gasp.

I thank him and hang up before turning back to Megan. "I'm officially dead, Megan." I panic. "I need to have Mr. Jeon check out the project by tomorrow. What am I supposed to tell Mr. Park?"

"Okay, you're not dead. Just send it to him via fax or something," she suggests and I kiss her forehead and dash off.

Reaching the printers, I set the setting exactly as Mr. Jeon showed me the other day and I'm ready to send the document until I realize I don't know any transmission details.

I run back and look for Kiyara. "Hey, I need Mr. Jeon's fax details. Can you tell me them?"

She seems startled by my sudden appearance. "Um. As far as I know, Mr. Jeon doesn't have a fax machine at home. He handles everything by email usually."

"What do you mean he doesn't have a fax at home?" I screech, and Kiyara shrugs. "He's a CEO! Ugh, what am I supposed to do now."

I am talking to myself rather than Kiyara when I then figure out a solution. I walk back to my desk without saying anything else to Kiyara and transfer the document to a thumb drive. There are still complaints and it seems the system won't be fixed until everyone has gone home.

"Where are you going so suddenly?" Megan questions when she sees me packing my purse.

"Bring the script over to Mr. Jeon. See you later." I rush to the elevators without waiting for a response. It's already five o'clock and I don't want to bother Mr. Jeon too late. I just want him to give me his okay so I can sleep in peace tonight.

I still know his address from last time and call a cab to take me to his house. And now that I think of the last time I was there, a strange feeling comes over me.

Images of Ms. Moulin fill my head and I start to worry uncontrollably, thinking that she might be there today too. I don't know why, but just the thought is enough to make me shudder.

It was weird and uncomfortable. But beyond that, anger and disappointment filled me. To this day I can't put meaning to those feelings, but I've stopped trying because it makes me frustrated the more I think about it.

The drive doesn't take too long and I find myself getting out of the vehicle after paying. The house still looks gigantic as it did on my first visit, but compared to the other fancy and show-offy houses, Mr. Jeon's property is more down-to-earth.

My heart pounds the closer I get to the entrance and I question if this was a good idea. Sure, I didn't really have a choice and now I don't have a choice either because I'm already here so there's no turning back.

Maybe I should hand over the USB to him and just leave? No, I can't because last time he scolded me for leaving without going over the document with him.

Why am I so nervous?

Stepping onto the porch, I push all these thoughts away and ring the bell. My foot taps against the ground as I wait for someone to answer the door - preferably not a blonde woman who doesn't even know my name. I don't think I could handle that a second time.

But my worries seem to have been unnecessary because when the door opens, Mr. Jeon is standing on the other side. His expression changes to one of surprise as our eyes meet.

"Ms. Carlson?" he says, looking me up and down. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, I'm sorry to bother you so late. Mr. Park wanted me to have you check the finished script for Golden Closet, but the company had technical problems and I couldn't send you an email. And you don't have a fax, so I'm here with a thumb drive," I explain in one breath.

With each word that leaves my mouth his drawn together eyebrows calm and he looks at me with a neutral expression. Only when I shut up do I notice his appearance.

He is wearing a simple gray t-shirt with matching shorts. His tattoos are showing and overall he makes a comfortable impression. He looks so... normal.

I mean, not that I thought he goes to bed in a suit and tie or that he's an alien, but I certainly didn't expect to find him like this. I don't know why it surprises me so much though, and yet I have to admit that I like it.

"I do have a multifunction printer with a fax, though," he remarks, his eyebrow jumping up. I snap out of my drooling state.

"Oh, really? Kiyara said otherwise." I draw my eyebrows together.

"I probably forgot to give her my fax number," he explains and I nod, understanding. Silence falls on us and we linger at his door. Finally, he snaps out of it. "Please, come in."

The way he holds the door open for me and the welcoming expression on his face tells me that he has no problem with me showing up so suddenly in front of his house. Still, I can't help but feel like I'm invading his privacy.

However, as Mr. Park wanted me to do, we have to go over the script and we cannot do that unless I enter. I smile shyly and then step closer. The first glimpse I have of his house is that the interior is as modern and minimalistic as the exterior.

The dark tile flooring extends through the entire level and not too many pieces of furniture take up unnecessary space. Everything looks incredibly clean and neat, just as I would expect from him. Not that I imagined his house from the inside.

He closes the door after I fully enter and takes my coat, which he then hangs up. Our eyes meet, but he looks away and I wonder if he feels weird having an employee in his house.

Before either of us can say anything, something brushes up against me and I jump a little because of the unexpectedness. But then I realize what it is and I gasp.

"Oh, it's a doggo!" I exclaim as I'm already being attacked. The dog wags its tail excitedly and its tongue hangs loosely from its mouth as it smells me from all sides and tries to hold onto me as it climbs onto its hind paws.

I giggle and shriek as he or she tries to lick my face after I bend down. I haven't petted a dog in so long and because I love dogs and their playful nature, I pay special attention to it.

I look up at Mr. Jeon who is already watching our interaction. "Is your dog a girl or a boy?" I ask.

"A boy. His name is Bam," he replies.

I turn back to Bam. "You're so cute!" I snuggle him and he seems to like it immensely because he barks in contentment. He gives me kisses and I laugh even harder. "I love you already. You are such a handsome boy! Yes, that's right."

I notice that Bam likes to be petted and that's just what I give him. When I was little, we had a dog too, but unfortunately, we had to put him down, so I know a lot about dogs.

"He's a Doberman, right?" I ask, seeing Mr. Jeon nod. "I like that you didn't have his tail docked or his ears cropped."

I smile up at him as I get back to my feet. Bam is still walking around my feet and Mr. Jeon is staring at me. It's not that expressionless stare. His eyes radiate something appreciative and fond.

"Sorry, I didn't ask if it was okay for me to pet him," I say shyly as his eyes don't waver away even for a second.

He presses his lips together. "No, it's okay." he finally says. He looks down at Bam and I look down too, only to see him sitting right at my feet. "He likes you."

I pat Bam's head. "And I like him." I smile. Then I remember what I actually came for. "Should we look at the script?"

"Yeah, sure." he nods and leads the way further into his home.

I hate to be nosy, but I can't help it and let my eyes roam with interest over everything I see. The hall leads directly into an open living room lit by floor-to-ceiling windows. The sun is already setting, so his furniture is painted over with a golden hue.

To the left is a large kitchen, unsurprisingly decorated in the same dark shades. I bet it would be incredibly fun to cook there. I wonder if Mr. Jeon cooks or if he has his own chef.

There is a canvas hanging opposite the big sofa and it is the only thing decorating the big walls. I unconsciously walk toward it to observe it more closely. It's something abstract, the colors and patterns not really creating a picture and yet they are telling a lot.

"Decalcomania." I hear Mr. Jeon say, and when I turn my head to the right, I notice that he has also stepped closer.

I look back at the painting. If you didn't know better, you might think it's a butterfly painting, but it's much more than that. The left side is dark and drab with those colors blending into the colorful ones on the right.

"It looks like those pictures I used to make with string when I was a kid," I note. "But now it feels like it has a deeper meaning."

"It does," he confirms my assumption. "Come."

He leads me back into the living room and I sit down on the soft sofa there. I feel like a kid at the amusement park for the first time. He has a big TV, but somehow I can't imagine him ever watching anything on it.

"You want something to drink?" he asks, still standing. I don't know if I can talk about work when he is looking like he's on his way to the gym. What a view that would be.

"Just water, please," I say.

He nods and turns around, but then stops and turns back. "I, um, I made dinner before you got here. Are you hungry?"

"Oh, um." I don't know how to answer. Is this a trick question? "I could eat, I guess."

Can you blame me? Food is life and I am in no way controlled to refuse it. But I'm not going to lie and say that's not awkward.

I follow him into the kitchen and sure enough, there's already a pan on the stove that I didn't see before. The rest of the kitchen is clean, so no one would get the idea that someone had cooked here recently. And this answers my thoughts about whether Mr. Jeon cooks himself.

I watch his broad shoulders from behind and how the muscles underneath flex every time he moves. I sit down on one of the bar stools at the counter and Mr. Jeon pours me a glass of cold water, which I take a sip of to lower my rising body temperature.

Neither of us seems to remember the USB in my purse, and instead, I quietly watch him take two plates out of the cupboard. It's kind of comforting to watch him do the simplest things and I find myself staring.

He doesn't say anything, but I know he can feel my eyes on him. When he lifts the lid of the pan, the creamy smell of pasta fills my nose and my eyes widen with anticipation. Serving a good amount on a plate, I see his veins bulging under his skin. Dear God.

He pushes the plate in my direction. "Thank you." I smile.

"Parmesan?" he asks as he puts a serving of pasta on the other plate.

"That would be bomb!" I exclaim, already hearing my stomach growl.

I see the corner of his mouth curve up, but can't stare any longer because he turns to the fridge. He hands me grated parmesan and I sprinkle it over my pasta until there is a mountain on top. There is no such thing as too much cheese.

My cheeks redden, however, when I find Mr. Jeon watching me do it, but he doesn't say anything, so I don't question it. He tells me to dig in and when I take a forkful, the flavors melt on my tongue.

"Wow," I comment, impressed. "This tastes better than the Italian restaurant near where I live."

He looks away. "I can't cook many dishes, but I guess my pasta is decent."

"It's more than decent." I insist with a smile and turn back to my pasta. "Back to the script for Golden Closet. I changed what was missing or unnecessary, so I hope it's good now. Mr. Park just wanted you to look over it. He has a meeting—"

I stop talking when I realize he's staring. Not into my eyes.

Then, without saying anything he walks away and comes back after a minute with a box of tissues. He hands me one and I almost faint from the embarrassment as I understand what he is trying to tell me.

I quickly wipe my mouth and my cheeks must have turned a thousand shades of red. I look back at him and he is still staring at my lips. He points to the corner of his lips to show me exactly where the sauce is.

He licks his lips. And I stare.

My cheeks flush.

What is happening to me?

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A/N: there is too much staring in this story, I would like to talk to the manager 🤨