Intimate Beauty

Hannah's POV

I didn't want to wake up as I heard my alarm clock buzz in the background.

My body just felt too weak to get up, so I lazily reached out to shut the damn clock off. As I felt around for the off button, a hand suddenly brushed against my own. Confused, I pulled my hand away.

What the fuck?

Dismissing it as a stupid hallucination, I reached back out to hit the off button but instead came in contact with the soft hand yet again. Alarmed, I smacked the hand away causing a low moan to sound from beneath me.

Since when did my bed make noises?

Forcing my eyes open, I gasped in shock as I found Hwan under me in my bed, one arm draped around my waist and the other on my thigh, dangerously close to my ass. I was lying on top of him in a straddling position, my bust squished against his broader chest.

His face was barely a few inches away from mine, and as I stared in confusion at his peaceful expression, his eyes gently fluttered open.

How the hell did he end up in my bed again?

Peeping at me through his thick lashes, he gingerly brushed aside a stray braid from my face, tucking it behind my ear. Gaping in bewilderment, I struggled to comprehend what was going on.

What kind of dream was this?

I opened my mouth to say something but he shushed me, instead gently pulling my head back onto his chest.

"Go back to sleep, Hannah," he muttered sleepily.

"But don't we have to go to work?"

Letting out a disapproving grunt, he began to trace small circles on my hand. "Go to sleep."

I could hear his heart beating steadily in his chest, his torso rising and falling with each shallow breath. Feeling too tired and disoriented to make sense of the situation, I let my eyes flutter closed.

I would figure this out when I woke up. For now, I would just let myself rest in the arms of this strange, raven-haired boy.

-

When I woke up a few hours later, I was still in Hwan's arms.

Sitting up, I looked down at the sleeping boy underneath me who my legs were currently straddling. Upon closer inspection, it was apparent that he was actually quite handsome with high cheekbones and a narrow nose. His thin, pink lips were slightly parted, holding a subtle but sensual appeal.

Unable to resist, I ran my fingers through his soft, raven hair and he moaned in approval, his brows furrowing. I found myself smiling at the sight.

How cute.

As if sensing my gaze, his dark eyes blinked open. Finding me in such a compromising position, I expected him to freak out or get flustered, but to my complete surprise, he smiled.

"Good morning, Hannah."

"Good morning, Hwan," I casually replied, my fingers still in his hair. "You've got quite the explaining to do, you know."

"I could say the same for you," he placed his hands behind his head, stretching his body with a suppressed yawn. "Can we talk over breakfast?"

"What else would we talk over?"

-

Hwan's POV

With the expertise of a gourmet chef, I cracked six eggs into the frying pan.

I decided to get a head start on breakfast since Hannah wasn't finished freshening up yet. I was making my special omelette and French toast, along with a side of orange juice for breakfast.

Breakfast was the most important meal of the day, right?

I was almost done garnishing the plates with orange slices when Hannah walked into the kitchen, her presence causing me to nearly dropped the oranges.

She looked completely different.

Her face was bare of any makeup, her flawless, dark brown skin seeming to glow under the kitchen lighting. Her usual expensive attire was replaced by an oversized pink t-shirt and khaki shorts that barely reached her mid-thigh. Her braids were in a sloppy bun as opposed to the immaculate styling they always seemed to have.

In short, she looked beautiful.

Scratch that, she was always beautiful.

But today she looked beautiful in a more intimate way, not just generically attractive.

"Do I look that crappy?"

Her annoyed voice cut me out of my daydreaming, and I vigorously shook my head. "No! You don't look bad at all. You look gorgeous!"

Instantly regretting the words as they left my mouth, I mentally chided myself as her eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"You find me 'gorgeous' when I'm braless and wearing shorts? You men are just idiots."

"No!" I frantically defended, flustered at her accusation. "I didn't even realize you weren't wearing a bra!"

She rolled her eyes at that, and my face reddened in embarrassment. I really didn't know she was braless, and even if I did, I wouldn't stare. Sure, she was well-endowed in the chest department, but I was a gentleman.

I never objectify women. Ever.

"So, Hwan," she asked casually, taking one plate of food. "What happened last night?"

We spent the next fifteen minutes narrating each side of the story, and by the time we were done, our plates were empty.

"So, I drunk-dialed you and you actually came?" she reiterated, packing up the dishes into the sink.

"You sounded like you needed help, so I came. That is what friends are for."

Puzzled, she gives me a quizzical stare. "Friends? What are you talking about?"

"You asked me to call you Hannah. And you said only your friends call you that, so that kind of means we are friends."

"I let you call me Hannah because you kept pronouncing my last name wrong. You and I aren't friends."

My heart sunk at her words, a strange mix of embarrassment and anger settling in my stomach. Hearing her so casually dismiss what I thought was a budding friendship hurt more than I wanted to admit.

It felt inexplicably humiliating.

"Thanks for clearing that up."

"I suppose I owe you thanks for taking care of me again," she continued casually, oblivious to the pain I was feeling. "I promise, this will be that last time."

"Of course," I forced out through a fake smile. "I better get going. It's already noon."

Nodding in acknowledgement, she turned her focus back to doing the dishes. She didn't even seem to realize how hurt I was, and if she did, she made no effort to address it.

That just made me feel even worse.

Quietly, I slipped out of the kitchen, then out her front door and hopefully, out of her life.

Reprimanding myself, I couldn't believe I actually let myself think Hannah and I were friends.

In fact, I couldn't believe I'd considered being friends with someone so mean and ungrateful in the first place. Thank goodness she opened my eyes to the truth, at least now I knew where she stood.

Hannah really was something and I'd finally figured it out.

She was a bitch.

A bitch I was never wasting another second of my time on ever again. The Hannah chapter of my life was officially closed.

-

Hannah's POV

As soon as Hwan was gone, I was left to my own thoughts.

The reason I got into this mess was still out there and I didn't have a plan. If I didn't figure something out soon, he'd finish me off. I needed to be ready or I was fucked.

According to the latest scientific data, I was most likely fucked.

Refusing to give up hope, I wracked my brain for a plan. First, I needed to make sure my family knew about this since they could potentially be in danger. Next, I would have to find a way to draw him out from wherever he was hiding.

I would need bait for that.

If all went well, I'd be able to gather enough evidence to land him back in jail before he could cause me any severe damage.

The ringing of the doorbell disrupted my thoughts.

Perplexed at who it could be, I stalked towards the door and looked through the peephole. Jerry, our community mailman, was on the other side, so I immediately opened the door.

"Package for Hannah Oba."

Nodding in acknowledgement, he handed me a few papers to sign, after which he gave me a small box that was very light. Closing the door, I stared at the box curiously.

I didn't remember ordering anything online and the box didn't have any postcards from anyone. Could it be from him?

Cautiously, I tore the box open and gasped at what I found inside. There were about six pictures of me and Hwan asleep on my bed, clearly taken from last night. The pictures were clear and looked as if they were taken from inside the room.

Did someone come into my house last night?

Freaking out, I searched the box for any pointers to who it might be from. Noticing a small piece of paper tucked between the photos, I took it out and with shaking hands, read its content.

YOUR BOYFRIEND IS CUTE. DIDN'T THINK ASIAN WAS YOUR TYPE, THOUGH. I'D KEEP A CLOSE EYE ON HIM IF I WERE YOU

Squeezing the paper, I threw it to the ground in fear, my breathing becoming heavy. The bastard was watching me! He was in my fucking house! In my own bedroom!

Terrified, I rushed to the front door and locked it, since it was the only way in or out of my apartment. Closing all the blinds, I crashed onto my couch, a sheen of panicked sweat glossing my forehead as I stared at the pictures.

He had found me.

Yet somehow that wasn't the only thing on my mind – heck, it wasn't even the main thing. Instead, my thoughts were filled with gruesome images of what he could do to Hwan just to spite me.

What he would do to Hwan just to spite me.

I couldn't let that happen. I wouldn't.

Hwan was innocent, he didn't deserve to get mixed up in my problems. If that monster was really willing to go this low, then I needed to be ready to dig my way into the depths of hell and go even lower.

I needed to beat him at his own game, or better yet, make him play mine.

Alright, fucktard. Bring it on.