#random encounter

[i-post-cat-videos]

[onlyonehee]

⊹︶︶ ୨୧ ︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶ ୨୧ ︶︶⊹

̩̥̩ ‿̩̩̥͙̽ ⸊ ‘cause I love you so much ˎ ˊ ˗

I fall to pieces ༝༚ °｡ · . ୨ ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎ ୧

[themaskedmuse]

I think I just had my favorite random encounter so far with Teris Redran and his pack Guar Rollie.

The joy I felt from hearing about Rollie’s sass, seeing him trudging along behind me, and having an actual dialogue box pop up when I approached him was truly amazing

I mean look at this guy!

[vidalajoon]

...

•pairing: Namjoon x main female character

•genre/tropes: doctor au, random encounter, romance, strangers to lovers, smut, slow burn, romantic comedy.

•rating: explicit

•word count: 12.6k Part 1/5

•status: ongoing || series.

•authors note: Thank you Joonie, for bringing me back to writing. And @mrsvante for always supporting me even when I couldn’t support myself.

•warnings: mentions of hang up’s of main female characters ethnicity.

I'm drowning...

It's that same feeling I have every morning, that same floating sensation, as if my mattress could sink and swallow me up. I lay there in my cold apartment, the AC always thrumming in my ears, my breaths coming out in mists, traveling like the last ghosts of the night, chased away by the early morning sunlight. I don't like to live in the shadows, but I can't escape them at night. It's hard to catch any sleep with the lights on so I just close my eyes in the dark and pretend that I'm somewhere brighter than I actually am. It's not that I'm afraid of the dark… I'm just tired of the emptiness. That's where all the worst things live, the darkness.

I give into the water for a few minutes, laying back in my bed like I'm in the middle of the ocean, counting the raised impressions on the popcorn ceiling to ground me so that I don't forget that I'm still in my apartment, that I'm awake now, that nothing can actually pull me under the water. I keep wondering when I'll sink, when my thoughts will become my reality, but I guess that's a little overly dramatic. People don't actually sink... they give up.

I'm not giving up. I'm still kicking.

But still, somehow, I'm drowning.

—

The weather was way too hot, like disgustingly hot, the kind of hot that leaves you wiping sweat off places that you shouldn't even be sweating from. I probably wouldn't even be out if it wasn't for the fact that I really, really needed to go to the farmer's market. There's a cart that has the best avocados, and I'm not even ashamed to admit that I have a serious addiction. Sure, send me to a 12-step program. I probably still won't give them up. I might even convert my sponsor with visions of avocado toast and guacamole.

Do I sound like a millennial? It shouldn't surprise you because I am one. My generation is apparently fucking up the housing market and running fast food places out business or some shit like that. It's our fault that McDonald's, real estate, the stock market, and golf were dying. Sure thing, it was all us.

Because we buy avocados.

In my case, it was the literal truth though, so I really shouldn't be one to talk. Plus, I don't know any better. I can act innocent and coy. Nobody really raised me. I spent the better half of my childhood in the foster care system, but that's a story for another day.

I wasn't really expecting much but avocados and sweat stains in all those places that I mentioned (or didn't mention because it's too gross to talk about), but life has a way of taking you by surprise sometimes. No, the avocados weren't the highlight of my day.

He was.

Over by the strawberry booth, flirting and joking with the old ass strawberry lady, making her smile because that was just the way he was, those were just the kind of things he did. He had one of those dazzling Hollywood smiles, all straight white teeth and deep dimples that looked more like laugh lines because yeah, this guy was always smiling. He was a t-shirt and jeans guy; a windswept black hair guy; a starless dark dreamy eyes guy; a golden sun tanned skin guy...in other words, exactly the kind of guy I would've walked past without a second thought because guys like that usually walked past me without a second thought too. I was weaving in and out of the crowd, looking for my avocado guy so I probably wouldn't have even noticed him if it wasn't for the fact that he didn't walk past me. He did something really suicidal: he grabbed my bag and pulled me to a halting stop.

I wasn't impressed the first time I saw him. He was a good-looking guy; probably some creep that thought I was an easy lay.

He had the grace to let go of the strap of my bag after the look I gave him, holding up his hands as if trying to show that he wasn't some creep, but I wasn't buying it. I know from experience that only the worst kind of creeps have to go out of their way to prove that they aren't creeps.

"What?" I asked, annoyed.

"You dropped this," he said, holding up a ring of keys. My car keys.

"Oh, shit," I said, suddenly feeling like an ass. Cue the donkey haw.

He put my keys in my palm with one of those shit-eating grins, clearly amused by my embarrassment. Whatever.

"Thanks," I said, dropping my keys in my bag. "Sorry, I'm kind of a bitch this early in the morning."

He shielded his eyes and looked up at the sky.

"It's noon."

"Exactly," I said.

He, the creep, laughed. One of those deep, throaty laughs that sound genuine, but I wasn't really feeling up to laughing with some hotshot creep at the farmer's market. I had more important things to do. Like finding avocados.

"Want a smoothie? It'll wake you up."

Yep, the whole easy lay conversation that usually begins with some nice gesture.

"My body doesn't exactly react well to that kind of stuff so it's gonna have to be a hard pass."

"Your body reacts badly to smoothies?"

"Anything healthy in general. Except for avocados."

"You don't eat anything healthy except for avocados?"

No shit, wasn't that what I'd just said? But he had returned my car keys, something he hadn't had to do, so I decided to cut the guy some slack.

"Healthy things throw my whole immune system out of order. My body is used to working overtime to accommodate the cheeseburgers or whatever other shit I'm engorging myself with for the day. I don't want my body getting lazy. I've got to keep it working."

"You'd probably make a terrible boss."

"I'm a good boss, actually."

"Alright boss, so how do you get your day started then?"

"I get out of bed."

He laughed. Another genuine one, throwing me off a little.

"But what really wakes you up in the mornings? Anything in particular?"

"My alarm clock."

"You know what I mean. Don't make me have to explain what I'm really asking you."

"Alright, you got me. Coffee."

"Why didn't you just say that?"

"I don't feel comfortable talking about my addictions with strangers."

"You're making it really hard for me to ask you on a date."

Bingo. There it is.

"Is that what you're doing?"

"Obviously."

"Didn't seem so obvious to me."

"You're full of shit. Come on, I know a place."

"I don't remember agreeing to a date."

"You got anything better to do?"

"I'm looking for my avocado guy. Another addiction."

"Perfect. It's on the way."

I did kind of want a coffee, and he had returned my keys so I just shrugged.

"Try not to look too excited," he teased, motioning for me to follow him.

I bought twelve avocados from the avocado guy (shut up, don't judge me) and gifted one to the creep just for the hell of it. He seemed really pleased, acting like it was the best gift he'd ever received, cradling it carefully like it was a baby. This guy was weird, but in a frustratingly charming way. I tried not to make it too obvious that I was warming up to him, but I was pretty sure he'd caught on. He was smiling a lot more, like approval from this mean brown chick was boosting his confidence or something.

He seemed to know the farmer's market backwards and forwards because he led me through it like it was a maze, catching my wrist in one of his big hands at some point to keep from losing me in the crowd. I didn't shake him off, but I still couldn't tell you why. He stopped us in front of a food truck I'd never seen before.

"Hungry?" he asked, pulling out his wallet.

"Meals are strictly reserved for second dates," I said, humoring him.

"Alright, you're not wrong," he said grinning and walking up to the truck. "Two coffees."

"I can pay," I said, catching him by the sleeve. "To repay you for returning my keys."

"First of all, you already got me a great avocado. And secondly, these are first date rules 101. I'm buying."

"Are we living in the stone ages? I can pay."

"First argument already," he said, laughing. "You move this fast in all your other relationships?"

I rolled my eyes and shoved him out of the way, sliding my credit card across the counter. He tried to act like he was really offended, but the corners of his mouth were twitching, suppressing a smile. The sun was shining down on him, making him look like an absolute dream beneath the cloudless blue sky. He really was attractive and something told me that he probably knew it.

Two coffee cups and a picnic table later we were introducing ourselves. The avocado sat next to his hand. He was lovingly stroking it. Weirdo.

"Gary."

I snorted into my coffee.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he said, laughing and passing me a napkin.

"Not that Gary's bad," he added. "I have a second cousin once removed named Gary. Or is he a first cousin twice removed? Shit, I can't really keep up at the family reunions. Nice guy, though."

Family reunions. I'd forgotten that regular people had to pencil those into their schedules every once in a while. If you haven't guessed already from my brief mention of being a foster kid, I have no family. Not even extended family.

"So what's your name then?" I asked. "Can't be any worse than Gary."

"It's not," he said. "My name's Chauncey. Great name, right?"

"Oh my god," I said, laughing even though I'd been trying really hard not to. "Really?"

"Nah."

"I don't go on second dates with strangers, you know."

He leaned in across the picnic table, his face inches from mine. His dark brown eyes flashed mischievously.

"Ever kissed a stranger before?"

"No," I said, inching back.

"Let's get that checked off your bucket list. Kiss me and I'll tell you my name, I promise."

"No."

"Your mouth says no but your eyes say yes."

"You don't know a damned thing about my eyes."

"I know that they're beautiful."

I had to cover my nose with my hand to stifle a snort.

"You're really cringey," I said.

He reached out and curled a hand around the back of my neck, pulling me so close to his face that I could feel his breath warm on my lips. My mouth hung open in shock. I recovered quickly.

"Ever heard of personal space?"

"I don't see you pulling away."

Screw it.

"Jesus, just kiss me and get it over with already."

And that was our first kiss. Under the blazing hot sun at the buzzing farmer's market, teeth knocking for one awkward moment, smiling against each other's mouths, and then we forgot where we were. His fingers slipped into my hair, his hand warm and soft, making me lose myself until my hands left the coffee on the table and ended up in his black hair, thicker than I was expecting, finding a grip and pulling him even closer, tasting that first date coffee on his lips. He kissed me like I was air in his lungs, like he needed my lips to breathe, inhaling, groaning, running his tongue along mine the second my mouth opened.

"Oh shit," I gasped, pulling back. I'd only intended for it to be a short little kiss to make him lose interest. I'd always been a terrible kisser.

Until now. My mouth had moved so naturally with his that I could probably pass for an expert.

"Joon," he said, leaning back and running a hand through his hair to fix it.

"What?"

"My name. It's Joon. Don't ask what it's short for because it actually is kind of terrible."

I was still trying to catch my breath. I had a hand on my chest and his eyes travelled there, pausing maybe a second too long on my low-cut shirt. Being eyed by a guy like that usually disgusted me, but for some reason I was feeling flattered. God, what the fuck was wrong with me?

"That was actually my first time kissing a stranger too," he said. "Tell me your name."

"Celine."

He started humming "My Heart Will Go On".

"You're not funny."

"Far across the distance, and spaces between us. You have come to show you go on."

"I can't believe you know the lyrics to that song. I'm embarrassed for you."

"Lighten up, Dion. It's one of your greatest hits," he said, grinning. "I'm a huge fan. Will you autograph my shirt?"

"No."

"Okay, how about your number? You don't even have to autograph it. Just put it in my phone," he said, unlocking his phone and passing it to me before I could get the chance to refuse.

"I don't remember agreeing to a second date," I muttered, putting my number in his phone. I don't know why I did it. Maybe because he seemed like he'd be a fun person to send drunken 2 AM texts to. At least that was what I was telling myself. That kiss was still fresh in my mind.

"I don't remember asking for one."

I glanced up.

"Relax, I'm kidding. How's Wednesday night for you?"

"What, this week?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Isn't that moving a little fast?"

I really hadn't intended for it to come this far. I'd just been playing around.

"We've already had our first argument. Fast is our speed, Celie."

"Ugh, don't call me that."

"Cute nickname for a cute girl. I don't see the problem."

Cute. This guy was out of this goddamn mind. I hadn't been called cute since I was a kid. I'm not being modest when I say this, but I'm not cute...I'm not anything. I'm just brown: brown hair, brown eyes, brown skin, brown everything. I swear if you peeled back my skull you'd probably find brown there too. Not that brown's bad, but being brown, this brown, being brown and nothing but brown, makes me unbearably plain. And even though I have a Hispanic last name, I have none of the good attributes that come with being one. I don't have a huge ass or the confidence that comes with it. Plus, I can't even speak Spanish. It makes most Mexican ladies at the farmer's market drop their mouths in horror. Why didn't your parents teach you, mija? First of all, my parents are dead, and second of all, I don't even know you lady so fuck off.

"You're really overbearing," I said to Joon. "And pushy."

"I might've heard that once or twice in my life," he said innocently.

"Once or twice. Sure."

"Maybe a few more times than that."

You might've guessed that we were a couple of teenagers from the way we were acting, but neither of us were. He looked about my age, mid-twenties to early-thirties at most. His smile caused crinkles to form in the corners of his eyes, crows feet that really suited him in a way that suggested that he was going to age gracefully like a movie star. Some people have all the luck. It was beginning to feel weirder and weirder hanging out with a guy like him.

"I have to go," I said, getting up.

He got up too, picking up on the panicked chihuahua look in my eyes right away.

"Hey, it's okay," he said gently. "It doesn't have to be Wednesday."

"It's not that," I said, giving him a half-hearted smile. "I'm just...well, my life's a little fucked up right now."

"Mine too," he said. "We can be fucked up together."

"You really are pushy."

"So I've been told."

This guy was the very definition of persistence. I thought about the grueling workdays I had to look forward to this week at my soul-sucking job and considered that it might be nice to hang out with someone who could make me laugh. I didn't take a lot of chances in life, and I didn't really have a lot of friends either. Moving from school to school at a young age and never going to college made it really hard for me to make friends. My only friends are from work, which is pretty pathetic if you really think about it. Hanging out with this guy was starting to sound like a good idea. I was probably going to regret it later, but what the hell.

"Wednesday night. Eight o'clock. Saddleback Ranch at the Block. Don't be late."

"Saddleback Ranch?" He laughed. "You better ride the mechanical bull if you're making me go there."

My face reddened.

"It's dead on weeknights. I thought we could go somewhere dark and quiet to relax. Jeez."

"My apartment is pretty dark and quiet."

"You're pushing your luck."

"Worth a try."

"I'm gonna go now," I said, turning to leave.

For the second time that day he grabbed my bag.

"Let's end this date properly," he said, pressing his lips to mine. It was exactly like before; almost immediately I was melting into him, giving in and tasting him because god he really did taste good. My fingers closed around his shirt, brushing against his taut abs. His hands found my waist, pulling me flush against his body, trapping my hands between us. I found myself rising up on my toes to get closer because he was taller than I'd realized. He leaned down for me, easing the burden, taking my face in his hands, kissing me until I felt completely breathless.

Fuck. This was not good.

I pulled back, looking mortified.

"That bad, huh?" he said. "And all this time I thought I was a pretty decent kisser."

"You're ridiculous," I said, trying to slow my heart.

"Do I scare you?"

"A little."

"Is it my smile? Too creepy?"

"Way too creepy.”

"I'll try to smile less on Wednesday."

"No," I said, not believing what I was saying. "I like creepy."

"I can be creepy."

"You are creepy," I said, pushing him away. I took a step back, putting some distance between us. I wasn't the kind of person that lost control. I always had my shit together.

"Glad we've established that. I'll be whatever you want. Just say the word."

I sucked back a ragged sigh. I really needed to get the hell out of there.

"I'll see you Wednesday, Joon."

"Bye, Dion. Sign my shirt next time."

—

My soul-sucking job that I mentioned was hell in employment form. I would have quit years ago, but it turned out that I was really good at my job...too good. The advancement opportunities had been especially tempting since the company only hired from within. I'd started as a customer service agent at the call center of one of the largest insurance companies in the country, right at headquarters with the call center on the third floor and the CEO putting his feet up on the sixth. I'd wanted to climb up those steps, to sink my toes into that water until I wasn't drowning anymore, until I was swimming with the current rather than against it.

I worked hard. I got where I wanted to be...or as far as I could without a college degree at least. By twenty-five, I'd been a supervisor for a few years and then I was shaking hands with the board, accepting the job as site manager for the entire call center. No one knew the product line manuals as well as I did; I could practically repeat word-for-word every auto, home, umbrella, and watercraft policy amendment. I was a walking, talking textbook.

They call me the Dragon Lady at work, and not even behind my back. If you haven't picked up on it already, I'm pretty no-nonsense to the point where I'm even considered cold. I run my department with an iron fist, pushing two hundred and seventy-five agents to meet and exceed every quality service audit, customer review, and services referral quota. I sent all my supervisors to management courses, and personally interviewed every new batch of agents in the new hire process. I doubled referral incentives and numbers tripled. People really worked harder when you gave them the opportunity to earn more money.

Within three years I'd boosted efficiency and sales to such record highs that my site practically carried all of the western states. I earned vacation trips that I never took, bonuses that I never spent, and awards that I never displayed. Managers from across the country came to shadow and observe every anal perfect thing I did. A fucking nightmare. I was the only one allowed to breathe down people's necks. Dragon Lady, remember?

You'd think my job would be all about numbers, team meetings, quotas, and authorizing policy changes outside of supervisor authority, but really call center managers spend a lot of time dealing with stupid customers who don't believe complaining to an agent or their supervisor is enough. Then I was giving discounts, lowering premiums, forgiving drivers record points, and pretty much everything but sucking dick to retain all the good clients; like the ones that had a brand new Audi Q5, a vintage Ashton Martin and a sixteen year old daughter driving a Mercedes Benz all on the same policy. That's a good six thousand a year in insurance premium. Great for my bonus, terrible for my sanity.

If you live in Orange County, California long enough, I guarantee you'll know the posh places just by the cars on the streets alone. I was successful enough to be able to afford to live in one of those places now, but sometimes I wondered if being yelled at by rich people was really worth it. It especially sucked the soul out of me to take shit from people who weren't even richer than me.

But I won't quit. It's been three years since I'd accepted the position now, and the only thing that keeps me going is the fact that I got out of the system and I'd made it. I knew I was the exception, not the rule. People with backgrounds like mine weren't supposed to make it. Foster kids like me get cast out at eighteen to fend for ourselves, thrown into the world that had never wanted us in the first place. Everything had been against me from the start. The satisfaction was what really kept me here, almost like I was rubbing it into society's nose even though nobody cared.

Someday I want to be a member of the board, but maybe that's too ambitious. I'd need to have at least a bachelor's degree to climb even one step up those floors at headquarters. I'd considered going to college at least a hundred times because I'd spent so much of my life crawling out of this hole that life had put me in, clawing and scratching with my bare hands, taking every foothold that I could find, but there was no way that I could fit in school with my schedule. Most days I was lucky if I could manage getting off without at least twelve to fifteen hours logged.

Soul-fucking-sucking.

But I had a lot to prove to myself. So here I am, crawling out of one hole and digging myself into another.

—

I was on my fourth sea cream black iced coffee of the day, buried ass-deep in work when I realized that it was already 7:15 PM. It was Wednesday, the night of my 'date'.

"Shit," I hissed under my breath.

The 'Floor' is the term call centers use for where all the magic happens. Here you'll find all the cubicles with my agents, all my supervisors, and all the calls ringing one after the other to service the next policy holder. I did my final Floor walk of the day, checked in with the six evening-shift supervisors, told the senior supervisor that she was to absolutely, under no fucking circumstances call me for just this one night, gave a few encouraging words to some of the struggling agents for morale or whatever, and then I was practically running for the elevators. A real bitch in heels, let me tell you.

"Celine, Celine," said a nasally voice just as I stepped out of the main doors of the Floor.

Fuck me. I couldn't catch a break.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

Trying to get as far away from you as possible.

"I have a date."

Yeah, take that, David from Underwriting. If you really need a dictionary example for a true freak then David's your guy. As if having to pick up the phone and call him at least ten times a day to expedite reinstatements, high liability increases and new home policy inspections wasn't enough, the little freak picked up the phone almost as many times to ask me about my day and see if I wanted to 'hang out'.

"Aw, have fun," he said in a tone that didn't sound like he meant it.

"Bye, David."

One of the advantages of being a boss was having a parking space right in front of the building. The authority was liberating and the money was astounding, but the parking space was the icing on the cake. I could still remember the fifteen minute walk to the parking lot across the street from my days as a lowly customer service agent. I guess that had been the bigger bitch in heels.

I flung open my car door like a madwoman, cursing myself for losing track of time. I didn't have enough time to change into the casual clothes I'd brought...an outfit that didn't scream too 'fuck me' but not boring enough to accentuate my plainness. Walking into Saddleback Ranch in a business suit was about the worst thing I could imagine, but it seemed too rude to cancel now. For all I knew he was already there.

If you know anything about Southern California freeways then you know that just after 7 PM at the 55 N and I-5 N junction, traffic clears up like a dream. I had a green fuel-efficient decal on my car that let me drive single-occupant in the carpool lane so I gunned it, driving just a little over the speed limit, but not too much because I'd been working in personal lines insurance long enough to know just how much a speeding ticket could fuck you over.

I somehow made it from Newport Beach to Orange in thirty-five minutes. Fuck if I'll ever know how I did it, but it seemed like somehow the stars were aligning for this date. I didn't really know how to feel about that. The high of those kisses had worn off fast. Why the hell would a guy like that even want to go on a date with someone like me? I'm not saying this because I lack confidence; I'm saying it because I doubt the two of us had anything in common. I felt like he was mostly just pulling my leg and enjoyed my company because I'd been able to make him laugh. I was okay with that. I enjoyed his company too.

My luck ran out at the outdoor outlet mall. Parking was an absolute nightmare. I kept driving around and around until I could swear that I was starting to get dizzy. My head ached from a sudden coffee crash, and looking at my watch to see that it was only five minutes to eight didn't help. I didn't find a spot until I was already ten minutes late. It wasn't even a great spot, at least halfway across the parking lot to the nearest building. I made the call to switch into my gym shoes, and what did I do? I fucking ran. In a business suit and Nikes. I was anal enough about punctuality that I couldn't stand running even a second later than I already was. God help me.

I was bent over clutching a stitch in my side in front of Saddleback Ranch when I heard a choked laugh.

"Looks like you're running as late as I am."

I looked up and saw Joon, breathing heavily to catch his breath, wearing hospital scrubs with an M.D. title after his name on a security badge. That really threw me off.

"What the fuck?"

"What?"

"You're a doctor."

He reached up a hand to scratch the back of his head nervously.

"Let's not talk about it," he said with a grimace.

"Kind of hard not to."

"You're in a business suit."

"Let's not talk about it."

"Kind of hard not to," he said with a smirk.

"Okay, Dr. Namjoon Kim." I said squinting at his badge. 

"Shut up. You hungry or not, Gutierrez?" he asked, reading off the security badge still clipped to my blazer. I pulled it off and shoved it in my pocket.

He seemed to like my idea. He unclipped his badge and stuck it in his own pocket.

"We look so weird," I said, looking down at my clothes. Joon walked over and touched my blazer, fixing the lapel that had become crooked after I'd snatched my badge off.

"Still haven't picked up on that personal space thing, I see."

"I still don't see you pulling away."

"I'm leaving."

He laughed.

"Let's go inside. I haven't eaten in fifteen hours. I'm starving."

Outside of a bagel that I'd stuffed in my mouth on the way to work in the morning, I hadn't really had anything to eat either. Just coffee. Too much coffee. Food sounded heavenly right now.

We asked to be seated in the absolute darkest corner of the restaurant. It left a lot of options since Saddleback Ranch pretty much just turns into more of a dark bar at night anyways. The hostess eyed Joon hungrily, her eyes traveling to places that made me feel uncomfortable. It was kind of disgusting. I didn't know Joon, but I knew that he didn't deserve that.

Or maybe I was just being dramatic. I didn't need to get offended on his behalf. He was probably used to it anyways.

"You know, I thought it must've been fate when you said you wanted to meet at the Block," Joon said, sliding a menu in front of him once we'd been seated.

"I live close by," I said.

"And I work close by."

"Where? UCI Medical Center across the street?"

"I thought we agreed not to talk about it."

"So you're what, embarrassed that you're a doctor?"

He smiled that Hollywood smile. I tried not to let it affect me.

"It kind of makes me look like a nerd."

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"It's a touchy subject for me," he said, laughing. "Why don't you tell me what you do for a living? I really want to know what kind of job requires a business suit paired with running shoes."

"I put on the shoes to run here from the parking lot. I really hate being late."

"No shit," he said. "I ran here too."

"We're twins," I said without thinking.

"No, no, no," he said immediately. "I really don't want to imagine you as my sister, Dion. It ruins all the fantasies I've been having of you."

"Stop calling me that," I said. "And what the hell kind of fantasies have you been having? Pervert."

"The kind of fantasies that ruin second dates. I don't want you throwing a glass of water in my face and storming off."

"I'm considering it."

"Tell me where you work," he said. "I'm genuinely intrigued now. I wouldn't have taken you for a business suit kind of girl."

"First of all, I'm a woman, not a girl. And secondly, it's none of your business."

"The whole point of a date is to get to know each other."

"I thought we agreed not to talk about it."

"I'm curious."

"Tell me where you work then."

"CHOC. Now pay up. Where do you work?"

The Children's Hospital of Orange County? It was hard to imagine that this avocado-cradling weirdo actually treated sick children for a living. But maybe avocado-cradlers are just the kind of people best suited for a children's hospital. It kind of changed my whole perception of him, but I wasn't going to admit that to his face.

I told him the name of the insurance company I worked at.

"I have my car insurance with them," he said. "Small world."

"Not that small considering that we have 8 million policy holders in Southern California alone."

"You look really corporate."

"How perceptive of you. I work at headquarters."

"What do you do there?"

"I'm the call center site manager. I run Southern California, servicing policies everywhere beneath Bakersfield and above the border."

He let out a low whistle.

"Oh, stop it," I said, waving him off. "You're a doctor, for fuck's sake."

"Still pretty impressive for a young woman. How old are you? You still look like a teenager."

I scowled.

"Thanks for that. I'm twenty-eight. Not exactly a prepubescent teen."

"Most people take it as a compliment when they're told that they look younger than they are."

"I'm not most people."

"That's why I asked you out."

So he did come here just to pull my leg. Good. I could pull his back.

"How old are you? If you look younger than you actually are then you're probably an old pervert for asking out a woman that you mistook for a teenager."

"Thirty-one. Close to thirty-two, though."

"God, you pedophile."

He laughed.

"I didn't actually mistake you for a teenager. I just thought you looked young."

"You're a predator."

"And yet you agreed to go out with me."

"I'm starting to wonder why I did."

"Because I let you be mean to me."

"I'm mean to everyone."

"You know, I can read most people, but I can't read you at all," he said with another one of those annoyingly charming smiles.

"I'm not a book."

"How do I get you to lighten up?"

"Buy me a drink," I said, smiling despite myself. I don't know why, but I was actually kind of enjoying this. Most people were too scared of me to hold a conversation this long. He was giving as good as he got.

"Deal. You really do have to lighten up though."

"Better be a strong drink."

Jesus fucking Christ. His smile was ridiculously gorgeous. It was a goofy sort of smile, the kind that you usually reserved for children. I felt like I was one of his patients and his smile was a lollipop. Or a sticker. I don't know if they still hand out lollipops.

The waitress was a tiny thing, blonde and with a pixie face and haircut. She looked like Tinkerbell. She didn't act like the horndog hostess. I guess people who expect tips know better than to check out somebody else's date.

"Order a strong drink," Joon said. "Really strong."

"I'll have the l Mai Tai. Make it extra special. I want Bacardi."

Joon grinned.

"Same for me. I want to know what that tastes like."

"Coming right up," the waitress said, walking away.

"That's a chick drink," I pointed out.

"Didn't take you for being sexist."

"I'm not allowed to make a joke?"

"I can't believe you're making a joke at all," he said with a laugh. "You're always so serious that I didn't even catch it."

"I'm just trying to lighten up."

"So is it a defense mechanism?" he asked.

"What are you talking about?"

"This. Being mean all the time."

"Don't you try and psychoanalyze me."

"I'm not a psychiatrist. I'm just trying to figure out what made you the way you are. Not that there's anything wrong with your attitude. I just want to know why."

"I don't really have an answer for that. I've just always been this way."

"What was your childhood like?"

"You want my full family history too? Cancer in the family? Diabetes?"

He laughed.

"You're a smartass."

"I might have heard that once or twice in my life," I said, remembering our conversation from the other day.

"Once or twice. Sure."

"Maybe a few more times than that."

He held my gaze, a soft twinkling haze glowing in his dark eyes from the lights hung on the ceiling. The expression on his face was one of amusement, but I had a feeling that he wasn't amused by me per say, just by our conversation. It was off-setting.

He didn't miss it.

"Are you still creeped out by me?" he asked.

"No."

"Then tell me about your past. I'm a doctor. You can trust me."

"You're not my doctor."

"We can pretend."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Nope," he said, grinning.

"You're annoying."

"That's a new one."

"I'm sure you've heard it before."

"Once or twice."

And then I was laughing too. It wasn't that there weren't witty people out there, but I met very few that had the patience to take me on. I had a few friends that tried, but they struggled to keep up. Joon wasn't struggling. He was fighting like hell.

"Alright, I think you've earned an answer," I said. "I'm like this because I'm closed off."

"You're protecting yourself," he said. "From what?"

"I don't trust people."

"You're trusting me."

"Only because you're forcing me to."

"Keep talking. Tell me about your childhood."

I sighed.

"I mean, I just have to say three words and it'll all make sense."

"Don't tell me you love me already," he said with a smug smile. "Although I am pretty lovable so I can't blame you."

"So full of yourself," I muttered. "Foster care system. Those are the three words."

That knocked the smile right off his mouth.

"That does explain a lot. You grew up fighting the world," he said. "You still are."

His eyes had softened.

This was starting to get too heavy for me. I couldn't even recall the last time I'd told someone I'd grown up in the system. I couldn't remember the last time I'd told someone anything even remotely personal at all, for that matter.

I really needed that drink.

"Tell me about you," I said, changing the subject. "Are you a pediatrician?"

"No."

"That's it? No explanation?"

"I don't really like to talk about it."

"Why not?"

"It changes how people look at me."

"Don't tell me you're a foot doctor or something."

He laughed.

"No, podiatry's not really my thing."

"I thought the whole point of a date was getting to know each other," I said, using his own words against him. "Now spill."

"I'm licensed to practice medicine, but I haven't completed my residency. I still have a fellowship following residency before I'll be ready to sit the specialty boards."

"I didn't understand half the things you just said."

He laughed.

"Sorry, it's easy to forget. I'm usually only around medical professionals."

"You gonna explain any of that to me?"

"Sure, if you're interested."

"Obviously, or I wouldn't ask."

"Which part is it that confuses you?"

"All of it. Hit me with the basics, doc. How does one become a doctor?"

"Okay, let me try to simplify it," he said, leaning back and crossing his arms. "The M.D. title on my badge stands for Medical Doctor. I earned that title after completing medical school and acquiring my medical degree. A medical degree doesn't really mean shit, though. You can't practice medicine with a piece of paper. After you get your medical degree you have to complete a one-year internship before you're eligible to sit the board exam to get your medical license."

"So that's it? Medical school, a year of internship and then boom, you're a doctor?"

"Yes and no. A medical license is practically worthless without the residency that comes after."

"You said you're completing your residency. So this is the step you're in now?"

"Yes. Completing a residency program is how you can call yourself a member of a specific profession within medicine. You wouldn't be able to call yourself a pediatrician, podiatrist, gynecologist, psychiatrist-any specialty-without completing a residency program. Some specialties will require a fellowship after residency. Once you're done with all of that you can sit the specialty board exams to get board certified. Then you can finally call yourself a qualified doctor."

"Joon," I said. "I just realized something."

"What?"

"You've been beating around the bush this whole fucking time. You still haven't told me what your damn specialty is. Don't think I didn't catch that."

He ran a hand down his face and groaned.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"It's my turn to be pushy."

"My clinical interest is in pediatric surgery."

What the hell?

"So I've been sitting across the table from a surgeon this whole time."

All he did was shrug. Jesus, it was almost like he hated his profession.

"Why don't you like telling people? Sounds pretty impressive to me."

"That's the point," he said. "I'm not just my profession."

"I thought surgeons were supposed to be really full of themselves."

"Most of them are. I'm not."

"Why not?"

"I don't tell people I'm a surgeon because then I just get written off as a surgeon and nothing else. People don't care who I am, just what I am. I hate it."

Okay, that made me feel pretty bad. I probably shouldn't have bullied it out of him, but whatever.

"I get that. I wrote you off as some creepy hot guy at first. Must be worse to just be written off as just your profession. People probably don't take the time to get to know who you are as a person."

"You think I'm hot?"

I kicked him under the table and he winced. Why did I ever let myself believe that this guy wasn't full of himself?

"Alright, I deserved that," he said. "I appreciate what you said. It's true. My hectic schedule doesn't really give me the opportunity to make many friends, and even when I do make any outside of the hospital I just always end up being treated like I'm better than I am."

"What's your schedule like?"

"Another thing I don't like to talk about."

"Why not?"

"It's pretty bad."

That actually made me laugh.

"It's your turn to lighten up. I don't care that you're a surgeon. I just want to know about your crazy life."

It was the truth. In some weird way I was starting to feel like our lives were similar. People always wrote me off too. I was pretty sick of everyone at work kissing my ass just because I was their boss.

"I've never had anyone tell me that they don't care that I'm a surgeon," he said. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"That's pretty pathetic."

"I know," he said. "I'll tell you about my schedule if you promise to see me again."

"Are you trying to lock me down in case it scares me off?"

"Yes."

So he wasn't just pulling my leg. This guy actually liked me. What the hell?

"Must be pretty bad then," I said.

He sighed.

"You have no idea."

"Tell me about your hectic schedule. I'll see you again."

He looked so happy, like a third date was even better than an avocado. I tried not to let it affect me. I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that he wanted to keep seeing me. Not that I was bad, but jeez, what the hell would he want from me anyways?

"The on-call rotation has me scheduled thirty hour on-call shifts every three to four days. I work regular workdays in between, but they're not much better because most days I usually work up to sixteen hours. I get twenty four hours off after on-call duties, but I wouldn't really call it a day off. I spend most of it sleeping or running errands."

"Thirty hour shifts?" I asked, feeling my heart still.

"Thirty hours straight."

"Is that even legal?"

"It is in residency programs. It's tradition, actually."

"Do you get time to sleep at least?"

"Not really."

"That's fucking crazy."

"I don't really mind."

"How can you not mind?"

"It's a necessary evil. I round on my patients morning, afternoon, and evening. I know everything about them. This is how I learn to assess and treat their needs quickly. Helps me learn to think on my feet. That doesn't mean that it doesn't kill me sometimes and make me wonder why the fuck I chose this profession."

"So you're okay with it because it's helping you become a better doctor?"

"Yeah."

"You sound really dedicated."

"I have to be," he said. "All of my patients are children."

My heart was swelling. It wasn't often that people earned my respect. This guy was sacrificing his sleep and his sanity to save small lives. I didn't know a single person like that. I especially wasn't like that. Everything I'd ever accomplished had been done for self-satisfaction.

Ugh. What the fuck. I didn't know what to make of this guy.

"How did you even have the time to see me tonight?" I asked, trying to keep my tone even. I was having some kind of weird-ass existential crisis or something.

"I made the time."

"You made the time to see the mean avocado lady from the farmer's market?"

"I really like that mean avocado lady from the farmer's market, so yeah, I made the time."

These were warm feelings. They swept over me, over my skin, over everything, making me feel like everything was moving in slow-motion. What the hell was happening? I hadn't prepared for this. This whole thing was supposed to be in harmless fun. Now there was this whole other third date.

At that moment my phone went off, jumping me out of my thoughts.

"Oh, shit," I said, pulling it out of my blazer pocket.

Fucking Lisa.

"Take it here if you want," Joon said. "I don't mind."

"I'm sorry. I only need a minute," I said, pressing the answer button.

"You're interrupting my dinner."

"I'm so sorry, Celine. Portal just crashed. We can't take any payments."

I sighed.

"What do we pay you for, Lisa? You should know this. Transfer to Roadside, Sales and Retention. They run on different billing systems."

"Okay. I really don't know when Portal will be back up though."

"I didn't ask you if you knew. Hang up your call with IT on the other line. I know they have you on hold. Send a supervisor down there to handle this personally."

"Okay, and what do you want me to do about Jessica? She's still goofing off between calls and distracting everybody. I've already told her to knock it off like three times tonight."

"Write her up for insubordination and send her home."

"Okay, and-"

"Stop saying 'okay'. I really don't have the time for this right now. I told you not to call me tonight. You know what to do. You're a senior supervisor for a reason. Handle this. I'm hanging up now."

"Celine, I-"

"There better be a fire if you call me back tonight."

I hung up and put my phone back in my pocket. I tried not to look too annoyed. I can't leave one evening before closing without being needed. It wasn't like Lisa didn't know all this. She's been with the company for almost as many years as I've been alive. She just lacked the confidence in her leadership and decision making. So much hand-holding. Fucking hell.

"You really are mean to everyone."

I looked up.

Joon was grinning his ears off.

"Liked that, did you?"

"It was kind of hot."

I couldn't even suppress my smile. What the hell was up with this guy? He liked the things about me that everyone else hated.

"They call me the Dragon Lady behind my back."

"You sound so proud."

I snorted.

"No one likes me."

"I like you," Joon said.

The waitress appeared with our drinks before I could think up a response. It was a good thing because I didn't know how to answer that anyways. I just did my best to compose myself enough to order my dinner. Joon had his eyes on me the whole time, briefly glancing at the waitress when she was talking to him. He wasn't rude, but shit, I didn't know what he was. Or what he was doing.

That waitress was getting a big tip. The drink was strong.

"This tastes like pure alcohol," Joon said, taking a sip of his own.

"I don't see how that's a problem."

"It's not," he said, grinning. "Just one more drink like this and I'll be drunk. You could probably take advantage of me."

"Lightweight. And I wouldn't take advantage of you. I'm not a predator."

"It's not an offense if I want it."

I rolled my eyes.

"You're sick."

"No. I just treat the sick."

"You think you're so cool just because you're a doctor."

"I think I've worked hard enough to be considered cool."

"You're just a nerd," I said, remembering what he had said earlier.

"You knew I was touchy about that. I should've never told you."

"I mean, you wore your scrubs here. You're obviously trying to show off."

He laughed.

"I had a last-minute admission. I didn't have time to go change without being later than I already was so I just sucked it up and prepared myself for all the questions."

"I already told you I don't care."

"That's probably why I'm gonna marry you."

"You really don't get out enough," I said, amused.

"I get out enough to meet cute girls at the farmer's market."

I didn't bother correcting him about calling me a girl. It had to do a lot with my childhood, about how I couldn't wait to grow up so I could get out of the system. I'd always hated being called a girl. I'd already overcome that. It brought back painful memories. But Joon's comments were all innocent. It didn't hurt when he said it so I let it go.

"How did you even manage to find the time to go?"

"To the farmer's market? It was a regular workday. I had a few hours."

"What were you doing there in the first place?"

"Residents get pretty sick of hospital food. It was my turn to pick up the goods."

"Do you all just live there?"

I wasn't being serious, but his answer was enough to make my jaw drop.

"Practically. We're provided with sleeping rooms, a reading room, a lounge and food within the hospital facilities. It doesn't really make sense to leave when sometimes you barely get eight hours between shifts."

"I do have an apartment though," he added, catching the expression of shock on my face. "I go home more often than the others. My place is only twenty minutes away."

"Your life," I said, finding my voice, "Sounds crazy."

"That's why I don't like talking about it. What's your workweek like?"

"Crazy in its own way. I usually work Monday through Saturday since Sundays aren't that busy, but sometimes I'll go in on those days too. I usually start the day with the early bird shift at eight, and then I'm lucky if I can get off before closing at ten. Some days I'm there even long after that. I work at least a hundred hours a week. I spend the few hours I have off sleeping or running errands just like you so I really understood what you meant about not actually having any time off."

"I never thought anyone outside of the medical field could have a life so similar to mine."

"You have the lives of small children in your hands. Managing a call center isn't anywhere near as demanding or stressful as that."

"It doesn't negate what you go through," he said. "Your reality is your own. In it you are overworked and stressed. Pain is subjective."

I flinched. I'd never told him I was in pain.

I'd never told him I was drowning.

"We shouldn't talk about our jobs," I said in a strained voice. "It's-It's too much."

Joon stood up and for a moment I thought he was going to leave. It made sense; we'd be lucky if we'd be able to manage the time to see each other. Both of us lived in our own constant bubbles of stress that threatened to pop and flood us any second. This would be doubling it, doubling the pain.

"Scoot over."

"Wha-"

"You heard me."

He didn't wait for me to register his words, just slid in next to me, wrapped an arm around my waist to lift me and settled me deeper in the booth. Before I could say anything, before I could even figure out what was happening, his lips were on mine, warm, tender, and slow. He kissed me, lending me something from himself, something that I couldn't quite describe-something like support, something like courage, something like comfort.

He was slowly filling my emptiness, filling my loneliness, filling everything until for the first time in my life, I felt my head rise above water.

He wasn't letting me drown.

It was almost agonizing when he drew back. I felt my breath leave my body, as if he'd taken it with him. I felt a rush of unfamiliar emotions, the kind of emotions you don't get to feel when you grow up isolated and unwanted. I thought about all the times I'd been pushed around, all the times I'd been yelled at and told I was worthlessand I remember how I overcame all that by hardening, withdrawing, becoming cold and ruthless and miserable, so miserable.

"Do it again," I whispered, feeling my eyes water.

He was watching me too closely, his gaze soft, like he was finally figuring out how to read me. He was quiet, subdued, almost like he understood, like he'd seen that I was struggling, hiding my pain...drowning. But I didn't find pity in his eyes. Only kindness.

Everything wonderful and terrible drained from my body when he kissed me this time, numbing my mind, dissolving the venom on my tongue, taking away the toxicity, filling me with yearning, with longing, with hope. I opened my mouth for him and he wasted no time, sliding his tongue along mine, tasting the alcohol, tasting the burn. There was no composure, no holding back, no control. I gave into him, surrendering.

He wasn't shy. He wasn't even the type to ask permission. He undid the two buttons of my blazer and slipped his warm hands inside, rubbing my sheer blouse over my skin, running along my hips, traveling to my back, rubbing soft, soothing circles, easing all my aches. I leaned into his touch, arching my back, whimpering because it felt good, so good.

The sounds of plates sliding against wood interrupted us. Joon didn't even turn his head, his eyes fixated on me as I gave the waitress a sheepish smile. I wasn't embarrassed for myself, I was embarrassed for her. I don't even know what kind of courage it took her to put those plates on our table. I knew we had to have made things very awkward for her.

Yeah, big tip. Definitely a big tip.

"Is there anything else I can get for you guys? Another round? Soft drinks? Water?"

"Water," I said. "Water is fine."

I didn't even know how I was going to eat my dinner. I'd been starving when I got here, but now I could barely feel anything but Joon, his hands on my back, his warmth still tingling on my lips.

"You're rude," I told him in mild amusement.

"So I'll leave her a big tip," he said, his voice hoarse. "I'm too busy right now."

"Are you?"

"Yeah."

"What are you busy with?"

"Looking at you."

God, I actually blushed. When was the last time that had happened?

"You haven't eaten in fifteen hours," I pointed out. "You must be starving."

"I am, but I don't really want food right now."

"Stop it, Joon," I laughed.

He grinned, his eyes lightening.

"We can continue this after dinner." I suspected it was the only way I was going to be able to get him to eat.

"Your place or mine?"

"Don't push your luck."

"Worth a try."

I rolled my eyes and reached for my plate. Yep, the hunger was back in full force now. The food looked so fucking good.

"Hold on, don't eat that yet," Joon said, pulling my plate towards him. He gave no explanation whatsoever, just began cutting up my steak into small, bite-sized pieces. His hands were impossibly steady, his movements sure, each cut of the knife confident, like he'd already decided exactly how he was going to do this. I could almost see what this guy would look like with a scalpel in his hand. Beyond all the shit he'd probably had to do to become a doctor, he was also expected to master a skill. He made it look easy, but I knew it took a really special kind of person to be able to do what he does. Surgeons definitely earned the right to be full of themselvesand that's what was really throwing me off; he was clearly gifted but he acted like he had no right at all.

"What are you doing?" I finally asked. I knew my eyes were probably glazed over from watching him work magic with a basic steak knife.

"It helps with digestion."

"What does?"

"Smaller bites."

"I couldn't have done it myself?"

"I don't trust you. The day we met you told me that you engorged yourself with food. I don't want you getting a stomach ache."

"How the hell do you even remember that?"

"Do I really need to answer that question?"

"You're a psycho. No one should be allowed to have that good of a memory."

"Doctors should."

"When did you know you wanted to become one?" I asked, feeling curious. Something had shifted in me, something that was pushing me in his direction, telling me to do this, telling me to go for it, to give in.

"When did you know you wanted to work in insurance?"

"I don't see how that's related."

"I have a theory. Answer the question."

"I don't know. It's just where my life led me. I didn't even know I'd be good at it."

"Knew it. Me too."

"I don't believe that."

"No, I'm serious. I was homeschooled up until I graduated at fifteen. I didn't really know what to do with my life so I took a year off to fuck around. I ended up taking some random quiz on the internet to find my ideal career as a joke one day and it told me I'd make a good doctor. I thought about it for a while and then I majored in pre-med the following fall. I realized later that I had the steady hands to make a good surgeon too. It's just where my life led me, exactly like you."

I laughed.

"A quiz from the internet? That's why you became a doctor?"

"Yup."

"You're joking."

"I'm really not. That's how I've always been. I just do whatever feels right."

"Why pediatric surgery though?"

"I feel like I'm making more of a difference. And I like kids."

The waitress brought us our waters and this time Joon thanked her and shot her such a dazzling smile that she walked away blushing. I almost wanted to roll my eyes. He definitely knew he was attractive.

"I'm surprised you're not already married," I said, forking one of my pieces of steak. The fact that it was a perfect square was so bizarre.

"Why do you say that?"

"You're a surgeon. You like kids. You're good-looking. I'm not going to keep going because you already know what I'm talking about."

"I just didn't have the time to date. That's the honest truth."

"And you do now?"

"Not really, but I'll make the time."

"Why go through all this trouble if your life is so hectic?"

"Because I like you, mean avocado lady from the farmer's market."

"I still don't get why."

"Because you're mean to me."

"That's not a reason."

"It is. You treat me like I'm human."

"You are human, Joon."

"Only to you."

It was like the pieces were all beginning to fall together, like I was slowly beginning to make out who he was. This pushy, overbearing guy was just like me. He was lonely.

"Well, fuck everyone," I found myself saying. "You're a person, not a medical degree."

"And this is why I made the time, mean avocado lady."

"Shut up."

He grinned...ugh. It made my heart stop. I couldn't remember why I'd been fighting him so hard. He'd shown his interest over and over again. Why hadn't I believed him? I was a confident person, but for whatever reason I'd convinced myself that a guy like him couldn't possibly want me. It was insulting. I'd insulted myself.

"You gonna break my heart, Dion?"

"Keep calling me that and I will."

"At least I have a whole promised third date to convince you otherwise. Speaking of which, when are you free?"

"When are you free? I'm a manager. I don't answer to anyone regarding my schedule."

"Let me think, hold on," Joon said. His thinking face was actually pretty cute.

"Tomorrow I'm relieving the on-call team after evening rounds and taking over so that, let's see... should get me off by Friday night. I'll have most of Saturday off so does that work for you?"

"I can figure it out. But won't you be tired?"

"I can figure it out," he said with a grin.

"Shut up and eat your dinner."

"Yes, ma'am."

Our elbows touched while we ate. We kept glancing at each other, talking in between bites about everything and nothing, learning the little things slowly, leaving the bigger things for another time. I still gave him a lot of shit and picked on him, but a part of me had also softened. I tried to look past the innocent feigned arrogance, and it was surprising how close his real personality was to the surface. He was a total fucking goofball.

Joon made me laugh so much that I almost cried, just medical jokes that each sounded stupider than the last.

"Okay, okay. Last one," he said, smiling as I took a sip of water to clear my throat after his last joke. My cheeks were actually hurting from smiling and laughing too hard. I don't think that's ever even happened to me before.

"What STD are you in danger of catching from phone sex?"

I rolled my eyes. This was going to be dumb.

"Hearing AIDS. Get it?"

"These are terrible," I said, but I was fucking laughing anyways because 'terrible' was apparently keyword for 'hilarious' these days.

"You look so beautiful when you laugh. I can't help it."

I almost choked on my water.

"You don't have to do that."

"Do what?"

"Call me beautiful."

He made a face.

"What the hell? Why not? You are."

"Joon," I said, giving him a serious look. "You really don't have to."

"You don't think you are," he said slowly. "That's stupid."

"You're stupid."

"You are," he said. "Unbelievable. Why the hell wouldn't you think you're beautiful?"

"Oh come on," I said. "I'm really plain. I don't care. I don't want to be known for something as superficial as my looks."

"I get that," he said. "But you're still beautiful. I haven't been able to take my eyes off you. Doesn't that tell you anything?"

"It tells me that you're not shallow."

"I don't know how you convinced yourself that you're 'plain'. You're probably just so isolated that you never hear it."

I didn't say anything. I was isolated but that didn't make his words true. I'd heard people compliment my looks before.

"If that's not it then what is it?" he asked, reading my expression.

"Joon."

"I'm going to tell you everyday."

"Stop it."

"No."

"It makes me uncomfortable."

"Why? Because you're not used to it? Well, tough shit."

It made me uncomfortable because I was plain and I actually went out of my way to make sure that I remained this way. I'm not ugly, but I've never been interested in making myself out to be more than I was. I didn't want to be beautiful. I didn't want the attention. I didn't want to be known for how I looked. I wanted to be known for who I was. I thought Joon would've understood that. He wanted to be known as himself, not a surgeon.

Joon put down his fork and knife and turned to face me.

"Listen to me," he said. "You're allowed to be multidimensional. Being beautiful doesn't take away from who you are."

"Joon-"

"You really don't want to see what I'm like when I'm angry. Don't ever say that again."

He brooded for a while and I let him. I didn't expect him to understand. Most people didn't. I grew up being sexually harassed by the people I should have been able to trust. Being plain was my shield. It was my protection. I didn't like anyone taking that away from me.

"So," I said after the waitress had cleared our plates. "You gonna act like a baby for the rest of the night?"

"I'll stop if you give me permission to call you beautiful."

"What does permission have to do with it? You're practically shoving it down my throat already."

"Because you don't like to hear it. I'm not going to make you tell me why. That's your business to share if and when you want to. I need permission because I want to make sure I'm not hurting you by telling you something that's supposed to make you feel good."

"It doesn't make me feel good, Joon."

"Let me try."

"Try what?"

"To show you that it's okay to be beautiful."

"So pushy," I muttered.

"Give me the green light, Celine."

"Fine. But don't go overboard. I don't want you making me out to be better than I am. Just remember how it feels when people write you off as a surgeon."

"I know. I won't forget," he said. "Anyways, let's change the subject before you bite my head off. What do you want to do Saturday?"

"I honestly think you'll be too tired. Don't downplay that. Thirty hours. Fucking hell."

"Is this your way of asking to come over to my apartment and keeping me company?"

"What the fuck, Joon. How the hell did you even come to that conclusion from what I just said? No."

"Well, you should."

"That's way too fast."

"What'd I tell you the other day, Celie? Fast is our speed."

"Don't call me that."

"We don't have to do what you're thinking," he said.

"I don't trust you. You're pushy."

"The odds of me harming you are zero to none. I thought you would know that by now."

"I'm not saying you'd hurt me, jeez."

"Oh," he said with a grin. "You don't think you'll be able to resist me."

"You really are full of yourself."

"Come over anyways."

"No."

"Come on."

"No."

"I'll get avocados. As many as you want."

I tried not to smile, but I'm pretty sure I didn't succeed.

"You think I can be tempted over to your apartment with avocados?"

"I'm about to find out."

"You really are going to be tired," I said thoughtfully.

"Go on."

"So I'll see you some other time."

He let out a frustrated groan.

"Your suggestion better be good. You shot down my idea so it's up to you now to think of something better than a quiet relaxing day in my apartment. I just wanted to hang out. Cook for you, watch movies, talk. I don't know."

Well, fuck. Why hadn't he put it that way in the first place? I might not have shot it down. He'd suggested it like a creep.

Joon was smirking. Little bastard knew every thought that was going through my head.

"Knock that look off your face before I do."

"Kiss me. It'll knock it right off."

"Ugh."

At that moment the waitress appeared with the bill. Joon and I both reached for it.

"Don't," Joon said, snatching it off the table.

"Why do you always insist on doing this? It's sexist."

"Relax, Susan B. Anthony. It's not a matter of money."

"What's it a matter of?"

"It's a matter of shut the hell up."

I laughed even though I didn't want to.

"We could go dutch."

"Or we could go have sex. There's so much we could go do."

"Joon."

"I'm kidding. I've got this. Don't worry about it. You already got me an avocado and a coffee."

"Right, because this is so comparable."

"It is to me," he said, sliding his credit card in the pocket of the waiter wallet.

The waitress looked amused. She'd been waiting to pick up the check, watching us fighting like a couple of teenagers. Joon really turned up the charm, thanking her, smiling that stupid Hollywood smile, praising her for taking such good care of us. The poor girl didn't stand a chance. He turned her legs to jelly.

"Stop it," I hissed when she walked away.

"Stop what?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

"Oh, that? Why, you jealous?"

"I don't get jealous. I just meant stop teasing women. It's cruel."

"You seem to like it when I do it to you."

"I hate you."

Stubborn. This guy was so fucking stubborn. And weird. And pushy. And overbearing.

And yet I was starting to like all those things about him. God help me.

"So, what's the plan tonight?" he asked, putting an arm around my waist. "Your place or mine?"

"Go to hell."

He let out a deep chuckle, and god...why did that make my entire stomach flop? This was my body's way of telling my brain to fuck off and accept what was happening. Joon had pulled me out of the water with a fucking kiss. A kiss. What else was he capable of?

Joon did end up leaving that waitress a generous tip. So generous that she ran out of the restaurant to thank Joon and almost cried. I'd never seen anything like that before. I always left at least twenty percent and I'd never gotten a reaction like that. I couldn't imagine what kind of tip he'd left her, but it had to have been a lot. You could usually tell a lot about a person by how they treat their servers. What Joon had done said a lot about him. He was annoying and arrogant and pushy, but he was also a good person. I'd never doubted knowing that about him, but I'd also never faced it head-on.

"Did you have a nice time?" Joon asked. He reached for my hand and I let him take it.

"No."

"You're breaking my heart, Celine."

I tugged him by the hand down the empty outdoor outlet mall. All the stores were closed with only the neon glow from the AMC movie theater guiding my way. The cold breeze rustled my clothes, making my hair ripple. The only warm thing left was what tethered me to the world: Joon.

We might've looked weird, a doctor in his hospital scrubs and a woman in her business suit, but there was an image of us in my mind and in it, nothing mattered because I was giving in. He was an enigma, and maybe I was one to him, but I wanted to crack him, wanted to know how he worked, wanted to know what made him tick...and I knew he felt the same about me. So yes, I gave in.

We walked together, his skin that golden tan, and mine the color of deep caramel, two hands of two different shades, blending together until I swear I could see the colors bleeding, until there was nothing that was him that wasn't me, and nothing that was me that wasn't him.

"I don't want this to end," I said breathlessly, smiling like I had never before in my entire life.

Joon had a tender look in his eyes, watching me, his hand in mine tightening, his warmth transferring, sending me heat, sending me everything he was feeling as I sent it back. There weren't sparks between us, maybe there had been at first, but these were embers, coming alive as we just drank each other in, holding hands, looking at each other like everything else had become a blur. It was a slow fire, not the kind that could burn you, but the kind you could sit around on a cold winter night until your very heart was snug in the center of your chest.

"Dance with me," he said, pulling me to him. He guided my arms around his neck and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"There's no music."

"So we'll make some," he said. "Close your eyes."

I did.

And then he was humming "My Heart Will Go On" and began to sway with me in the wide open space in front of the movie theater.

"Joon!" I laughed, almost pulling away, but he wouldn't let me. He leaned down and kissed me beneath my jaw, nuzzling his nose into the crook of my neck. I felt shivers go through me, my knees almost buckling.

"I've got you," he said, tightening his hold around my waist. "Let go."

And I did.

The sky was purple, wisps of clouds drifting, the moon a bright sliver in the distance. I had my head tipped back, feeling completely weightless because I'd trusted him, had taken that trust fall, and now I was letting someone hold me up while I looked up at the stars, seeing the world through new eyes, seeing it without any fear, without having to protect myself.

Because he was there.

"You're beautiful," he said softly.

I lifted my head, smiling, my eyes glistening. I was floating, my skin glowing like his, and I let my arms drop, let him support me, let him look down at me with those beautiful dark eyes, the color of the deepest browns of autumn, watching me like nothing else in this entire world existed. The iciness in my chest melted, rushing like water through my veins, but it didn't flood me, it didn't drown me.

Because he was there.

"Kiss me, Joon."

And he did.

Next ->

[dailyadventureprompts]

Encounter: Tossup on the Tollroad

Artsource

Setup: The party are travelling either by themselves or as guards for some caravan, making their way along an old road widely known to have fallen into disrepair thanks to the local lord's mismanagement.

What a surprise then when the party approach an old fortified toll house and discover it garrisoned with troops in the lord's livery, who are now expecting them to pay exorbitant fees for the privilege of crossing into the lord's domain.

The toll collectors are beligerant and one or two even appear drunk. Not paying their toll ads days, maybe weeks to the party's journey, and crossing overland will not only be slow going, but dangerous, as monsters have been known to be creeping back into the region from the wilderness (again, due to the lord's mismanagement).

Challenges & Complications:

Plenty of folks call tollgates "highway robbery" but in this instance it's far more literal. The garrison are infact a group of bandits who have laid their hands on some of his soldier's uniforms, or fashioned crude imitations. The ones interacting with the party have mostly legitimate looking outfits, but those standing back have increasingly flimsy disguises which a perceptive character might notice.

The bandits demand to inspect packs and cargo for "contraband" as a means of seeing whether the party is worth robbing beyond paying their hiked up crossing fee. If one of them finds something good, they make a quick signal to the ones on the battlements which tells them to drop the portcullis after the travellers are through, cutting off their escape before launching their attack.

More than a couple merchants have fallen victim to the ruse already, and the party may notice the their wagons and pack animals tucked away, some of the former showing signs of struggle. The contents of these wagons are sitting inside the fortress waiting to be fenced, meaning a party that defeats the bandits may have stumbled into a small fortune of trade goods, as well as mementos, messages in need of delivery. My advice is to cram this treasure-drop full of quest hooks.

Selling the goods may get the party accused of banditry themselves, turning a potential payday into a brush with the law.

[emmetb]

I have found the thing which made younger me straight, Van Karma from the "Phoenix Wright The Musical Supercut" by random encounters

I was recently rewatching my child hood and god damn I forgot how hot she was

Probably the reason I like my woman dominate because of her and that whip

[cookie-0wo]

Markiplier ego nation. How are we feeling about these ones?

one is filled with joy and whimsy while another is a grouch