Tonight, Hyukjoon’s hair was carefully combed back and gelled, and he was wearing a linen shirt with short sleeves and khakis. The Rolex on his left wrist—a blue and gold Submariner—gleamed. Out of curiosity, she had googled the price of it after their first meeting and had nearly gone into shock.
He pulled up to the curb on a quieter street not too far from her building before putting the car into park. The BMW, freshly washed and polished, shined in the dark. On the adjacent sidewalk, a couple walked past, holding hands. Dahye watched them through the window. A vacant metal bench rested directly underthe streetlamp on the opposite side of the street, the light beaming down on it like a halo.
Hyukjoon’s hand slid up her leg. He leaned over, nuzzling her neck, his breath hot against her collarbone. She pushed him away playfully as he reached for the zipper of her skirt.
“We’re in public,” she panted, drawing back.
“It’s dark out. Nobody can see,” he said, voice husky. His lower lip glistened. He reached for her again.
At that exact moment, a mother and her daughter tottered by. The girl’s high, childlike laughter drifted into the car, startling Dahye. On impulse, she pushed Hyukjoon, shoving him back toward his seat.
“Ow!” He rubbed the side of his head. She had knocked him into the rearview mirror. It now sat at an odd angle.
“Oh god. I’m so sorry. It was an accident—” She reached over to touch him. His head was tilted to the side, and his eyes were closed in obvious pain. The girl and her mother, oblivious, disappeared around the corner. They hadn’t even glanced in the direction of the car. Feeling foolish, Dahye adjusted the mirror. “Is that okay?” she asked. He didn’t respond. She adjusted the mirror again, aiming it more squarely toward the back of the car. A note of pleading crept into her voice. “Or this?”
“It’s fine.”
But it was obviously not fine. Hyukjoon had grown quiet, and Dahye could hear her mother’s acerbic tone in her head: “There you go, Dahye, ruining everything again.”
She would fix it. Her fingers crawled up his thigh, to his groin, as he slipped his hand into his pocket for a cigarette. He lit it and took a deep breath as she began to squeeze him gently over his clothing, urging him back to life. Within seconds, he was hard. She unbuttoned his pants and reached into his underwear to stroke him.
+
Dahye dabbed at the sweat on Hyukjoon’s forehead as he let out a long, satisfied sigh. “I love you,” he said. She picked her skirt up from the floor. The windshield was steamy, and as Hyukjoon rolled down the window, cool air rushed into the car.
“Do you?” she teased. “Are you sure you aren’t just impressed with my … performance?” She lifted her eyebrows suggestively, and he smirked.
She stuck her tongue out at him. The awkwardness from earlier had dissipated, and Hyukjoon grabbed her hand and kissed it. She turned to the window, watching as an old man made his way slowly across the street.
A girl was sitting on the bench now, her head bowed. Something about her seemed familiar. Dahye sat up and stared. Light pooled around the girl.
Look up, Dahye thought, concentrating hard.
“What is it?” Hyukjoon asked. Dahye started as he rested his chin on her shoulder.
“I thought I saw …” She stopped. Shook her head. “Someone I knew.”
“On the bench? Who?” He peered curiously out the window. “There’s nobody there.”
Dahye looked again. He was right. The bench was empty. She frowned, confused. “I swear someone was sitting there a second ago.”
“Maybe they left,” Hyukjoon suggested. Then he lowered his voice. “Or maybe it’s a ghost—”
“Stop it,” Dahye said, swatting him. “You’re scaring me.”
“Alright, alright. You really shouldn’t have stayed up so late watching that scary movie. You do this every time.”
Hyukjoon was right. Her dreams had been unsettling lately,filled with unease, and they had spilled over into the daylight. In her office, she was seeing shadows where there were none. “I know. I’ll stop.”
“Come on.” He pinched her cheek. “Let’s go, princess. I’m taking you home so you can get your beauty sleep.”
Hyukjoon started the engine, and it came to her then. The girl on the bench had looked like her sister.
That stupid movie.The image of the two main characters, their white dresses stained with blood, flashed through Dahye’s mind. Even now, with the lingering summer heat closing in around her, the thought of it made goosebumps prickle across her skin. She glanced at the bench again and noticed a patch of wetness spreading across the cement right underneath it.
+
A house could be a home, or it could be hell. Dahye’s insides twisted as she stood outside her building as Hyukjoon drove away. The light in her window was on, which meant her mother was still awake. Dahye leaned against the concrete planter in front of the building’s entrance and wrenched off her heels, setting them carefully on the ground. Christian Louboutin pumps, with their unmistakable red bottoms—Hyukjoon’s favorite.