Maybe it’s true (I’m caught up on you) - 3/?
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Thursday afternoon sees Baekri and Junghwa step in front of the hotel where the older girl’s prize awaits her and that will take place in 45 minutes.
(Not without difficulties did Junghwa manage to talk her friend out of taking the morning train--they live on the outskirts of the capital, for goodness sake, not some isolated village in the middle of the mountains. Bless high speed trains and subway.)
Only 45 minutes before Baekri’s dream will come true: she’s pumped, she’s dressed prettily, she’s confident!
...She’s a nervous mess. Baekri keeps taking two steps forward and five backwards, wringing alternatively the innocent hem of her flowery dress, the rolled up sleeves of her white shirt, or the strap of her bag. When that isn’t enough, she grabs Junghwa’s arm and shakes it, jumping on the spot and squealing a bit pitifully, to be honest.
With a long suffering eye roll, Junghwa checks her phone, shocked to discover 15 minutes of this dance have already passed. Not wanting to be scrutinized by the passersby for another half hour thanks to her uncharacteristically anxious friend, she pulls a spluttering Baekri (“I’m not ready yet!”) to the hotel entrance and past the revolving doors--
They stop dead in their tracks, slack-jawed in front of the luxury of the lobby alone, bright and spacious, with expensive and polished materials of the floors and furniture. Shock therapy must work on Baekri, at least, because she suddenly snaps out of her nervousness and stalks confidently towards the front desk to ask for directions.
She’s taking out of her bag the instructions she printed, when an elevator dings in the lobby and someone steps in. Baekri rushes forward, throwing a “Come on, Junghwa!” over her shoulder and narrowly entering the car, doors sliding silently behind her.
“AH! No, wait! That one is for--” Junghwa calls out when she notices her friend running towards an elevator labeled ‘private’, but she was too slow, the doors closing on her face. The last thing she sees is a tall guy looking surprised and amused at her idiotic friend; she sighs and flops on the (‘damn, so comfortable, light years from my own!’) couch situated opposite the front desk, and waits.
Inside the elevator, Baekri looks confused at the spot where her friend’s face once was and blinks. She throws a bashful and awkward “elevator smile” at the other passenger when she feels him staring at her, but she quickly looks down at the sheet of paper in her hand to read what floor she’s supposed to go to and presses the button accordingly.
A nondescript jingle fills the elevator. The jitteriness of earlier reappears like a punch to Baekri’s stomach, intensified by the awkward silence in that confined space. She finds herself transfixed on the control panel, looking at each button lighting up excruciatingly slowly, yet they’re getting inexorably closer and closer to her favorite girl group in the whole universe.
Once the number 11 lights up, Baekri steps in front of the doors, already half bent to throw a quick farewell bow to her silent companion before heading to the room where her idols are waiting for her, but...the elevator doesn’t stop.
As if a switch was flipped, the young man starts laughing really loudly, even slapping his own knees and clapping. Baekri gapes at him, mildly disconcerted by such a lunatic behavior coming from someone dressed to the nines and able to afford his stay in this luxurious place; bemused, she twists towards the control panel and starts pressing insistently the button to her destination, but it’s no use.
“What the fuck?!” she shrieks--the stranger’s manic laugh and squinty eye don’t make her feel exactly at ease. “Are you trying to kidnap me?!”
He was starting to look less red and out of breath when Baekri’s question causes what can only be described as a meltdown, from the drawn out gasps to the amused tears and suddenly weak legs, making him unable to grace the girl of an answer.
“Stop laughing!” She stomps her foot petulantly. “I’ll let you know that I may be small, but I can defend myself! I know hapkido!” she threatens, her hands balled in fists at her sides and body unconsciously starting to take a defensive stance, looking dead in the eyes of the nut job she’s confined with.
“Okay…” he finally whispers with a face-splitting grin. Oh, if he’s thinking ‘sure you do, honey’ he’s so gonna get his ass handed back to him…
Baekri is this close to growl in building irritation. Realizing it’s realistically too cramped to pull one of her moves, she rummages through her bag to fish out her secret weapon.
“I have pepper spray!” she announces, promptly pointing the little tube at the (handsome but) stupid face of her kidnapper with an agitated tinkle of her bracelets. “Let me go!”
“Gosh, fine!” he erupts, partly still entertained, partly concerned about the potential turn for the worse this situation is taking. His deep voice honestly startles Baekri, both because it echoes in the car and because it doesn’t quite match his (now that it’s getting back to normal) quite good-looking face.
He’s about to press the stop button when the elevator dings: they’ve been so busy freaking out (Baekri) and dying laughing (still unnamed guy) that they didn’t notice they reached the penthouse. The doors open into a modern open space, with floor-to-ceiling windows, fancy furniture and electronics, and even a bar, before the young man punches the lobby button a bit too hard.
“You’re stuck with me for another while. I don’t know if you noticed, but this elevator has no intermediate stops,” he taunts, wearing again the mask of chic, young businessman he had when they first met (like, five minutes ago). He leans against the corner diametrically opposite to the one Baekri is standing at, admiring how pretty she looks in her not-summer-anymore-but-not-quite-fall-yet outfit, wavy bob and killer eyeliner. Even when she glares at him as if he were a chewing gum stretching between her shoe and the asphalt.
Baekri throws her hands in the air in exasperation, turning her back to the annoying prick and crossing her arms resolutely. Unbeknownst to him, the brunette girl is biting her lips, trying really hard to stay mad and not be affected by the rumbly voice of an admittedly good looking man. Handsome, a voice to melt for, and also rich? He can’t have everything, it’s not fair.
(Oh, right, he’s an asshole and a weirdo, so she has that going for her: she can resist!)
Baekri keeps staring in front of her, stubbornly avoiding the reflection of her companion on the shiny surface of the elevator doors. No matter how much he wants to chat her up now, she won’t fall for his baits.
“You’re really something...You also must live under a rock…” he chuckles, sliding a bit further down his corner and showing off his long legs and tailored suit, twirling his sunglasses idly.
Dafuq he just said? Also, who does he think he is, being all ~inviting~ like that? Calm down, Ri, just ignore him.
“What brings you here?” the young man asks when she looks again at the pamphlet in her hand and presumably checks the time on her phone.
Baekri bites back a ‘none of your business’. That would defeat all her efforts to not address him.
“You’re so cute. And funny, too,” he compliments, sounding quite sincere all things considered.
“I know. I am,” she confirms confidently. Welp, there it goes her resolution to not feed the troll. He must’ve sensed that’s what she has been trying to do all along, so he sensibly muffles his laugh.
After a few beats of silence, Baekri turns just her head to look at the irritating fella from the corner of the eye and hisses, “You could’ve told me it was the VIP elevator.” After another consideration, she adds, “You could’ve hopped off, you were home. There was no need to escort me down, I knew the way~”
“And miss all this?” he rebuts cheekily.
“You are so---ugh!” she groans, at her wit’s end by now. She’s looking forward to hear the ding to the lobby, that’s going to happen right...about...now.
Baekri flees the elevator and hurries to the front desk, where she hopes assumes Junghwa is still waiting for her.
Yep, there she is, sitting with her arms crossed and huffing when she glances up at the clock. She turns when she hears stomping coming her way and jumps on her feet when Baekri finally reappears.
“About time! Security reprimanded me for yelling, damn you. Now hurry, you have less than ten minutes to--mmph!” Junghwa snaps, only to be muffled by Baekri’s hand and dragged towards the right elevator, this time, under the alarmed stare of the desk clerk and the entertained...and...affectionate?...gaze of the same tall guy of earlier.
Baekri taps her foot impatiently while they wait for any of the four elevators she called to finally arrive, her hand still clamped on a growingly frustrated (and embarrassed) Junghwa. The richfuck, tycoon, whoever the hell he is, still lingers around with an ever present smile, humming a song and looking away every time the black haired girl turns to look at him with curious eyes. As expected, the brunette ignores him; during their elevator ride, he learned she’s a stubborn and feisty one.
The elevator to their left finally pings and the girls scurry inside. Baekri smirks satisfied when she presses the button to the 11th floor and the doors start sliding shut on the playful, attractive, now slightly crestfallen face of her alleged abductor.
“Wait! I didn’t catch your name!” he calls out, taking a single long step towards the elevator but without trying to stop it.
“Try with a butterfly net, next time!” she mocks with a saccharine smile, her head cocked coquettishly.
His eyes turn just the tiniest bit bigger and sparklier. “Will there be a next time, then?”
Fuck. “No!”
“My name is Chanyeol, by the way!” he manages to introduce himself (about time) just a split second before the doors close and officially end their banter.
“Good for you!” Baekri hollers back, mumbling something unintelligible about assholes, unfairness, and panty-dropping voices.
The elevator is once again quiet, with the two girls still wrapped together awkwardly, but their peace is short lived. Baekri can feel Junghwa’s lips quirk beneath her hand, and it’s never a good sign.
“Baekri~~”
Hell no, she knows that tone (even muffled like that). The brunette lets go of Junghwa abruptly and looks anywhere but at the evil glint in her friend’s eyes and at her smug, kittenish grin, willing her cheeks to stop blushing so damn brightly. She’s spared a mischievous comment by the elevator stopping at the requested floor and she all but flings herself outside, walking towards the familiar face of Girls’ Generation’s manager and greeting everybody with a deep bow. Baekri is ushered inside one of the hotel rooms to the stage-whispered, encouraging words of Junghwa, who’s not allowed to enter and who’ll wait for her friend in the lounge downstairs.
Not like Baekri heard a single word her best friend said. Not with eight angels gracing a peasant like Baekri with their presence and smiling sweetly at her from the hotel room arranged for the occasion, with pastries and (you guessed it) tea on the table.
(And yet, a persistent thought about a tall, attractive, and unpredictable man made its rounds through her mind for the whole duration of her long awaited and desired date with Girls’ Generation.)
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