Chapter 41
I held the phone in my trembling hands, a mix of apprehension and curiosity swirling within me. What secrets did this video hold? I glanced up at the piano guy, my eyes locking onto his amused gaze. "What's this video about?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
He chuckled, a smirk dancing on his lips. "You'll have to play it to find out."
My heart skipped a beat as I clicked play. The video flickered to life, and my face ignited with embarrassment. Oh no, the video was embarrassing, or was it the one where I'd let my inhibitions slip and played with his hair like it was a toy. My cheeks burned, and I felt like sinking into the floor. I couldn't bear to watch anymore, my eyes darting up to meet his.
"I knew this would happen," he said, his voice laced with amusement, as he gently took the phone from my grasp. "I told one of my friends to record it."
I tried to apologize, to explain away my actions, "When people are drunk, they don't know what they're doing..."
He chuckled, the sound low and husky, as he swept his hair down, the gesture sending a flutter through my chest. I found it oddly attractive.
"There are a lot of things you need to pay for," he said, his eyes sparkling with mirth.
My gaze drifted away, landing on his chest, and I felt a flush rise to my cheeks once more. "At least wear a shirt," I muttered, trying to compose myself, "Don't go around shirtless."
The air in the room thickened, not just with the scent of the expensive cologne the piano guy always wore, but with an unspoken tension. His words, a direct challenge, hung between us. "Are you sure you watched all the videos? Didn't you see, didn't you watch the particular one you threw up on me?" The question was laced with a knowing amusement, a challenge to my carefully constructed composure.
My cheeks burned, a familiar heat that had nothing to do with the room's temperature. "Well, to be honest, I didn't watch it," I confessed, the words a reluctant admission." The truth was that i was so embarrassed, I couldn't even bring myself to watch all the videos.
I shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a semblance of control. "Still," I managed, my voice barely a whisper, "at least try to cover up your chest." The words felt clumsy, a desperate attempt to regain some semblance of control over the situation.
The piano guy's chuckle was low and rumbling, a sound that sent a shiver down my spine. He remained where he was, leaning against the door frame. Then he pushed himself off the door and started walking towards me. He looked at me, he leaned towards me, the space between us shrinking with every passing second. "So, you swear you don't like what you see? You swear you don't want to touch it right now?" he asked, his voice slow, laced with a dangerous smoothness.
My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic rhythm that echoed the turmoil in my mind. "No, Sarah, don't you dare fall in love with any Korean guy again," I muttered silently, the words a desperate plea against the inevitable.
The room seemed to shrink, the air thickening with an unspoken tension. Before I could process the intimacy, a knock at the door shattered the moment. He pulled back,and crossed the room to answer the summons.
I watched, curiosity piqued, as he exchanged hushed words with the unseen visitor. The door creaked shut, and he turned back to me, a neatly folded cloth cradled in his hands. The packaging rustled softly as he unwrapped it, revealing a garment that seemed almost ceremonial in its simplicity. He slipped it on, the fabric whispering against his skin as he adjusted the fit.
I remained frozen, a spectator to this quiet ritual. Our eyes met as he finished dressing, and for a suspended moment, the world narrowed to the space between us.
*
*
As I stood outside the hotel with the piano guy, whose name I had yet to learn, I couldn't shake off the feeling of curiosity that lingered within me. It was only moments ago that I had stumbled upon a piece of information that seemed to shed new light on his persona. His father, it appeared, was the owner of the hotel we were standing in front of.
I recalled the instant I overheard the conversation between him and the receptionist, a foreigner who didn't seem to be Korean, perhaps American. They stood at the reception desk, and the piano guy had leaned in slightly as he spoke. "Keep my coming here a secret," he had said, his voice low and measured.
The receptionist had smiled and nodded in agreement. "I will, sir. I will," she had replied, her words barely above a whisper. I had managed to overhear their conversation, and the piano guy's words had been laced with a sense of caution, leaving me wondering what lay behind his request for secrecy.
As we stood outside the hotel, the sudden screech of tires shattered the stillness, and a taxi materialized before us like a conjuring. Before I could grasp the sequence of events, the piano guy opened the door and pushed me inside,I settled roughly on the seat,I looked at him angrily, he held onto the door, his eyes locking onto mine.
"One more thing," he said, his voice low and smooth. "My name isn't 'piano guy.' You can call me hyun min or Jason – whichever you prefer." He paused "Though I rarely use the latter."
With that, he released the door, and it swung shut with a loud thud..
As I looked up, I saw him walking away, his long strides devouring the distance with an air of quiet purpose. A spark of indignation flared within me, and I leaned out the window, my voice rising in a crescendo of frustration.
"Ah, seems like your brain is under your feet!" I shouted, the words tumbling out in a rush. "As you walk, you're walking all over it!" The taxi driver's eyes flicked towards me, a fleeting glance that held a mixture of curiosity and amusement.
I took a deep breath, attempting to rein in my emotions, and gave him my location. With a nod, he put the car in gear, and we hurtled into the chaotic rhythm of the city streets.