Page 13 of Hamartia

The bandage the barista had pulled from a pristine first aid kit behind the counter is on my lap, the bleeding having stopped, but I’m still holding the ice pack to my nose. An ice pack that’s melting quickly due to how hot my body feels.

He finishes his call and looks over at me, eyes still wide and worried behind his tinted glasses.

“Have I messed up your schedule?” I ask.

He smiles a little, but his eyes are still concerned. “No, do not worry. I was just calling my lawyer.”

I laugh at that, and he smiles wider.

“I am so sorry,” he says, eyes serious again.

“I told you. It wasn’t your fault, man. I’m just clumsy as shit, honestly. And not in a cute, adorable way, in a really fucking chaotic way.”

The smile he gives me makes my stomach flip like crazy and then he’s frowning again.

“I really hope it is not broken.”

He leans in a little and the scent of his cologne floods up my battered nose. Sweet and spicy. Like Christmas. Maybe mulled wine. Cinnamon and apples and fuck, my mouth waters. Up close his skin is dewy and smooth but not as flawless as his pictures make it appear, slight imperfections across the skin which only make him more attractive in fact. More real. His lips though, theyareas perfect as they look in pictures: full and pink and wet. My cock stirs a little, so very interested in what my brain can’t help thinking about in relation to them. He lets out a sigh and sits back.

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone had broken my nose, so don’t worry about it.”

“You’ve had it broken many times?”

“Once or twice. People tend not to like me off the bat, you know, and they wanna make sure I know it.”

It’s an attempt at a joke but he doesn’t smile. He frowns a little.

“So, you are used to making a bad first impression on people?” he says and my head snaps up, shame crawling up my spine, prickling over my scalp.

“Fuck, I was really hoping you didn’t remember that…”

He blinks, slow and careful. “Remember what?”

I thought he meant I made a bad impression on him. He doesn’t mean that? He doesn’t remember?

Fucking hell, I feel like singing. Except now he’s looking at me all wide-eyed and expectant and so I have to tell him something. I owe him a fucking apology. Cause even if he didn’t hear it, we still fucking said it.Istill laughed at it.

There’s this calm, cool look on his face as he waits for me to explain.

“Well, it’s just that, we’ve met before. Once,” I glance down at the bloodied bandage, ass clenched tight.

“We have?”

I nod, fiddling with the thread on the cut knee of my jeans.

“Not properly, but we were in the same room once. I um, well it wasn’t cool. I wasn’t cool. I said some shit I shouldn’t have said.” I chance a look up at his face to find it utterly blank. Expressionless. “I was a dick, and well, I’ve thought a lot about it. Wanted to apologize to you about it.” I give a pathetic half-shrug thing while I wait for him to respond.

Jaehyun says absolutely nothing. Just stares at me, eyes wide. Long legs stretched out, shoulders back, head high.

“I am sorry, I don’t remember,” he says finally.

“Honestly, I’m sort of relieved you don’t.”

“Because you weren’t cool.” It’s not a question. Dark eyes bore into mine.

“Because I wasn’t cool.”

His gaze lingers on me a moment and then he glances down at his phone. I expect him to ask more about why I wasn’t cool, but he doesn’t. He shifts slightly, the sound of his leather jacket squeaking loudly against the leather of the car seat.