"YAHHH!!" I screeched like a banshee possessed by three divorces and a lifetime of unpaid taxes, sprinting after Mr. Jeon as if he had stolen not just my dignity, but also my favorite bra.
"You know what you're doing, don't you?!?" I accused, pointing at him like a traffic cop who just caught a cow driving a Ferrari.
He didn't even flinch. Oh no, this man had the audacity—the pure evil villain audacity—to smirk. Slowly. With teeth. And then—oh god help me—he licked his upper lip. Smoothly. Casually. As if he'd just stepped straight out of a Calvin Klein ad titled 'How to Ruin Mira's Ovaries in 3 Seconds or Less'.
GOSH. My stomach did a full Olympic gymnastics routine right then and there.
Why is his tongue so—
WAIT. No. Get. A. Grip. Mira.
Why am I acting like a middle-aged pervert auntie at a K-pop fan meeting?!
I slapped my own cheek mentally. Focus!!
