Min-jung's hand trembled as she fumbled with her apartment key, her other hand pressing against her forehead like she could physically push away the pounding migraine that'd been drilling into her skull for the past three hours.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
The metal key scraped against the lock twice before finally sliding in. Her vision was blurry—partially from exhaustion, partially from the gaming zone's fluorescent lights that'd been burning her retinas all goddamn night.
She'd stayed there. On purpose. Playing stupid mobile games and watching other people stream League until her phone battery died twice and the clerk started giving her concerned looks.
Because going home meant dealing with... 'that'.
The memory made her stomach clench. That dream—no, that 'thing'—where some impossibly hot guy with a body like a Greek god had buried his face between her legs and made her scream so loud her throat still felt raw.
Had to be a dream. Had to be.
