The late afternoon sun spilled through the blinds of Jun and Nicole’s shared apartment, casting lazy stripes across the living room. Jun sprawled on the couch, one arm flung over the backrest, his gaze unfocused as Nicole’s voice buzzed like a persistent bee in the background. She was pacing near the coffee table, a half-packed suitcase open on the floor, rattling off a checklist for their upcoming trip to Hong Kong.
“—and don’t forget, we’ve got that meeting the second we land, so I’m packing my good blazer. Jun, are you even listening?” Nicole stopped mid-stride, hands on her hips, her dark eyes narrowing at him.
Jun blinked, dragging himself back to the present. “Huh? Yeah, blazer. Got it.” His mind, though, was elsewhere—on Angeline. That woman’s stern, no-nonsense face haunted him, her sharp cheekbones and those thick, powerful thighs he’d been obsessing over for years. He shifted on the couch, trying to shake the image of her striding into a room, commanding attention without even trying.
Nicole scoffed, tossing a pair of socks into the suitcase. “You’re a useless lump, you know that? I swear, if I don’t drag you along, you’d just sit there fantasizing about god-knows-what. Get up and help me pack, or I’ll leave you behind.”
Jun smirked, hauling himself off the couch with exaggerated effort. “Fine, fine, your majesty. But don’t blame me if I pack your granny panties by mistake.”
Nicole swatted at him, laughing. “Keep dreaming, pervert. Now fold those shirts before I make you iron them.”
As he grudgingly folded a stack of Nicole’s tops, Jun’s thoughts wandered back to Angeline. What would *she* pack for a trip like this? Probably something prim and proper—starched blouses and tailored skirts. But maybe, just maybe, there’d be a hidden surprise. A lacy little something tucked away in her suitcase? The thought made him grin to himself, his fingers fumbling with a sleeve.
“You’re smirking like an idiot,” Nicole said, arching a brow as she zipped up a toiletry bag. “What’s so funny about folding shirts?”
“Nothing,” Jun muttered, clearing his throat. “Just... thinking about the trip.”
---
An hour later, they were in Nicole’s beat-up sedan, pulling up to Angeline’s house. Jun’s pulse quickened as he spotted her front door swing open. There she was, striding out like she owned the damn street, her tailored blazer and pencil skirt clinging to every curve. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and her expression was all business, but those thighs—God help him—were a distraction he couldn’t ignore.
Nicole leaned out the window, waving. “Hey, Angie! Ready to roll?”
Angeline gave a curt nod, her heels clicking on the pavement as she approached with two sleek suitcases. Her gaze flicked to Jun, who was still in the backseat, and her lips pressed into a thin line. “Don’t just stand there gawking, boy. Load my luggage. Now.”
Jun scrambled out of the car, nearly tripping over his own feet. “Y-Yes, ma’am,” he stammered, grabbing her bags with clumsy haste. Her voice, sharp as a whip, sent a shiver down his spine. He could feel her eyes on him, judging every awkward move, and it only made his nerves worse.
“Pathetic,” Angeline muttered under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear as she slid into the front passenger seat.
Nicole snorted, climbing back into the driver’s side. “Be nice, Angie. He’s trying.”
“Barely,” Angeline shot back, adjusting her skirt with precise, deliberate movements.
In the backseat, Jun slumped down, wiping sweat from his brow. As Nicole pulled away from the curb, she launched into an excited monologue about Hong Kong—dim sum, skyscrapers, the works. Jun barely heard her. His eyes kept drifting to the rearview mirror, catching glimpses of Angeline’s rigid posture, her crossed legs, and the way her skirt rode up just enough to torment him. He shifted uncomfortably, praying Nicole wouldn’t notice his distraction.
---
At the airport, Angeline took charge like a general leading troops into battle. She marched ahead, her heels clicking on the polished floor, barking orders without looking back. “Keep up, Jun, or I’ll leave you behind, dimwit.”
Jun lagged a few steps behind, not entirely by accident. His gaze dropped to her backside, the sway of her hips in that tight skirt sending a guilty rush through him. He bit his lip, torn between shame and thrill.
Nicole elbowed him, her voice a teasing whisper. “What, got a crush on the airport security now? You’re dragging like a lost puppy.”
Jun’s face burned. “Shut up,” he hissed, shoving his hands into his pockets. If only she knew. It was far worse than a random crush.
During check-in, Angeline’s stern demeanor turned heads. She snapped at the counter agent over some minor delay, her voice cutting through the hum of the terminal. “I don’t have time for incompetence. Fix it. Now.” The poor guy behind the counter nearly dropped his scanner under the weight of her glare.
Jun watched, mesmerized. What was beneath that icy exterior? His mind spiraled into dangerous territory—images of her shedding that blazer, that skirt, revealing something raw and untamed. He shook his head, trying to focus, but the fantasy clung like smoke.
---
When they boarded the plane, a seating mix-up landed Jun right next to Angeline. His heart thudded as he slid into the seat, his knee brushing hers in the cramped space. The contact sent a jolt through him, electric and forbidden.
Angeline’s head snapped toward him, her eyes narrowing to slits. “Keep your clumsy limbs to yourself, Jun,” she hissed, her voice low and venomous.
“S-Sorry,” he mumbled, jerking his leg away. But the ghost of that touch lingered, searing itself into his memory. He stole a sideways glance at her as she opened a thick novel, her brow furrowed in fierce concentration. Those thighs, pressed together just inches from him, were a torture he couldn’t escape.
Across the aisle, Nicole leaned over, smirking. “You look sweaty already, Jun. Nervous flyer, or what?”
He forced a laugh, wiping his palms on his jeans. “Yeah, something like that.”
As the plane taxied down the runway, Jun’s mind raced. Angeline was a fortress—cold, impenetrable—but this trip was his chance. He’d find a crack in her armor, a way to get closer, even if it meant risking her wrath. The thought made his pulse pound harder than the engines roaring beneath them. Hong Kong was just the beginning.
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