Junjie (Part-1)
"Oh, c'mon!" I groan, diving under the cozy blankets, trying to muffle the blaring music that's shaking the entire building—or at least it feels like it. "Who the hell plays music this early in the morning?"
I glance at the window, still covered by blinds. No idea what time it is, and frankly, I don't want to know. Last night was torture enough, and now she's ruining my morning sleep, too?
It was a mistake giving her the room next to mine. The paper-thin wall between us might as well be nonexistent. I hear everything. Her restless tossing, her loud, exaggerated yawns, and those seven trips to the bathroom. Seven. She's a one-woman tornado and let's not forget the damn door that connects our rooms—the traitorous thing. It's allowing her strawberry-vanilla fragrance to waft over, taunting me.
Why does her scent have to be so intoxicating? Why can't I get it out of my head? It's not even overpowering—just soft, fruity, and calming. But it's driving me crazy.
The distraction kept me awake, and I ended up taking a long, cold shower. That didn't help. I even had to, well, relieve myself to relax. And that just pissed me off more. I'm usually good at keeping my urges in check, but lately, my body's been betraying me. It's infuriating.
I reach for my phone on the nightstand, squinting against the brightness of the screen.
Zian: Suyin and MeiMei are driving me insane with nonstop questions about Yiren. HELP.
Me: It was your idea. Deal with it, dick.
With a frustrated groan, I bury my head under the pillow. I just need a bit more sleep—at least enough to prevent me from dozing off in the office. But of course, Bear has other plans. He jumps on the bed, tugging the blanket off like it's his mission in life.
"Great," I mutter. Now I'm wide awake and even grumpier than before. Bless my employees today. They're in for a treat.
Bear bounces off to the living room, and I drag myself out of bed, brushing my teeth while still half-asleep. The smell of coffee and... Spanish omelet? Okay, that perks me up a little.
I follow the scent into the kitchen. And there she is—Yiren. Dancing to the beat of her obnoxiously loud music, wearing a familiar t-shirt that's more holes than fabric, swaying her hips without a care in the world. The shirt barely reaches mid-thigh, and her long toned legs are hard to ignore.
Bear barks, and she spins around with a grin that's far too cheerful for this time of day. "Morning, Juju!"
I raise an eyebrow. "Don't start." I grumble, trying not to look at her any longer than necessary. It's too early for this, and I definitely shouldn't notice she's not wearing a bra. Again.
Kill me. I notice it.
"Not a morning person, I see." She skips over, and before I can protest, she places a steaming cup of coffee in front of me, followed by a plate of Spanish omelet and multigrain toast like she's some kind of chef on a cooking show.
I eye the coffee suspiciously, and she leans forward, resting her face between her palms. "I didn't spit in it, used almond milk, didn't lick the rim of your glass, and there's no poison in the omelet. The bread isn't expired either. It's safe."
I take a sip of the coffee, and it's like my senses wake up all at once. Damn, this is good. I wouldn't mind waking up to this every day. But it's the attention to detail that makes me pause and glance at her. She remembers I'm lactose intolerant and used almond milk, with the perfect amount of sugar.
"Is it good?" she asks.
I'm tempted to tell her this might be the best coffee I've ever had, but instead, I mutter, "It's fine."
"Liar." She smirks, turning back to the stove to flip another omelet, probably for Bear, who's wagging his tail so hard he's practically vibrating.
"Bear, come here, boy," I call out.
He glances at me, barks once, and then turns his back on me, clearly more interested in Yiren's cooking. Or Yiren.
Traitor.
"When's your family arriving?" she asks, her voice casual as she plates Bear's breakfast.
"They won't say. Probably to give me a heart attack," I grumble, eyeing the door like it might burst open any second with Fengs barging in. "But be ready. They're unpredictable."
She bursts out laughing, her whole body shaking with it. "Can't wait to see them kick your ass. I'm so looking forward to that."
"Bring painkillers, because you'll need them for the show."
"No headache could possibly be worse than you," she says with a wink as she sits beside me with her own plate.
Her knee brushes mine, and I feel a small jolt. She's always this casual, always this close, but I can't figure out why it catches me off guard now.
"By the way, thanks for last night," she says, completely out of nowhere.
"Huh?"
"For dinner. And... just, you know, thanks."
I nod, not sure how to respond. It's not like we're close enough for heartfelt thank yous, but something about her tone makes me feel... different.
After breakfast, I stand to clean the dishes, but I can feel her eyes on me the entire time. It's like she's watching, waiting for something. It makes the air between us feel charged, like something unspoken lingers.
"You know," I say, drying off the plates, "staring is the first step to falling in love."
She snorts. "Falling in love? Please. I'm more likely to trip over my own feet."
I chuckle. Classic Yiren. I glance back at her and notice the thick stack of papers she's been carrying around all morning. One slips from the pile, and I pick it up.
"What's this?"
"The pitch for my startup," she says, tapping the stack with a hint of pride.
I arch an eyebrow. "I can read, you know."
She plops back down on that hideous red couch, sighing dramatically. "It's a rough draft. I'm still working on the finance part. They should've taught something useful in art school, like how not to suck at business."
I skim the paper, and... yikes. It's rough, alright. No way any company is giving her money with this. Mine is definitely rejecting her.
She catches my expression and winces, "Is it that bad?"
"If you're aiming to get rejected in the preliminary assessment in record time, it's perfect."
"How dare I expect a tiny shred of decency from you!" She rolls eyes dramatically. "Wait, did you say preliminary assessment? How many people do I have to impress before this even reaches your desk?"
"You think I personally handle all trivial investments? Merger & Acquisitions department deals with that. And they're cutthroat, so prepare yourself."
Her face falters for a moment—just long enough for me to notice—but she recovers quickly, reaching for the paper. I hold it out of her reach.
"Ask your friend for help," I say, remembering she had a finance major friend at Harvard. "That tall cheerleader. What's her name... Vienna?"
She blinks. "Valentina. And no, she's not my friend. I don't have any friends."
I pause, sensing something deeper, and when she reaches for the paper again, I pull it further away. "Fine. I'll have someone from M&A look at it."
"Really? You'll help me?"
I glance at her lips for a second, then force my gaze back up to her eyes. Jun, what the hell are you doing? Say no. Say no. "Yes."
Before I know it, she's throwing herself into my arms, hugging me tight. The scent of strawberries and vanilla completely takes over, and I stand there like an idiot, frozen in place.
She wraps my arms around her slender back, muttering something like "jerk," as if it's my fault.
I clear my throat awkwardly, and she steps back, squinting up at me. "Why are you doing this? Don't tell me you're starting to like me."
"Because I'm insane," I mutter, already heading back to my room. "The day I start liking you is the day pigs start flying."
*****