Page 46 of You Had Me At Annyeong!
Timira keeps walking.
Every dog has their day, kuttiya! Just you wait.
Looking down at her shirt that is refusing to dry and continues to stick to her skin, she mutters under her breath, chiding her chest, ‘You moron!Kara di na beizzati?Have all the fun you can tonight. When we get home, you are going to the back of my closet and staying in the darkness forever!’
Stepping out of the stadium building, Timira decides she wants to sit out the rest of the game. Feeling like a smoke, she skips around trying to look for a smoking zone when she notices Haneul near the parking lot, resting against a wall and blowing out smoke rings. Recalling their little eyes-eyes-baby game in the stands before it was ruined by one of their colleagues, she suddenly feels giddy at the thought of seemingly having the opportunity to resume it.
Something was wrong with that dream I had the other night. If anyone here can be a gumiho, it is this guy. I mean, just look at him, would you? How is it even humanly possible to be this hot?
Haneul, oblivious of Timira’s lascivious gaze, unbuttons the top of his shirt and pinches his Adam’s apple lightly. Timira gulps loudly and takes a couple of steps forward for a better, closer look. She hadn’t paid much attention before, but he’s dressed a little less formally than usual. He has lost the tie and is wearing skinny pants that reveal a tush only very few are blessed with.
That butt can put JLo to shame, Timira observes.I wonder if it is insured, she wonders with a wicked smile.
She continues to watch him as he stubs the cigarette but doesn’t move. Looking to investigate further, Timira moves closer and positions herself behind a potted plant.
Stealth mode on, Timira tells herself and feels a thrill in her bones.
From behind the plant—more shrub, less plant—she can finally tell that he has been on a call all this while. She can see his lips move vigorously but cannot hear a word. Something about the frown he’s wearing, his manner, the way in which he’s gesturing and moving his hands around tells Timira that the call isn’t a lot of fun. She has half a mind to interrupt him andsave him, and is debating if she should when a woman’s voice pierces the air.
‘Haneul! Haneul-a!’
Distant at first, but getting progressively closer.
Timira has been in a half-squat position for a while and her knees are now starting to wobble. But she is frozen in her spot. All she can do is watch, wide-eyed, as a beautiful girl runs up to Haneul and hugs him from behind.
* * *
Awestruck Timira has been gaping at the beautiful mystery girl for a while now. Long, luscious, light wavy locks with strawberry-blonde balayage highlights frame a small face with a soft but perfectly chiselled jawline. Her skin is flawless and glowing even in the harsh white stadium lights. Her chin is pointy and sharp and she has foxy eyes that look enchanting even without make-up. She’s rocking a pair of low-waist bootcut denims in black with a white shirt tucked into them. In the sky-high heels that she looks to be extremely comfortable in, she’s nearly as tall as Haneul.
Keep your standards high, not your heels, she reminds herself. One time she wore stilettos to a terrace party, and toppled over after two drinks while dancing to Sukbhir’s‘Ishq Tera Tadpave’. She woke up the next morning massively hungover with multiple cuts on her arms—arms that had protected her from worse injury when she fell, pulled muscles in her chest and shoulders—and a limp for the following several weeks. She now wears heels only occasionally. When her confidence alone isn’t enough to make her feel tall. Timira and heels are a match made in hell, she is convinced. Especially after the recent incident when she tripped and fell into Rodrigo’s arms on her first day at the SecondSkin office.
Haneul and the mystery girl have been chatting for what seems like an eternity to Timira. He was quick to disengage himself from the hug, she had observed gleefully, but matters had only gone downhill since. He had gotten off the phone call in no time. She has touched his hair more than once, fixed the lapel of his jacket, and he has shown no sign of displeasure.
Why am I here watching this? What was I expecting? No wonder he paid no attention to me when we met. Oh, Timmy, you fool. This is why Bhaskar says I should stay in my aukaat.This girl is way prettier than I ever will be! No? Should I take a photo and send it to Alice? No, no, no, I’m no stalker! I’m a secret service spy. Mata Hari hoon main. Hari Om Hari!
She slaps her wobbly knees, chiding them to behave, and is preparing to slowly awaken her feet that have been long asleep so she can stand back upright. But sans any warning, her phone rings loudly. Startled, she loses her balance and her legs promptly give way.
‘Seonbae!’ Hanee shrieks as she runs towards Timira who has taken a tumble and revealed herself from behind her sniper spot.
Catching hold of Timira just before her head can hit the ground, Hanee grabs her neck and cradles it. With panic writ large on her face, she stares deep into Timira’s eyes and asks, ‘Seonbae, gwenchana [Senior, are you all right]? Are you hurt?’
Pointing at the pocket of her coat, Timira gestures at Hanee to answer her phone that is still ringing. As though jolted from a dream, the look in Hanee’s eyes goes from alarm to embarrassment.
‘Er, Seonbae, um, sorry. That’s me. I was calling you to see where you were since you were gone for a good while …’
Timira cuts in before she can finish.
‘Get me up. Get me upppppppp! Now!’ she hisses.
Looking sheepish, Hanee, kneeling on the ground, puts an arm around Timira and helps her up.
‘Slowly, Seonbae, slowly.’
Timira wriggles out of Hanee’s arms the minute she’s up. ‘Does your head feel okay?’ Hanee asks, concerned.
‘It does, but what aboutyourhead? Does it feel okay? Why on earth would you call me when I’m in the middle of something so important?’
‘You hadn’t returned even after thirty minutes had passed. You’re new in the country, you don’t know the language, this is your first time outside of Gangnam, I was worried!’
