Chapter 8

It was finally time for lunch.

Jeongyeon was halfway out of her chair when Momo grabbed her, as she shot up out of her chair too. “Wait—hold on, hold on—”

“What—?” Jeongyeon barely got the word out before Momo was already fussing with her.

“Your collar is all messed up,” Momo muttered, tugging at it like this was a life-or-death situation. “And your hair—why is it doing that?”

“My hair is fine,” Jeongyeon said, swatting her hand away, already annoyed. “Why are you acting like this?”

Momo ignored her, reaching up again, trying to smooth something down that did not need smoothing. “You’re about to go meet her, right? At least try to look like you have some sense.”

Jeongyeon blinked at her. Then let out a short laugh. “You’re acting like you’re sending me to prom or something.”

Momo shot her a look. “I’m serious.”

“You’re acting like my mom,” Jeongyeon added, leaning back just out of reach. “Relax.”

“I am relaxed,” Momo snapped immediately, which—was a lie.

Jeongyeon snorted. “Yeah. Clearly.”

Momo huffed, stepping back, arms crossing. “Just—don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

Jeongyeon rolled her eyes. “Here we go.”

“I’m serious,” Momo pushed, already pacing a little now. “Don’t rush it. Don’t be weird. Don’t—go barreling in like a wrecking ball.”

“I don’t do that.”

“You absolutely do that.”

Jeongyeon opened her mouth to argue—then stopped. Because. Okay. Maybe. Momo pointed at her like she’d just proven a case in court. “Exactly. And Nayeon is not like you. She’s sharp. If you mess this up, it’s gonna get messy.”

Jeongyeon groaned. “It’s just lunch.”

“And remember—” Momo continued, talking right over her, “look at Mina and me. We’re taking it slow. We’re figuring things out. You need to do the same.”

Jeongyeon stared at her. “…you’ve known her for, like, a week.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It is absolutely the point.”

Momo ignored that too. “I just don’t want history repeating itself, okay?”

That made Jeongyeon pause for half a second. Then she softened—just a little. “I got it, Momo,” she said, quieter now. “I’ll be careful.”

Momo squinted at her like she didn’t believe a word of that. “…you’re a menace,” she muttered.

Before Jeongyeon could respond—

“Hey!”

Both of them turned. Mr. Lee, their manager stood near their cubicles, already looking irritated for no reason at all. “Do you two ever stop talking?” he snapped. “This is a workplace, not a playground.”

Jeongyeon blinked. Momo didn’t even hesitate. “It’s lunch now,” she shot back immediately. “We’re on break.”

Mr. Lee gave a dry, unimpressed scoff, like that didn’t matter in the slightest. “You’re still representing the company.”

Momo stared at him. “…by getting ready to eat?”

He didn’t answer that. Just shook his head like they were both disappointments and turned away, muttering under his breath as he moved towards the kitchen area.

Silence hit them for a second. Then—

“…I hate him,” Momo whispered.

Jeongyeon leaned in slightly. “I’m praying on his downfall.”

“Every day.”

“He doesn’t even do anything.”

“He literally just walks around and complains.”

“Like what is his job.”

“I hope they fire him.”

“Hopefully soon.”

They both nodded, completely serious. A beat. Then Jeongyeon straightened. “Okay. I’m gonna go before I’m late.”

Momo waved her off lazily. “Yeah, yeah. Go.”

Jeongyeon took a step toward the hallway—then paused, glancing back. “…you’re not coming?”

Momo blinked. “Huh?”

“To get Mina,” Jeongyeon said. “You always go down at the same time.”

Momo hesitated. Just for a second. Then she shrugged, looking away. “I’ll go in a minute.”

Jeongyeon narrowed her eyes. “…you’re stalling.”

“I’m not stalling.”

“Your really stalling.”

“I said I’ll go.”

Jeongyeon tilted her head, watching her for a beat—then her expression shifted, something more amused creeping in. “…is this about that copier room shit you told me about?”

Momo froze. “…what?”

Jeongyeon’s grin widened. “Last week with Mina. The almost kiss?”

“Nothing happened,” Momo said way too quickly.

“That’s my point,” Jeongyeon shot back. “You guys didn’t even kiss and you’re acting like this?”

Momo scoffed, crossing her arms tighter. “There’s just—tension, okay?”

“Tension,” Jeongyeon repeated, like she was tasting the word.

“I don’t know what to expect with her,” Momo muttered, more to herself than anything. “It just feels like something’s gonna—happen.”

Jeongyeon blinked at her. Then—”…you’re acting like you’re about to hook up with her at lunch.”

Momo’s head snapped toward her. “What?!”

“I’m just saying,” Jeongyeon shrugged, fully entertained now. “The way you’re pacing around—”

“I’m not pacing.”

“You were starting to pace.”

Momo groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “If anything, that would be your ass.”

Jeongyeon let out a laugh. “Wow. You think that little of me?”

“I heard you on that phone call,” Momo shot back immediately. “You were talking crazy to that girl.”

Jeongyeon grinned. “She liked it.”

“That’s not the point,” Momo said, exasperated. “You’re reckless. I have no idea what you’re gonna do.”

Jeongyeon shrugged again. “I’m just getting lunch with her.”

Momo stared at her.

“…just lunch,” Jeongyeon added, a little less convincing this time.

Momo pointed at her. “Please. For the love of God—just keep it that way.”

Jeongyeon snorted.

“I’m serious,” Momo pushed, stepping closer now. “Do not do anything stupid.”

“Define stupid.”

Momo looked like she was about to lose her mind. “Anything beyond sitting down and eating food.”

“That’s a pretty low bar.”

“Jeongyeon.”

Jeongyeon held her hands up, laughing. “Okay, okay—relax.”

Momo didn’t relax. “If you fucking mess this up—” she started, then stopped herself, shaking her head. “Just—please don’t make this weird for me too.”

That lands. Just a little. Jeongyeon’s expression softens for half a second. “…I won’t,” she says, quieter. Then immediately ruins it— “But I’m not making any promises.”

“JEONGYEON—”

Jeongyeon laughs, already backing away toward the elevator. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!”

“You’re not kidding!”

“Maybe I’m not!”

Momo groans loudly, dragging her hands down her face. “Oh my god, I hate you.”

“You love me,” Jeongyeon shoots back easily.

“…just go,” Momo mutters.

Jeongyeon grins, turning toward the elevator. A second later, the doors slid open. She stepped inside, turning just slightly as they began to close—Momo was still standing there. Arms crossed. Watching her go.

The doors shut. Jeongyeon let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. And then—She grinned. Because now? Now she was actually going to see Nayeon.

The last thirty minutes replayed in her head like a highlight reel—the teasing, the back-and-forth, the way Nayeon had gotten flustered without even realizing it. God. That had been perfect.

Jeongyeon leaned back against the elevator wall, pulse picking up all over again. Maybe Momo had a point. Maybe she should slow down…..

Yeah. No. Not happening.

Soon enough, she was on the fourth floor and the doors had opened.

Jeongyeon stood there in awe, smoothing her hair back from her face, her mind already half-anticipating Nayeon’s expression. Would she be expecting her? Would she try to play it cool, or would the banter from earlier spill into real-life, face-to-face chaos?

A thrill shot through her. Today’s lunch wasn’t just about food—it was a continuation of that teasing, that pull, that game that Jeongyeon loved more than she wanted to admit. She let herself grin, thinking about Momo’s warnings, Nayeon’s reactions from over the phone, and how deliciously fun it was going to be to see where this little dance led.

Suddenly the woman’s eyes gleam.

Nayeon was already here, striding down the hall toward her. Jeongyeon glanced up, trying to play it cool, and there she was—perfectly composed, just as beautiful as ever, walking straight into the elevator like she owned the place. Jeongyeon couldn’t help but smile, trying to hide it behind a mask of aloofness, but failed miserably.

“Did you miss me?” Jeongyeon teased, leaning slightly against the wall.

Nayeon rolled her eyes and pushed past her, pressing the button for the ground floor. “Please.”

Jeongyeon chuckled, watching her step in, trying not to stare too obviously. Over a week had passed, and Nayeon still had that effect on her—heart skipping, mind racing, and yes… completely flustering her.

“So,” Jeongyeon said as she glanced over Nayeon’s figure, leaning casually against the wall, “any regrets about picking lunch with me?”

Nayeon shot her a side-eye, arms crossed, lips pressed into a straight line. “Regrets? I don’t know… maybe that I’m stuck in an elevator with a stalker.”

Jeongyeon gasped dramatically. “A stalker? Me? That’s harsh, considering I only called you like… an hour ago?”

“Yeah, that’s the thing about stalkers,” Nayeon deadpanned, “they’re efficient.”

Jeongyeon laughed softly—then tilted her head, something a little different slipping into her expression. “…trust me,” she said, almost offhand. “If I were actually stalking you, you’d know.”

There’s a beat. It lands a little heavier than it should. Then she shrugs, like it didn’t mean anything. “This?” she adds, gesturing between them. “This is nothing.”

Nayeon’s brows knit together—just slightly. “…that’s not reassuring,” she mutters.

Jeongyeon grins again, easy, like the moment never shifted. “Relax. You’re safe.”

“Mhm,” Nayeon hums, unconvinced—but she doesn’t press.

Still, something about the way Jeongyeon said it lingers. Just a little. Then a couple of seconds pass as they continue to descend down. Nayeon groans, rolling her eyes again as she see’s Jeongyeon staring at her some more.

Jeongyeon smirked, leaning just a fraction closer. “Are you blushing…..? Or is that just the elevator lighting?”

“Yeah, sure, blame it on the lighting,” Nayeon muttered, flustered.

Jeongyeon grinned, letting the playful tension hang between them. The elevator dinged, the doors slid open, and both stepped out together, walking side by side toward the lobby. Jeongyeon offered her arm casually, and after a brief pause, Nayeon linked hers.

“Fine,” Nayeon muttered, lips twitching. “But don’t expect me to go easy on you just because we’re having lunch.”

“Trust me,” Jeongyeon said, laughing lightly, “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Soon enough, the two left the building and started scanning the shops nearby, trying to decide what to eat, and finally settled on Chinese food. They stepped inside the small, bustling restaurant and glanced over the menu.

Nayeon moved forward to the counter first, ready to order. Just as the cashier opened their mouth to tell her the total, Jeongyeon cut in smoothly. “Oh no, she’s with me,” she said, voice teasing. “We’ll order together.”

Nayeon shot her a sharp look, one eyebrow raised.

“I’ve got this,” Jeongyeon said, ignoring the glare, and rattled off her order along with Nayeon’s. Before Nayeon could protest, Jeongyeon whipped out her card and paid with ease. “Remember,” she said casually, “I said it was my treat. Did you forget that in our little phone chat earlier?”

Nayeon rolled her eyes, both amused and exasperated. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, shaking her head.

And then it happened. Before Nayeon could grab it from the cashier person, Jeongyeon snatched up the order ticket the moment it printed, grinning as she waved it triumphantly.

Nayeon’s eyes narrowed. “Give me that.”

“No,” Jeongyeon said immediately, already stepping back.

“Jeongyeon—”

Before she could finish, Nayeon lunged. Jeongyeon let out a startled laugh, lifting the ticket higher as Nayeon grabbed for it more. “Hey—hey, what are you doing?”

“Give it!” Nayeon hissed, half-laughing, half-serious as she tried to reach past her.

Jeongyeon raised her arm higher, just out of reach. “I said I’ve got it!”

“Oh my god—” Nayeon stepped closer, pressing in, trying to grab her wrist. “Stop being annoying!”

“I’m not—you’re just short—”

“I am not short—”

Nayeon stretched up on her toes, reaching—and suddenly they were close. Too close. Her hand stilled mid-air. Jeongyeon’s laughter faded just slightly, her grip on the ticket loosening as their eyes met.

For a second, neither of them moved. There it was again. That thing. Jeongyeon tilted her head, just a little—like she might actually—

Nayeon’s eyes widened. “Don’t—” She dropped back flat on her feet and shoved Jeongyeon lightly in the shoulder. “What the hell are you doing!?”

Jeongyeon blinked—then broke into a laugh. “What? I didn’t even do anything!”

“You were about to!”

“I was not—”

“You were literally leaning in!”

Jeongyeon just grinned, completely unrepentant. “You didn’t seem like you were gonna stop me.”

Nayeon’s face flushed instantly. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re still trying to steal my receipt,” Jeongyeon shot back, waving it again.

Nayeon scoffed, crossing her arms—but she was smiling now, just a little. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” Jeongyeon shot back, already scanning the restaurant for a table.

Nayeon groaned, shaking her head as she followed her. They ended up finding a table, and then make some small talk for a couple minutes, the kind of casual, easy chatter that somehow made everything feel lighter. Soon enough, the cashier called their order. Jeongyeon got up, grabbed the tray with their food, and carried it back to the table for them to eat.

Once they sat down, Jeongyeon braced herself.

For what, exactly, she wasn’t sure—but if their phone call was anything to go by, she’d expected… something. Teasing. Back-and-forth. Nayeon being difficult just for the sake of it. Maybe even a little chaos.

Instead—

They just… started eating. It was quiet—but not awkward. Not tense. Just… easy. The kind of silence that settles without effort, filled only by the low hum of the restaurant and the occasional clink of utensils around them.

No teasing. No sarcasm. No pushing. Just this.

Jeongyeon glanced up without thinking. Nayeon was already looking at her. Not sharp. Not playful. Just… soft. Calm. Like she wasn’t trying to win anything for once.

Jeongyeon looked away almost immediately, a small, involuntary smile tugging at her lips.

…Oh.

This wasn’t what she expected. Not even a little. She risked another glance. Nayeon hadn’t looked away. And for some reason, that made it harder to breathe. Because there was nothing to hide behind now. No banter. No jokes. No easy escape. Just Nayeon—sitting across from her like this was normal. Like they were.

Jeongyeon blinked, caught off guard by it. This wasn’t like them at all. And somehow—that made it feel more dangerous. For a second, she thought maybe… she might actually like it.

A few more minutes pass, and then Nayeon suddenly speaks up and looks at Jeongyeon. “So… let’s talk business.”

Jeongyeon arches a brow, playful as ever. “What type of business?”

There’s a small silence. Nayeon crosses her arms over her chest, her expression deadpan. “Um… your business proposal? The email? Are you dumb?”

Jeongyeon laughs, tilting her head. “Oh, right, that. What about it?”

Nayeon blinks at her. “What do you mean, what about it? You were the one that emailed me. You had a proposal in there. Do you not want to talk about that?”

Jeongyeon chuckles, shaking her head. “Oh… well, if I’m being completely honest, it was made up. I used AI.”

Nayeon’s eyes widen, appalled. “Are you kidding me? Seriously?”

Jeongyeon shrugs, picking up a piece of food. “Yeah… Or maybe I just wanted to have lunch with you.”

Nayeon can’t help it—she giggles, leaning forward. “So… you really have no actual REAL business proposal at all? Nothing?”

Jeongyeon tries not to laugh, shoveling a bite of food into her mouth, while stealing glances at the faint blush creeping across Nayeon’s cheeks. Nayeon leans back in her chair, arms still crossed, trying to play it cool. “So… you just lied to me?”

Jeongyeon smirks, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe. But come on, you can’t deny it’s worked out pretty well so far.”

Nayeon taps her fingers on the table, leaning closer. “Worked out? How exactly is sitting here eating Chinese food with you ‘working out’?”

Jeongyeon leans forward too, mirroring her, voice teasing. “Well, for one… you’re sitting across from me. Two… you’re smiling. Three… I don’t know, maybe this is what they call ‘networking.'”

Nayeon’s eyebrows shoot up, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Networking, huh? With someone who uses AI to make bullshit business proposals?”

Jeongyeon grins. “Exactly. See? We’re building chemistry. That’s key for networking.”

Nayeon rolls her eyes, shaking her head, but can’t help the faint blush creeping up her neck. She leans forward again, elbows on the table, studying Jeongyeon’s face. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Jeongyeon tilts her head, eyes locking on Nayeon’s. “And you… are dangerously easy to tease.”

The words hang in the air for a beat too long, and Jeongyeon feels her heart hammering. She can’t explain why, but she just stays there, caught in the pull of the moment. Nayeon’s voice cuts in, teasing more. “I know what game you’re trying to play, but it’s not going to work on me, you know.”

Jeongyeon tilts her head, smirking. “What game?”

Nayeon stares at her, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Come on… I’m not stupid.”

Jeongyeon laughs softly. “I’m not stupid either.”

Under the table, Nayeon’s foot taps against Jeongyeon’s, light at first, then lingering a little longer. Their legs brush, then subtly tangle. Jeongyeon feels a little jolt from the contact, and the air suddenly feels warmer, tighter, more charged.

She glances around the restaurant, noticing the perfect mix of people—enough to feel like they’re in a public space, but not crowded enough to worry. The little intimacy of the moment hits differently now.

Jeongyeon leans forward slightly, playful but careful. “You’re dangerously… distracting,” she murmurs, letting her eyes flick from Nayeon’s face down to the subtle brush of their legs, then back up.

Nayeon smirks, pretending to look at her food, but the corner of her lips tugs. “Distracting, huh? Maybe that’s the point.”

Jeongyeon exhales a quiet laugh, dragging a hand through her hair. “Yeah… that’s kind of the problem.”

“Oh?” Nayeon glances up, amused.

Jeongyeon tilts her head, studying her for a second longer than necessary. “If you keep this up, I might actually have to step outside. Get some air. Reset maybe.”

Nayeon snorts softly. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Am I?” Jeongyeon leans in just a little more, voice dropping. “Or we could just… handle it quickly.”

Nayeon pauses. “…handle what?”

Jeongyeon shrugs, way too casual. “I mean, I do have a car—”

STOMP.

Jeongyeon jerks back. “Ow—what the hell?”

Nayeon glares at her, cheeks flushed. “I am NOT that easy. Don’t try me.”

Jeongyeon stares at her for a second—then starts laughing. “Okay, okay—damn. Message received.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Nayeon mutters, picking up her chopsticks again like nothing happened.

Jeongyeon grins, still rubbing her foot. “And you’re violent.”

“You deserved that.”

“……it was worth it.”

Nayeon bites the inside of her cheek, trying to hide the smile creeping across her face. The playful tension hangs between them, heavy, light, funny, flirty—all at once. Her lips twitch despite herself. She shifts slightly in her seat, and Jeongyeon feels it immediately—her heel brushing against Jeongyeon’s ankle under the table. She glances down, smirking, but keeps her tone playful.

“You know,” Nayeon says, trying to sound casual, “I don’t really like messing with people from work.”

Jeongyeon raises an eyebrow, tilting her head. “Messing with people? What does that mean?”

Nayeon giggles, trying to play it cool. “Seriously though… I don’t.”

Jeongyeon leans back just a little, letting her foot nudge Nayeon’s again. “Mhm, fine… messing around then,” she says with a teasing lilt in her voice.

Nayeon narrows her eyes. “…you’re bold for someone who almost got punched five minutes ago.”

Jeongyeon blinks. “For what?”

Nayeon leans forward slightly, lowering her voice. “For trying to kiss me earlier.”

Jeongyeon pauses—then smirks. “I didn’t even get that far.”

“Bullshit! You were literally leaning in!”

Jeongyeon shrugs, completely unbothered. “You didn’t pull away.”

Nayeon chokes. “I—because I didn’t think you were actually—”

“Mhm,” Jeongyeon hums, eyes glinting. “So if I was…?”

Nayeon points a finger at her. “Don’t.”

Jeongyeon leans in just a little. “Can I try again?”

KICK.

Jeongyeon jerks back. “Ow—what is wrong with you?”

“I will actually fucking kill you,” Nayeon says, glaring—face completely flushed.

Jeongyeon laughs, rubbing her shin. “Okay, okay. Noted.”

“You deserved that too.”

“…still worth asking.”

Nayeon looks away, biting back a smile. The subtle contact continues—the brush of her heels against Jeongyeon’s dress shoes, the occasional shift of feet under the table—and both of them can feel it. It’s light, almost innocent, but the tension is electric. Each touch makes them a little more aware of the other.

Nayeon’s cheeks tint pink, her fingers tightening slightly around her chopsticks. “You’re… really distracting,” she murmurs, a little breathless.

Jeongyeon grins, letting her foot press lightly again against Nayeon’s. “Distracting? Me? Oh, I’m not even trying.”

Nayeon bites her lip—then immediately regrets it. Jeongyeon notices. Of course she does. Her gaze flickers—quick, subtle—down to Nayeon’s lips. Then back up.

Nayeon’s breath catches. “…don’t do that.”

“Don’t what?” Jeongyeon asks, too innocent.

Nayeon shifts in her seat, suddenly restless, her foot nudging Jeongyeon’s again. “You know exactly what.”

Jeongyeon leans forward just a fraction, voice dropping. “….and if I don’t stop?”

Their eyes lock. And then—there it is again. That pull. Nayeon’s gaze flickers—just for a second—down to Jeongyeon’s mouth. Soft. Too soft.

Jeongyeon catches it immediately, her smirk turning sharp. “Wow,” she murmurs. “You’re really trying not to look.”

Nayeon exhales, shaky. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” Jeongyeon tilts her head, leaning just a little closer over the table. “Because it kind of looks like you want to kiss me.”

Nayeon doesn’t answer. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t break eye contact. Jeongyeon’s voice drops, quieter now. “What if I just did it?”

Nayeon’s foot presses down—hard—against Jeongyeon’s leg under the table. “Stop fucking with me,” she says, low and firm.

Jeongyeon hisses softly. “Okay—ow—message received.”

But she doesn’t pull back right away. They stay like that for a second longer—too close, too aware—eyes flicking, just barely, to each other’s lips. Then—Jeongyeon leans back in her chair, hands up in surrender, grin still lingering. Nayeon’s foot slowly releases. Silence hits them. Then—

“You’re insane,” Nayeon mutters, grabbing her drink.

Jeongyeon just laughs as she leans back slightly even more, a smirk tugging at her lips. “So… you’re the type that messes around, huh? I didn’t really expect that too much.”

Nayeon crosses her arms, trying to hide the grin threatening to break free. “Yeah… I could tell that you’re that type too.”

Jeongyeon gasps dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. “Actually… I’ve been practicing abstinence for a while now. Two years strong, actually.”

Nayeon arches an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Uh-huh.”

Jeongyeon can tell she’s not buying it, and honestly… neither is she. She’s just talking out of her ass. Both of them burst into a quiet giggle, their eyes meeting over the table. The air between them is electric—funny, teasing, and full of that unspoken tension. Even with the casual setting of a Chinese takeout lunch, neither can hide the tiny, subtle thrill of flirting, the sparks igniting every time their eyes lock.

Jeongyeon suddenly leans back slightly, trying to look nonchalant, but she can feel her ears heating up. “You know… I would have thought you were the relationship type.”

Nayeon’s face doesn’t even change at first. She just exhales slowly. “Me? No… you’re wrong. I’m not even girlfriend material.”

Jeongyeon blinks, genuinely appalled. She doesn’t even know why the words spill out, but she can’t stop herself. “Yeah… you’re definitely not girlfriend material. But I could see you as more… wife material.”

Instantly, Nayeon’s cheeks flare red. She presses her foot firmly against Jeongyeon’s leg under the table, almost like an instinctive push-back. “Geez! What the hell is wrong with you??” she snaps, though the flush on her face betrays her.

Jeongyeon smirks, unbothered, though her own ears are now pink. “What? Just being honest,” she says, her voice playful but a little breathless from the proximity and tension.

The subtle pressure of Nayeon’s foot against her leg sends a jolt through Jeongyeon, and she can feel the air between them thicken—funny, flirty, and just a little dangerous still. Neither of them wants to break the eye contact, but both are acutely aware of how close they are, and how quickly this playful banter could turn into something more.

Jeongyeon can tell she’s got Nayeon this time—the way her face is flushed, her lips slightly parted, and her foot pressing deliberately against her leg. She leans in a little more, eyes sparkling.

Nayeon blurts out, in a low whisper, “I told you… I don’t do messing around with people I work with… or people in our company.”

Jeongyeon tilts her head, already smirking. “Well… I don’t work with you,” she says lightly. “I just… happen to exist on the seventh floor.”

Under the table, her foot presses against Nayeon’s again—firmer this time. Nayeon inhales sharply. “You’re so annoying.”

Jeongyeon just grins, completely unbothered.

“Seriously,” Nayeon continues, trying to regain control, voice still low, “and I don’t do dating either. That’s just… too complicated.”

Jeongyeon leans back slightly, like she’s considering that—then tilts her head. “So what are Momo and Mina doing, then?”

Nayeon immediately rolls her eyes. “That has nothing to do with me.”

“Mhm, sure,” Jeongyeon hums. “Same company. Same building. Working together now too.”

Nayeon shrugs, grabbing her drink. “Okay? And?”

Jeongyeon lifts a brow. “And… birds of a feather?”

Nayeon pauses, already unimpressed. “…don’t.”

“I’m just saying,” Jeongyeon continues, a small smirk forming. “Your friend is doing exactly what you ‘don’t do.'”

“I don’t do that,” Nayeon says flatly. “Whatever Mina wants to do is her business. That’s her life.”

Jeongyeon watches her for a second, clearly entertained. “Right. So that says nothing about you at all?”

“It doesn’t,” Nayeon shoots back. “I’m not like Mina.”

A beat passes. Then—Jeongyeon tilts her head again, curiosity slipping in under the teasing. “Why not?”

Nayeon pauses mid-sip. “…what?”

“Why don’t you?” Jeongyeon presses, tone still light—but more genuine now. “Messing with someone at work. Dating. All that.”

Nayeon exhales, already annoyed. “Because it’s messy. It’s unprofessional. There are rules for a reason at our company.”

Jeongyeon raises an eyebrow. “People are still people, though.”

Nayeon scoffs. “That’s not how it works.”

“Oh, it definitely is,” Jeongyeon says, nudging her foot again under the table—like she’s proving a point.

Nayeon glares at her. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re overthinking it.”

“I’m not overthinking it,” Nayeon mutters. “I just don’t want to deal with unnecessary complications.”

Jeongyeon hums, tapping her fingers lightly against the table. “Interesting.”

Nayeon narrows her eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Jeongyeon shrugs. Then, casually—too casually—”I mean, Momo’s done it before.”

Nayeon barely reacts. “What?”

Jeongyeon waves it off like it’s nothing, already reaching for her food. “Nothing crazy. She just… had a thing with a girl, a while ago.” There was a small pause. “…Sana was kind of a mess,” she adds, almost absentmindedly, like the name doesn’t mean much.

Nayeon doesn’t even look up. “Okay.”

“Sana worked here too,” Jeongyeon continues, chewing her food like this is just filler conversation. “But it turned into… a whole situation. She ended up going to Japan. Still technically with the company, I think.” She shrugs. “Haven’t heard anything since.” Another small beat passes. “…hopefully it stays that way.”

Nayeon hums, clearly not fully listening now, eyes drifting elsewhere. “Sounds like a bad idea. Kind of proves my point.”

Jeongyeon glances at her—just for a second—like she might say more. Like she should say more. But she doesn’t. Instead, she leans back, that smirk slipping right back into place like nothing ever shifted. “Good thing I’m not doing anything, then.”

Nayeon lets out a dry laugh. “Yeah. Clearly.”

Under the table—Jeongyeon’s foot presses against hers again. Slow. Deliberate. Nayeon freezes for half a second—then forces herself to keep eating like nothing’s happening. “…you’re actually ridiculous,” she mutters.

Jeongyeon just smiles. “I’m not playing with you.”

Under the table, their feet subtly tangle some more, sending another jolt through the space between them. The tension is thick, teasing, and hilarious, and neither of them can deny it. Nayeon leans back slightly, a teasing glint in her eyes, and says, “So… what do you want, then?”

The words hit Jeongyeon like a punch. She blinks, caught completely off-guard. “Uh… I… what?” she stammers, her usual cool, composed facade slipping. Nayeon’s gaze doesn’t waver—it’s sharp, knowing, and somehow… thrilling.

“I’m not stupid,” Nayeon continues, voice teasing but precise. “You meet me for the first time, flirt with me in front of your colleague and my friend Mina. Then you send me some proposal bullshit email.”

Jeongyeon can’t help a nervous chuckle, trying to play it cool, but failing spectacularly.

“Then I don’t respond to your email for a whole week,” Nayeon goes on, “and then you stalk me on our company’s website and call my phone. And now we’re having lunch. So… what’s your play here? What do you want?”

Jeongyeon freezes. Her mind goes completely blank. Damn. Nayeon caught her, and the truth? She doesn’t even really know what she wants. Not fully. And now, looking at Nayeon sitting there with that sly, challenging smirk, Jeongyeon realizes she’s in uncharted territory.

She clears her throat, trying to buy herself a few seconds. “Uh… maybe… I just… would really like… to hang out with you?” she blurts out, immediately aware of how lame it sounds. Nayeon blinks at her, unimpressed, lips twitching in amusement, and Jeongyeon can’t help but laugh nervously at herself, cheeks warming.

Nayeon tilts her head, eyebrow raised, smirk tugging at her lips. “Hanging out with me, huh? That’s it? Really? That’s all you’ve got for an answer?”

Jeongyeon feels her stomach tighten, the teasing edge in Nayeon’s voice making her heart race. “Uh… well… maybe I… just want to be around you?” she stammers, words barely above a whisper.

Nayeon leans a little closer, eyes sparkling, and taps her finger against the edge of the table. “Mhm… ‘just be around me,’ huh? That doesn’t sound like a full plan. What’s the real deal?”

Jeongyeon laughs nervously, a little forced, because she knows she’s losing this round. Her pulse is high, her mind buzzing. “I… don’t know. I guess I just… like talking with you—it’s… fun. Easy. Different. And I… want to do it more.”

Nayeon hums, satisfied with the teasing victory, leaning back with a subtle smile. “Different, huh? That’s one way to put it.”

And in that moment, Jeongyeon realizes something else—something she can’t fully articulate. Deep inside, all she knows is that she’s happy. Happy to be alone with Nayeon, to sit across from her, to feel her presence. It’s intoxicating. Dangerous in a way she hasn’t felt in a long time, and yet… she can’t get enough.

Jeongyeon doesn’t know where this is going. She wouldn’t say she has deep feelings for Nayeon—not yet, anyway. But the crush, the desire to be near her, to soak in every little moment—they’re burning, undeniable. Her thoughts wander, lingering, imagining maybe something more… messing around, maybe even something romantic. But Nayeon is clever, sharp, untouchable in some ways, and taking those thoughts seriously? Both options feel like shots in the dark.

Maybe Momo was right. Maybe she should take it slow. Let things develop naturally. Let Nayeon set the pace. Maybe, just maybe, if she’s patient, things could change. And for the first time in the day, Jeongyeon lets herself just enjoy this—the quiet, the teasing, the closeness—without needing an answer, without needing more.

Nayeon pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, clearing her throat. Her ears are just barely pink, and Jeongyeon notices immediately. “Well,” Nayeon says, voice teasing but soft, “I guess… maybe we can just start….. being friends.”

Jeongyeon feels her heart skip a beat, and she can’t hide the little smirk tugging at her lips. “Friends,” she repeats, mock-serious, leaning back slightly. Then her tone shifts, teasing, deliberate: “Yeah… we can be friends. Starting… now.”

There’s a spark in her chest as she says it, a thrill she hasn’t felt in a long time. She likes the sound of that word, the way it feels coming from her, the way it lands between them. Friends. Just friends… but it’s a word that feels heavier, warmer, and somehow full of possibilities.

Nayeon glances at her, trying not to smile too much, but it’s obvious. Jeongyeon catches it, and her grin widens. Oh, she thinks, this is going to be fun. Starting now, indeed.

Jeongyeon felt a small sense of relief settle over her. She was glad she hadn’t jumped the gun too fast—Momo had been right; she probably would have screwed things up if she had. But this… this was good. Friends for now. Steady. Comfortable. She could work with this.

Nayeon suddenly spoke again, pulling her phone out. “Here,” she said, holding it out with a small smirk. “I’ll give you my personal number—but no funny business, all right?”

Jeongyeon laughed, leaning back slightly. “What type of funny business do you mean?”

Nayeon gave her that sharp, knowing look. “Look,” she said, “I don’t know what you’ve got cooking, but I’m telling you—it’s definitely not going to fucking work on me. We’re just friends now.”

“Sure, sure,” Jeongyeon said, smirking, pulling out her own phone. They exchanged numbers, their fingers brushing briefly. Both of them smiled, grins stretching across their faces, cheeks faintly flushed.

Jeongyeon felt a warmth in her chest. This was… really, really good.

Soon enough, their food was gone, the conversation tapering into something quieter, softer—but no less charged. Nayeon glanced at her phone, then clicked her tongue lightly. “Lunch is basically over now,” she said.

Jeongyeon followed her gaze, sighing. “Damn. That was fast.”

They both stood, tossing their trash, brushing their hands off like they weren’t just sitting there seconds ago acting insane. And yet—They lingered. Just a second too long. Then they turned toward the exit together.

The walk back to the building was… subtle. Not obvious. But—Close. A little too close. Their shoulders brushed once. Then again. Neither of them moved away.

Jeongyeon caught herself glancing over—just quick, just once—and Nayeon was already looking at her. She smirked. Then Jeongyeon looked forward immediately. “You’re annoying,” she muttered under her breath.

Nayeon hummed, pleased. They stepped into the elevator together, the doors sliding shut with a soft ding. Empty. Just the two of them. The space suddenly felt… smaller. Quieter. Slower.

Jeongyeon leaned back against the wall, glancing over at Nayeon with a grin she couldn’t quite suppress. “So,” she started casually, “you still thinking about going with me to my car later, or—”

Nayeon turned her head slowly, staring at her. Deadpan. “Do you want me to fucking choke you?” she said flatly.

Jeongyeon blinked—then laughed, shoulders shaking. “What? I’m just saying—”

“You keep playing with me like that,” Nayeon cut in, stepping a little closer, voice low, “and I will end you.”

Jeongyeon raised her hands in surrender, still grinning. “Okay, okay—relax. I’m joking.”

“Uh-huh.”

Jeongyeon nudged her lightly with her shoulder. Nayeon didn’t move away. That’s when Jeongyeon noticed— Their shoulders were fully touching now. Neither of them pulling back. The elevator felt like it was moving at half speed. Or maybe—not moving at all.

Jeongyeon glanced at her again. Nayeon was already looking at her. This time, neither of them looked away. Something shifted. Subtle. But heavy. Jeongyeon’s eyes flicked—just for a second—to Nayeon’s lips. Soft. Really soft.

When she looked back up—Nayeon had noticed. Of course she had. Her expression didn’t change. If anything—it sharpened. Then—Nayeon leaned in. Just slightly. Enough to close the space. Enough that Jeongyeon’s breath caught in her throat.

Oh.

Oh shit.

Jeongyeon froze. Didn’t move. Didn’t joke. Didn’t breathe. Nayeon was close. Too close. Like—this was actually happening. Like—she was actually about to kiss—

Ding.

The elevator doors slid open. Nayeon pulled back immediately. Like nothing happened. Like she hadn’t just ruined her entire life. She smiled. Small. Sharp. “Bye.” And stepped out.

Jeongyeon stood there. Still. Blinking. “…what the fuck?” The doors started to close. “Wait—why did you—”

Too late. They shut. The elevator started moving again. Jeongyeon dragged a hand down her face, letting out a breath that was half laugh, half groan. “Fuck,” she muttered, shaking her head. Then quieter— “…she’s so annoying.” But she was smiling.

Smiling really fucking hard.