Chapter 1: Can't We Just Already?

The weeks after the party were amazing. I could have even called myself happy, I think. With Zen around it was almost impossible to have anything but a positive attitude. I don't know if it's the effect of having something physically that beautiful around you always - how can you NOT smile? Or that he's always giving me compliments, encouraging me to see the bright side of me.

"Hey, pretty girl," he'd say as we first wake up, touching my shoulder and rolling me towards him, pulling me in close.

"Hey baby," I'd say back, breathing in the scent of him, which is so only his I can only describe it as delicious.

"Scrambled eggs or omelette?" He asked, his red eyes doing this twinkling dancy thing with his eyebrows that made me literally weak in the knees.

One thing I'd learned about Zen is that the dinner he made that night I came over to his place the first time was not an incident in isolation. He actually has some pretty serious culinary skills. But I had things on my mind other than food this morning. Without thinking I leaned in and grasped him tight about the waist with both hands and pulled him in close so that his chiseled bare chest touched the silk of my chamise. My heartbeat instantly kicked it up a notch and I felt a familiar rush of heat roll through my body. My arms reached around the back of Zen's torso and I let my fingers start to trace the contours of his muscles.

"Hey, hey, hey…" Zen said, lightly pushing me back and blushing. "Be careful there."

"Maybe I don't want to be careful," I said, letting my eyes linger maybe a little too long on the elastic band of his boxers.

He stood up quickly and wrapped a blanket around his half-naked body. "Come on, babe," he laughed. "You're going to be late."

"So I'll be late," I said. I walked toward him slowly, letting one silk spaghetti strap of my chamise slide off my shoulder. His gaze locked in on that and he let out a long sigh.

"Oh, god," he said, backing away. "MC, don't do that…"

"Why not?" I said. "Zen, just tell me."

I felt a familiar rush of shame, followed by a crippling blow of insecurity. If you think about it, it might totally make sense that a hot, successful, semi-famous musical actor with hot prospects might not want to make love to a plain jane, girl-next-store at best girl like me. "Do you not want me?"

Zen let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head so that his silver locks seemed to float like a slow motion halo around his head. "Not want you?" he said. "Of course I WANT you."

The high tips of his cheekbones blushed with a tinge of red that matched the irises of his eyes.

"Zen," I said, reaching a hand out to touch his bare shoulder. "Then, what is it? I've been living with you here for three, maybe four weeks now. I'm your girlfriend, right? It's OK." My brand-name generic brown eyes searched his bright ones. "In fact, it's more than OK…" I tried to sound as positive and encouraging as I could. "I want you to."

Zen opened his mouth as if to say something and then closed it again. He was probably thinking about the other night. Last time we had this conversation it ended badly. He gave me a whole spiel about my honor and I'd told him I didn't really give a damn about my virtue, and neither should he.

"Well, I do," he had said, hotly. Then he had stormed out of the bedroom to go sleep on the couch. Shocked and then certain it was over, I started to cry myself to sleep. Not five minutes later, Zen was back in the bedroom, crawling into bed beside me and pulling me close, spooning me into his long angular frame.

"Oh babe," he said softly, kissing my tears. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

I nestled my face into his chest and let him comfort me.

"You know I love you," he whispered while I resisted the urge to shout back, "well if you loved me, you'd f*ck me now, wouldn't you?" Instead I let him whisper over and over again into my ear until I feel asleep.

Now here were, essentially starting to have that same conversation/argument again. I could see the frustration starting to furrow in his brow, which honestly, god damnit, just made him sexier. I don't know how much longer I can go on like this, I thought. Since the first day in the RFA chatroom, I'd been having fantasies about what it would be like to be that way with Zen, and my desire has just continued to grow. Now it's like a near constant itch I need to scratch deep inside me. Every time I'm near him, my body starts feel electric. I start to tingle all over, and there's this feeling deep in the pit of my stomach, an unrelenting ache. The ache, it just feels so good, but I also, you know, can't take it. It's this weird dichotomy. I just want to pull him near me and press my body into his and then, I don't know, maybe explode? But like in a good way…

"Zen," I said, my eyes pleading. "Please talk to me."

If he didn't want to sleep with me, if he wasn't attracted to me, I needed to know that, and I needed to know that now.

I watched Zen's eyes flutter from the clock on the bedside table to the kitchen and back to my face. "You've got to get to work," he insisted.

I felt my breath draw in quick in protest. Jumin had given me a job at his company doing marketing and communication outreach under Jaehee, his assistant.

"I think you'll be an incredible asset to our communication division," Jumin had said. I'd done an incredible job of organizing and hosting the RFA's latest party, the first one post-Rika. Rika was the former party coordinator, and then some; she clearly meant a lot more to each of the RFA members, including Zen. She was still mostly a mystery to me, but I felt a strong connection to her and what she represented. I wanted to do well by her, measure up, which meant in a lot of situations, I'd just ask myself: "What would Rika do?"

The job was going to pay more than my entry level gig at the PR firm I'd been working for, and even though I was still wary of Jumin, I'd grown to like Jaehee. My only concern was the possibility of getting bogged down with all Jumin's menial tasks and side projects. I'd watched it happen with Jaehee on more than one occasion, and I sure as hell wasn't going to let that happen to me. So in this instance I accepted the job with a caveat: "No cats," I said, with a sideways warning glance.

"Of course," Jumin said. "That's Assistant Kang's job."

"No," I said, taking an opportunity to stand up for my friend. "Elizabeth the 3rd is solely your responsibility moving forward, yes, Mr. Han?"

"I told you not to refer to me as 'Mr. Han", " Jumin said, looking flustered and turning away.

"Right," I said, making a point not to look into his eyes as I said it. "Jumin."

As I said it, I could feel Jumin's cryptic and twisted attraction towards me. It was a feeling I was constantly trying to deny existed. Instinctively I knew it wasn't really something he wanted, either, so maybe could we just leave it at that? I think we both tacitly agreed to pretend it didn't exist, but interacting with him was still sometimes awkward as hell.

And I certainly didn't want to be thinking about Jumin right now.

Back in Zen's bedroom, my eyes were still locked in on the solar plexus of Zen's chest, a perfect artistic representation of human physiology I felt in retrospect I'd seen this before in some museum. I let my gaze flicker from his chest up to the glow of his fire red eyes.

"Sweetie," he said and I let his self-effacing smile eviscerate me. "You know I love you more than anything." His voice was sweet and so, so authentic. For a moment I let the reverb of sincerity ripple through me, and then almost reluctantly returned to the issue at hand.

"Then why not?" I said, feeling the tingling in my lower third. I tried to combat the feeling by reframing the question as matter-of-fact as I could, and at the same time I couldn't help but feel the repetitive nature of this question was now becoming a feature of our relationship. Zen felt it, too. He sighed and sat down on the bed.

"I'm sorry, MC," he said.

Uh-oh, here it comes, I thought, and I sat down next to him on the bed. He picked up one of my hands and started playing with it. I let myself stare in the mess of silver hair on top of his lowered head, traced the strands that fell in and around his face with my gaze. How could I bare to lose this beautiful soul?

"I'm sorry, MC," he repeated. "It's just… It's only…" Zen stammered and began to shake his head. I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"It's OK, Zen," I said. "Whatever it is, I can take it. I'm a big girl." I'd said it, but I surely didn't know or believe it to be true. I doubt I could really take having him break up with me.

"Oh god," Zen said, suddenly standing up and grasping his head with both hands. He began to pace back and forth. "I can't…"

The expression on his face was so pained I almost told him to forget about it, but honestly I had to hear what was coming.

"Just tell me, Zen," I said in a quiet whisper. "I need to know what's going on with you."

My fingers were clutching handfuls of white sheets, and I knew my face was pale as well. I braced myself for what was coming. He's going to dump me now, I thought, and then I said it: "Just get it over with," I said miserably. "Break up with me and I'll go."

Then, in less than a second, Zen was on the floor in front of me kneeling and cupping my face with both hands.

"Oh jesus, no!" he said. "That's not it at all!"

I felt my mouth start to go dry and that choking feeling in my throat. Tears were on the way.

"Oh, baby," he said. "Please don't cry, please don't."

He pulled strands of hair away from my face and stroked my cheek. "Honey, listen," he said. "It's not you, it's me…"

If those aren't familiar break up words I don't know what are, and so the tears came in earnest.

"Ssshh, ssssh, baby, just listen," Zen said softly, and he pulled our heads closer so that our foreheads touched. "Honey, I think you're getting the wrong idea."

"Just tell me then, god damn it," I said, feeling my soul choked in my throat.

"Ok, ok," he said. "I will. Babe, just listen, Ok? Can you look at me?"

I managed to stop crying for a minute and lift my head and look into his beautiful face. My heartbeat quickened with the realization that every one of his features was filled with concern for me. He loved me, he really did. I could see that plain. Suddenly I realized that whatever was coming was not for lack of affection for me. Instantly I felt better, and maybe ready to hear what he had to say.

Zen's red eyes penetrated mine as if say "are you ready now?" I nodded my head slightly and he took both my hands.

"Babe," he said, clearing his throat for courage. "I'm a virgin."

Without thinking my mouth popped open and I gasped with relief.

"Oh!" I said as both hands went up to my face. "Oh, Zen, that's…" I searched for the appropriate word. "Amazing."

I clutched my chest and let full body relief wash over me. "Oh my god," I said. "I thought you were breaking up with me!"

"Oh god, oh honey, no!" he said. "Silly goose, never!"

He took one of his hands and pressed it into mine, intertwining the fingers. "For better or worse, babe," he said. "You're stuck with me."

Then he peaked up at me through a lock of bangs. "If you'll have me, of course."

"Zen," I said all at once realizing his insecurities and wanting to wipe them all away. "Zen," I gasped. "I love you you so much!"

I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him hard on the lips. His arms encircled my waist and he pulled me up and toward him, kissing me back. This went on for a while until one, or maybe both of us pulled away. Then we sat together on the bed quietly holding hands.

"I'm glad you told me," I said, finally.

"I am, too," he said.

"Why did you wait so long?" I said.

"I don't know," he said. "I was scared."

"Scared of what?" I said.

"I'm not sure," he said. "I just wanted to impress you. I didn't want to let you down." He paused. "Besides, who's ever hear of a 26-year-old model/actor virgin? It's not like I didn't have plenty of chances. I was just…"

He looked at me and tipped my chin up towards his face. "I was just waiting for the perfect girl." He moved his face closer and his voice got lower.

"MC," he said, slowly. "It's not that I don't want to make love to you. I do - I think about it all the time, god!" he paused to run a hand through his silver hair as if he were shaking off a thought he was having right now, and I blushed.

"I know you're the one," he went on. "I can feel it in my bones and I've known it for a while… I just didn't know what to do about it." Then he sighed. "I just didn't want to let you down, didn't want you to be disappointed."

It was my turn to reassure him and I did it with the full force of my being. I turned his head toward mine and looked deep into his warm red eyes.

"Zen," I said. "Are you listening to me?"

He nodded his head sightly, and I let my eyes linger over every part of him, his beautiful body, his beautiful soul.

"Zen," I said with absolute certainty. "You could never, ever disappoint me. Never ever."

Looking about six years old all of the sudden, he peered at me through a curtain of bangs as if to say "really?"

I answered those eyes with my voice. "Yes, really," I said. "And we can wait as long as you damn want to," I added.

Zen's mouth curved into a smile, a sideways sultry one I hadn't seen before that ignited the tingly, tickly feeling deep in my stomach.

"You know," he said. "I really don't want to wait…"

I felt my heart flutter in my chest and I smiled back.

"Yeah, but," I said, glancing up at the clock on the wall. "Now I am going to be late for work…"

I got up to kiss him on the cheek and go get dressed, warm with the certainty that this would be the last time we'd have this conversation ... and with any luck later tonight or maybe tomorrow, there wouldn't be much talking at all.