Jun-woo was clearly uncomfortable. He gave me a stern look as he leaned against the kitchen door, crossing his arms. His eyes scanned my figure as if I were the biggest nuisance in his life.

“You better stay away from me,” he growled, his voice thick with irritation.

I, still half-asleep and confused from drinking water in the early hours of the morning, shrugged. I was wearing one of his shirts—something I had taken because all my clothes were in the wash, to my defense—and some loose shorts. He didn’t need to be so dramatic.

“Why?” I asked, arching an eyebrow defiantly.

Jun-woo took a step forward, his dark eyes boring into mine. He exuded a mix of frustration and something else that I couldn’t decipher. He ran a hand through his hair and said in a deep voice:

“Because… because I’m drunk, and you walking around wearing my clothes, looking at me like that, gives me a lot of ideas.”

The kitchen fell silent, and I felt my face heat up. I wasn't sure if it was from the heat of the coffee or his words.

"I-Ideas?" I stammered, trying to hide my nervousness with a sarcastic smile. "What kind of ideas, Jun-woo?"

He shook his head, clearly irritated by the situation, but also seeming to hate himself for having said that.

"Ideas that we should avoid, if we want to survive living together," he muttered, looking away, but not before casting one more glance in my direction.