Frenemies

Ha-na's eyes held Ji-hoon's penetrating, jet-black gaze, fringed by luscious lashes underneath bold, black brows that slashed above his eyes like two elegant brushstrokes.

His broad ivory palms and lean, elegant fingers clamped around her golf club with a vice-like grip, and Ha-na was tempted to imagine what it'd be like to be caught within his grip. Within the strong cradle of his powerful arms, surrounding her…

Ha-na shook her head to dispel the array of silly thoughts crowding her mind. When he was near her, her mind seemed to spin out of control and become devoid of rational thoughts!

She relinquished her semi-crouched stance to stand up straighter, and from the grim set of her brows and small, rounded lips, Ji-hoon was in for a lashing.

"What are you doing?" She asked in an icy tone, annoyed that he had interrupted her strike midway. But Ji-hoon didn't seem to share her sentiment.

There was a blank, almost-serious look on his face. Only the slight depression at the corner of his lips betrayed his roguish intent.

"Why, to stop you from taking your eyes out with the golf club – possibly your head too and arms. I'm doing you a great service by not letting you land in the hospital."

Ha-na couldn't decide whether he was joking or merely trying to goad her. She sighed, glaring at him.

"Thank you for your concern, but I can manage fine on my own," she motioned to Chairwoman Lim and Bin-na's figures in the distance with her head. "You should worry about your companion instead. She's flustered that you won't acknowledge her advances towards you."

"That's solely to the discretion of my matchmaker. And last I remembered, it was you I had signed a contract with to pick out a wife for me, no?"

Ha-na furrowed her brows. "What has that got to do with –"

"The matchmaking process will be based on my preferences and personal choices, am I wrong?"

Ha-na yielded up her grip on the golf club to Ji-hoon's triumphant possession, crossing her arms over her chest. "What's your point?"

He planted the golf club into the grass, leaning against it. "You haven't even gotten to know me yet. Or my 'companion', to decide whether we are compatible or not. That's why you're here, isn't it?"

Ha-na's lips parted in a retort, but no words came out. She knew Ji-hoon was right, but the way he put it made her sound incompetent! And it prickled her pride.

Ji-hoon took a stance next to the tee where Ha-na was a few moments ago, his legs parted in a looming strike. Ha-na matched towards him, all riled up.

"Were you always this infuriating? Because as far as I can recall, the Su-ho I knew back then wasn't."

Whop!

Ji-hoon hit the multi-cratered white golf ball with a confident strike, watching it fly in a parabola in the distance. He then turned to her, a curve lifting the corner of his plum lips in a half-smirk.

"I didn't realize we were on a first-name basis now. From what I remember, you firmly stated that you wanted to play ignorant to our past."

He stepped closer to her, looming over her like a dark shadow. His eyes, previously alight with taunting, now took on an icy-hard quality, like twin round shards of polished obsidian.

In that instance, Ha-na finally understood why he was called the cold and ruthless President Cha. He certainly didn't look friendly now, and she felt herself wither beneath the weight of his gaze.

"So, we'll play ignorant, Director Oh."

Ha-na watched Ji-hoon's retreating figure, feeling an overwhelming sense of shame wash over her. Whatever had possessed her to refer to him as Su-ho, and why had she made such an allusion to their high school past?

The way it has played out, it felt like she still held onto what they shared – like she was piteous, pathetic, stuck in the past and unable to move on from long-ago memories. It warred with her actions and words!

She felt like a total loser in front of him just now, and she grew irate. He wanted them to act like strangers? Fine.

She was going to do her very best and get him a suitable match as soon as possible. The sooner he was out of her hair, the sooner they could bury their past and leave it where it belonged.

-----

Ha-na's footsteps made a squelching sound as she scurried across a concrete sidewalk by the side of a motorway. She hunched her shoulders against the torrential weather, holding her bag aloft as a temporary shield from the pouring rain.

She cursed aloud for not bringing along an umbrella. She also cursed the fact that her car was still in repairs and she had to go and collect it the next day instead of now that she needed it.

Stopping by a convenience store, she fished around for an umbrella but was sorely disappointed to find out that it was all sold out.

She stepped out dejectedly from the shop, allowing the rain to soak deeper into her clothes which were already clingy and transparent against her skin.

"Great. Such a horrid ending to a beautiful day out." She sighed wearily. "Could this day get any worse?"

As if on cue, a silver car screeched past, sending a wave of dirty water splashing onto the sidewalk – drenching her from head to toe.

"Hey!" Ha-na called out angrily, frustrated at her situation, but was even more vexed to find out that the driver was none other than Ji-hoon. Had he done that on purpose to vex her?

He wound down the side window of his car and stared out of it – at her – soaking in the merciless rain.

"Get in."

His words were terse and direct, but Ha-na wasn't about to be ordered around by him after he bathed her in a murky rain puddle!

"No, thank you." She replied frigidly, walking off in her previous direction. But Ji-hoon was going to prove that he was more mulish than she was.

He drove his car forward, matching the tempo of her footsteps. "Get in. I won't say it again."

"Then don't. I'm fine in the rain. At least, it'll wash away some of the exasperating things you already said to me today."

The next thing she heard was the slamming of a car door, and before she knew it, Ji-hoon was standing over her with a transparent umbrella over her head.

She looked at him, startled, watching the clear raindrops flatten his hair against his forehead, running down his chiselled chin and soaking the polo shirt he wore.

He had her hand in a firm grip, and his eyes bore into hers in a way that sent shivers down her spine – intense, unreadable, and utterly impossible to look away from.

"Are you going to keep turning down my offer, or do I need to coerce you further?"