33

                                    

                                          
Despite the warning that the first snow was reported to fall today, I still wanted to walk to his house. Using a car just to drive down two blocks sounds like why global warning is still a crisis. 
The weather is harsher than yesterday but thanks to Michael I managed to stay a little more warmer and fashionable today.
The black dungaree Mickey forced me to buy a year ago somehow fit me without a struggle-- the only struggle being me fighting for my life against that brat's strong grip. 
He made a huge fuss about me going to Peter's house to study, as if it was a date.
He even man-handled me into a red sweater I barely ever wore, and thermal leggings that I bought out of curiosity. The only thing I put on out of my own choice was a black coat. 
Now, I'm not saying that his choice was misguided, I mean I did look good but that's because I can pull off any outfit. I'm good looking enough to do so. However, I feel overdressed, all I'll be doing is studying a stupid subject with the love of my life.
No reason to get all dolled up.
In front of his door, I pull my hair out of it's restricting low ponytail and run my hands through it to make it look representable, or at least like I don't constantly neglect it.
Just as I am about to knock, the door swings open,
"Hey," he pants out with a wide grin.
Shoving my hands into my coat, I smile nervously, "were you waiting at the door for me?"
He huffs out breath and leans against the door, "what would give you that idea?"
I chuckle, "aren't you going to invite me in? It's cold."
"Oh," he straightens up and cleans his hands on his jeans. "Come in." He moves aside for me, "you know, only vampires need permission to enter someone's house."
I hum, "I guess vampires have basic etiquette." No sane person would enter someone's house without being invited in or gaining permission.
His house hasn't changed one bit, heavily furnished with some of his mother's paintings and random odd looking art pieces. 
I take off my shoes by the door, just like his father instructed me to do, and follow him inside to his living room where the long wooden Korean soban table and light blue sectional midcentury couch were set. 
The large family portrait hanging over the tv makes me smile, because Peter had his big glasses on.
"Okay, want to study here or in my room?" He asks as he sways from side to side and I squint my eyes at him.
Studying on the soban table didn't sound ideal since it was meant for eating, but being locked in Peter's room with only him made me fear that no studying would be done. Especially with his little comment yesterday. 
"How about the dining room?" I suggest. They never use it if I can remember correctly, unless it was to hold the ridiculous art vase that was shaped like a grapevine trying to wilt away.
His shoulders drop, "but the room is so much better."
"I'm sure, but you have that look in your eyes."
"What? What look?" He bats his lashes at me.
"The look of a horny fifteen year old," I laugh and pass by him to go to their dining room.
I remember asking Mr Jung why they had a soban when they already had a functional dining table, and he looked me dead in the eyes and said,
"To keep my Korean roots in tact."