His back is broad and surprisingly warm. She sinks into his shoulder, her limbs loose from the alcohol, her body drawn to the comfort of him as if it instinctively knows it's safe here.
"Mia, are you enjoying it?" he teases, the grin audible in his voice.
The question cuts through the haze, pulling her upright just enough to slap his back lightly.
"Are you kidding me? Put me down, now."
"I was kidding," he laughs, the sound low and genuine—missing the usual sarcasm that usually laces his words.
His laugh is low and genuine. It's warm—unlike the usual sarcastic edge he throws at Mia. Her chin settles on his shoulder again, breath soft against the fabric of his collar. The alcohol dulls the world around her, but not the clarity of this moment. She knows exactly whose back she's on. And somehow, she's okay with that.
"Why didn't you let Kevin take me home?" Her voice is quiet. "We're not even that close. You didn't have to."
"You looked uncomfortable," he replies, each step steady, purposeful. He pauses. "Or… did you want to go with him?"
"No way," she says quickly. "Can you imagine the gossip?
'Assistant taken home by new department head'?
I'd never hear the end of it."
"What about us, then?" he asks. "You don't think they'll talk?
'Senior designer carries assistant home on his back'—sounds even worse."
He's right. It would spark more talk than she'd like. But somehow, it doesn't make her stomach twist the same way.
Before she can respond, he stops.
"We're here. My car."
He opens the door and helps her in, gentle in the way he supports her weight. Once inside, she sits in silence, eyes on the dashboard, heart beating far too loudly for her liking.
Ben leans in. The air changes. His breath grazes her cheek as his arm stretches across her, brushing against hers.
The seat belt clicks into place.
"There," he says softly. "Safety first."
She doesn't speak. Not when her pulse is still trying to return to normal.
"Alright, where's your house?" he asks without skipping a beat.
"Huh? Ah… it's just over there. Near the corner."
He raises an eyebrow, amused. "Where exactly 'over there'? I live near the corner too. Maybe you just want to come to my place?"
She stares at him, eyes wide.
He bursts into laughter. "I'm kidding! Jay texted me your address. Relax."
She turns away, trying to hide the involuntary tug at the corner of her lips. This is the first time they've ever been alone. It's awkward, yes—but there's an ease to it too. Something unexpected. Something that sticks.
_________________________________________________
The weekend comes like a much-needed exhale. Her head still spins with the aftereffects of too much soju, yet the night refuses to fade. Every detail stays etched in her memory.
"Have a good night, Mia."
His voice had been calm, warm, stripped of all the usual mockery. Just him. Sincere. And somehow, that version of Ben has been playing on loop in her mind ever since.
Her phone buzzes.
Mia, did you get home safe?
If I'd known Ben was the one who brought you, I wouldn't have let him! 😤
I was too drunk to realize anything, and it was Jay who told me after.
I literally screamed at him and punched him in the head!! 😭👊
She frowns. The tone of Jella's message isn't just surprise—it's concern. Unease. Something's off.
She taps on the contact and calls.
"Hello? Jella?"
"MIAAA! Huhuhu are you okay?!" Jella wails into the receiver. "Tell me nothing happened! Ben didn't do anything to you, right?!"
"What? No!" she replies, caught off guard. "He didn't do anything. He just took me home, waited outside until I got in safely, and left. That's it."
A pause follows.
"Oh… really?"
"Yeah." Her tone tightens slightly. "Why did you sound so freaked out in your message? You said it like Ben would actually… do something. Is there something I should know?"
Jella exhales, a long, heavy breath.
"So… you really don't know?"
"Know what?"
"There's a rumor about Ben going around the office," she says carefully.
"What kind of rumor?"
"They say Ben's not exactly… serious with women." Another pause. "Like he flirts, dates them, and then—poof—gone. Leaves them hanging."
The words land hard.
That version of Ben doesn't match the one from last night. The one who made sure she was buckled in, the one who stayed outside her house. The one who didn't push or assume or cross any lines.
She opens her mouth but can't find the right words.
"I'm not saying it's true, okay?" Jella adds quickly. "But… just be careful, okay?"
"Yeah… Thanks, Jella."
They hang up.
And just like that, the line between what she thought she knew and what she doesn't sharpens.
Ben—the sarcastic one, the one with the annoying jokes, the one who carried her like she mattered—is tangled in something deeper. And for the first time, she wonders if she really knows him at all.
Maybe it's just gossip.
Maybe it's not.