Kissing in a Winter Wonderland

You and Minjeong have a problem. 

You can’t stop kissing each other.

It’s not totally egregious—there are certainly bigger problems in the world—but you fear it’s gotten a little out of hand.

In the convenience store on a casual meetup. 

In karaoke booths where the sound picked up by the microphones is usually reserved for singing.

Shopping centres, national parks—nowhere is safe from your public displays of affection.

Perhaps the best part, though?

You both love it.

“My neighbours are gonna see,” Minjeong breaks the kiss, leaning her forehead to yours, critically not pulling away.

If anything she gets even closer.

You huff a quiet laugh, press your lips to hers again, and again. “You say that—” another kiss, push her up against the wall next to her open apartment door,“—when you’re the one who’s jumping on me.”

“I did not—” she tries to argue, but it dissolves into a soft gasp when you tilt her head up and kiss her again.

God, you adore how she looks when you do this. 

Your hands find her waist, fingers lightly splaying in her shirt. It’s not enough for her, apparently, because she pulls you ever closer by the loop she’s formed around your neck.

For someone so worried about being seen, she’s not doing a very good job of stopping.

Your other hand drifts up along her side, tracing the line of her ribs before settling just beneath her shoulder blade. You keep it there. Nothing reckless, nothing either of you aren’t ready for. Just enough to feel her warmth through the thin layers between you.

Minjeong exhales into your mouth, soft and shaky, already forgetting what it was she was complaining about.

“Still worried?” you whisper.

She nods.

And yet she kisses you again.

Yeah that tracks.

Baking, you believe she said, is what you’re here for.

You’re pretty sure none of that is going to be happening today.

Because the whole world feels like it narrows to this: the plushness of her lips, the warmth of her exhale, the twinkle in her eyes whenever you push your tongue into her mouth. Neither of you register how long you’ve been standing here, lost in the kiss, each other, until—

“Ahem,”

You both freeze.

Slowly, reluctantly, you pull back just enough to glance over Minjeong’s shoulder.

An older woman stands a few steps away, grocery bag hooked over her arm, watching the two of you with a knowing look that’s far too calm to be anything but devastating.

Minjeong goes rigid. So do you.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, mortified, letting her arms drop slowly from her neck.

“Were you two planning on staying out here all night,” the woman asks mildly, adjusting her grip on the bag, “or…?”

Minjeong makes a noise that’s somewhere between a squeak and a groan, grabbing your sleeve. “Inside. We’re going inside. Now.”

You don’t argue.

The door fumbles open on the second try, both of you slipping in far quicker than your dignity can keep up with. It shuts behind you with a soft click, cutting off the hallway—and the witness—to your increasingly predictable problem.

For a moment, there’s nothing but your panicked breaths.

Then Minjeong turns to you, face still flushed, eyes wide.

“…You’re the worst,” she says.

You grin.

“Still kissed me back.”

She opens her mouth to retort—

—and then, inevitably, gets “distracted” again.

Outside, the older woman chuckles to herself, continuing down the hall.

“Ah,” she muses under her breath, a small smile tugging at her lips. “To be young and in love.”