~Woo Min~
Hana was still staring at her phone like it had personally betrayed her when she suddenly snapped out of it, thumbs flying over the screen again.
"Hold on," she muttered, already hitting call on the front desk number.
I watched her, propped up on one elbow, sheet barely covering anything, trying not to laugh at how fast her night had gone from post-orgasm glow to full-on disaster mode.
"Yeah, hi," she said when someone picked up, voice all fake-sweet. "That woman in the lobby? Ji-won? Tell her I'm not available right now. Actually, tell her I'm asleep. Or dead. Whatever gets her to leave."
Pause.
Hana's face tightened. "No, don't send her up. I don't want to see her. Thanks."
She hung up, tossed the phone on the nightstand like it burned her, then flopped back down beside me with a groan.
"Done. Crisis averted. Ji-won can go home and cry to her diary or whatever."
I snorted. "You're cold."
