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Drunken Dream Guy Novel Cover

Drunken Dream Guy

What do you do when the man of your dreams suddenly appears at your doorstep in the middle of the night? For one oblivious girl, the answer becomes clear when her crush shows up with hazy, drunken eyes, cutely calling her his "wifey." He is as irresistible as a cuddly Samoyed, and when he repeats his adorable late-night routine the very next evening, she simply cannot turn him away. But there is a twist to this reserved yet passionate man: he is actually allergic to alcohol.
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Chapter 4

4.

I had the food ready in no time. The man was like a bloodhound. One moment he was resting on the sofa, but the second he smelled the food, he stumbled over to the dining table.

"You're the best."

He grinned at me again, giving me a thumbs-up as he shoveled food from his bowl. "As if being beautiful wasn't enough, you're an amazing cook too!"

'I take back what I said before.'

'He wasn't bothering me.'

I held back a laugh and put a little more food on his plate.

After dinner, as I cleared the dishes, he sat to the side, quietly watching me.

I watched TV as usual, and he lay down beside me, watching me with his chin in his hands.

I worked on some files, and he leaned on my shoulder, watching me.

'All of this felt so natural... and yet so bizarre!'

'This won't do!'

'I can't let this go on!'

'If this keeps up, I'm going to lose myself in this illusory dream!'

I closed my laptop, turned my head, and forced a smile. "Zane Thorne, it's getting late. How about you head home?"

'If you stay here any longer, my true colors might start to show!'

"No," he said in a soft, childish voice. "Not unless you give me a kiss."

'A kiss?'

My eyes went wide. It took all my self-control to suppress the urge to rush over and rip his face off to see if he was wearing a mask.

"Men and women should maintain a proper distance."

I gently pushed him away and shook my head firmly.

"I want a kiss."

He pouted, his lips a tempting red, looking as if he wouldn't give up until he got what he wanted.

"No."

'I'm a person with standards!'

'Assuming I can remember what those standards are, that is.'

My stance was firm, but the rejection written all over my face seemed to break his heart.

His eyes reddened, and he rubbed them. "You'll make me sad."

'So be sad.'

Showing no intention of compromising, I turned back to the TV.

Suddenly, my vision went dark. The next second, something soft and warm pressed against my lips.

It was warm, with a faint taste of alcohol.

"Zane Thorne!"

My murderous expression clearly frightened him.

He flinched and shrank back. "Sister, please don't scare me!"

I froze.

'Am I that scary?'

'And "Sister"?'

'Zane Thorne, have you no shame? You're six months older than me!'

The brief kiss was over in an instant, but my mind was such a mess that I don't even remember how I got him home.

Lying in bed later, my mind was still filled with the memory of that soft, warm sensation.

'Zane Thorne, oh, Zane Thorne, who would have ever guessed!'

'You're usually so cold and aloof!'

'But get you drunk, and you turn into a clingy little puppy who just wants kisses and cuddles!'

「The next morning.」

Just as I expected, Zane Thorne had forgotten everything that happened the night before.

He looked at me with the same ice-cold gaze.

I also pretended nothing had happened.

'Anyway, you're drop-dead gorgeous. It's not like I lost out on a single kiss.'

Zane Thorne and I live on the same floor and also work at the same company.

We'd occasionally run into each other in the cafeteria at lunchtime.

'Like right now, for instance. He was standing in line in front of me. Looking at his tall figure and his cool, aloof back... I wondered, if he were to remember what happened on those nights, would he blush beet-red from embarrassment?'

"What are you getting?"

He was in line, right in front of me.

His sudden question startled me out of my reverie. I quickly composed myself and pointed casually at the Meatballs in Tomato Sauce. "That one."

He paid for me.

I was a bit surprised. Since our food was on his tray, I had no choice but to follow him and sit down across from him.

'What's gotten into him? Why is he suddenly treating me to lunch?'

I was on pins and needles throughout the entire meal. His table manners were impeccable and his movements so elegant that I felt crude by comparison, afraid to make any sudden moves.

"Just be yourself."

He seemed to notice my discomfort. Glancing at me, he said coolly, "There's a meeting this afternoon that will probably be draining. You should eat more."

'A meeting?'

'Why would it be draining?'

'My mind was filled with question marks.'

Perhaps because my mind was elsewhere, my hand slipped, and I knocked over my food. The tomato sauce trickled across the table and right onto his brown overcoat.

"I'm so sorry."

I shot up from my seat and frantically tried to wipe the stain off his coat with a napkin.

"I'm so sorry, really! Here, let me take the coat. I promise I'll get it perfectly clean for you!"

'I was just making a polite offer.'

To my surprise, he actually took off his overcoat and handed it to me. "Alright," he said. "Have it back to me in three days."

'...???'

'We've known each other for years, couldn't he cut me a little slack?'

I took the overcoat, painfully aware of the snickering glances from our nearby coworkers...

'I was utterly mortified.'

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