Bangtan's Baby | 18+

nine＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚all seven

Li's POV

I walk into the rehearsal room the next day, twining my hands anxiously in anticipation of dance practice.

The guys' texts last night boosted my confidence. They were talking about me as if I was special—as if I really meant something to them, and it made my stomach swirl with unexpected feelings.

I don't know what to do with those feelings or what to call them, so I decide feeling them is enough and wait awkwardly at the door for my dance instructor Cara.

I look down at the sandwich I packed, but the stinging reminder of yesterday keeps me from eating it. I don't want to be scolded again.

When she arrives ten minutes later, I'm surprised to see her holding a bag of takeout. I blink as she approaches me, her features tight and her brows drawn together.

She holds it out.

Confused, I stare at it before shifting my gaze to her.

"Are you hungry?" I wonder. "I can wait until you eat."

She looks annoyed. "No. It's for you."

"What?" I lift my sandwich. "But this is mine." I freeze, immediately beginning to backtrack. "I mean, I wasn't going to eat it, but I'm just saying that it's mine."

She releases a breathy sigh, shaking the bag in front of me. "Just take it."

I hesitate, unsure if this is some sort of test. If I take the bag, I'll be lazy for not practicing. If I don't, maybe I won't be as lazy.

I hold my ground, resolutely stating, "I'm fine. I'll just dance."

Her scowl shines through. "Take the damn food, or I won't hear the end of it."

Confusion tugs at my brows. "What?"

She shoves the bag at me, barely giving me time to grasp it before she leaves the room, calling over her shoulder, "Your thirty-minute break starts now."

I stare after her, thoroughly perplexed and slightly terrified as the door closes behind her.

I stand for all of thirty seconds before I plop onto the floor and dig into the food. I don't realize how hungry I am until I'm eating and can't stop. It's delicious.

Halfway through my food, my phone beeps from my pocket, surprising me enough to jump. I chuckle, shaking my head before retrieving my phone. My laughter comes to a halt, my eyes widening when I see who it is.

I stare at my phone in disbelief. I shake it a bit, wondering if it's an illusion, but when it keeps ringing, reality begins to set in and only furthers when the call leaves my screen.

I clasp my hand over my mouth.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

I fumble with my phone, dropping my chopsticks in the process, and hurriedly try to call him back.

My head is whirling and my food doesn't feel as settled as it did before.

Why is he calling me?

My fingers hover over his contact.

It was an accident, wasn't it? Nothing more than a butt dial.

My eyes burn.

Right?

I dial his number in the hopes that it wasn't.

He picks up on the second ring.

Before he can speak, I rush out, "I didn't realize you were calling until too late, and by then, the call rang through and I couldn't pick up, but I called back as soon as I could, so—" I cut myself off, red in the face, absolutely humiliated by my rambling.