KICK IT | JENLISA

79

Jennie

"So..." I wet my lips with the tip of my tongue. "I think for our second to last session, we should change into barrels with suspender straps and sumo wrestle, in a kiddie pool filled with red Jell-O."

Lisa's cloudy gaze was a million miles away. "Huh?"

Three weeks since I last saw her and another two weeks before our expiration date, she wasn't here. She fumbled over her own feet. I assumed her head was full of charity mop up duty distractions, which dominated both the media and her time spent outside of training with Bambam.

Nancy the black widow spun her defence, the truth being the venom she sank into the stories. Yang Hyun-suk and his brother Yang Min-suk, the manager who skimmed across Lisa's charities were fired and awaited the legal wrath of Mina's team. Lisa was portrayed as a victim of the data being buried, proven by two YG Accounting's employees who were released after discovering the cover-up.

Mark relished his twenty minutes of fame and beamed during interviews. I ran into the darkest corner of non-existence that I could find. It was for the best, because Jackson told me, in nice words, to stay the fuck away from Lisa Manoban. The press and the public lapped up every word that Lisa's team, her, and Mark put out. Not that I expected Lisa to celebrate the magnified attention, but she should've been happy with the glowing support.

Instead, the idiot pouted on her mat.

I pushed down my fluttery heart's reaction to her simple text.

Lisa: I need you.

I needed twenty minutes to convince myself she only meant for her shoulder, but I knew within one vinyasa that Lisa's shoulder had recovered. Fatigue was her second skin, and I didn't like the raccoon eye look on her, but she no longer grimaced during restrictive positions. Looser muscles stretched deeper. Her meditation, although still a work in progress, was quiet.

None of that progress was present. Lisa half-assed her movements, a sluggish breath behind that she never caught up. And she wouldn't stop staring at me. A slight upward arch curved her eyes and their intensity pierced through me. Her gaze prickled goose bumps over me like a light brush of skin. I sweated more in my armpits and lower back than I did from our yoga practice. What was she thinking?

Finally, I quit trying to lead her through her last shoulder moves and sat facing her. "Lisa?" croaked out my dry throat. "I think we should... call it... over?"

She braced her palms on her mat and shifted her hips closer until our knees bumped. Darkened with the intensity of stubborn determination, her eyes never left mine.

"No."

I conjured up a sarcastic invasion of personal space comment when she leaned over and swept her lips over mine. A gentle, whispered press caressed my upper lip and took more than it gave. Soft hairs on her chin brushed the divot under my lower lip.

Oh.

Did that just...

OH.

"I don't want to call it over." she whispered into my cheek.

A skittered beat danced in my chest. Warmth flooded into my cheeks. The fact that she leaned in and took a kiss, without my permission, burned on my tongue. I didn't recognise the squeak that took over my voice, "What the fuck? Lisa, I didn't..."

Intention hung in her eyes before her lips met the corner of mine. With her feathered press, she cupped my elbows, holding firm as if she was worried that I'd pull back.

I wasn't going anywhere... because I was frozen. My ass was cement. If I wasn't seated, I would have fallen over. Painful beats thudded in my chest. My veins tingled and heat rose under my skin. Awareness ignited in parts of me that I had ignored for years, and their resurgence rippled through me.

Her lips met the centre of my bottom lip. A warm, and soft lick teased next. A gentle tug to part my lips, a plea for more than a kiss back. Her hands slipped down to my wrists and drew my trembling fingers up to her shoulders. Unlike the tension that wrenched mine up to my ears, her muscles were relaxed as I gripped the smooth texture of her shirt.

She pulled back, her eyes filled with a silent challenge. They were dark, so dark that I shivered. Her face was a beautiful spectrum of sharp angles and soft, warm lips that parted in a silent invitation.

Kiss me back. That's what her eyes were saying...

My lower lip quivered. Short, sharp breaths pitched my chest. Could I do this? I never thought... I hadn't kissed anyone, or even fucking touched anyone since my lips pressed onto Taehyung's forehead. Morbid but true. My last kiss was goodbye.

This kiss said... something else. And I didn't speak its language.