The Love Deception |Taekook

Chapter 34

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"Jungkook," Taehyung called, forcing my gaze to return to his face. Cheeks heating, I pretended I hadn't been ogling him. And appreciating what I ogled.
"Yes?"
"I asked if you were done with that?"
Shit. "Done with what exactly?" I scratched the side of my neck, trying to conceal my embarrassment.

"Panicking. About me not coming. Are you finally done with that? Because I am here now, just how I said I would be. And I wasn't late. You just happened to be shockingly early." He tilted his head slightly and then
added, "For once."

Eyes narrowed, I checked the time on my phone. "Fine, you might be
right." I returned my gaze to his. "For once." The right corner of his lips tipped up. "Good. So, now that we have established that," he started, and I did not like one single bit how smug helooked all of a sudden, "do you think you are done looking at me like I have grown a second head too? Because I'd like to get going." Busted.

"Yep," I squared my shoulders. "Done with that too." I reached for the handle of my carry-on suitcase. "I just didn't know you owned normal clothes." Taehyung cocked a brow.

My treacherous eyes swept him head to toe again. Dammit, he looked
really, really good, all cozy and comfy.
I shook my head. "Come on, Mr. Robot. We have bags to check in," I
told him, forcing my eyes away. "Now that you are here and all."

Reaching for the weekender bag—which was filled to the brim—I lifted
it off the floor, hung it off my shoulder, and tried to walk with as much grace as I could while probably looking a little bit like an overloaded
Sherpa. In one long stride, Taehyung caught up with me. I watched his eyebrow rise as he gave me a sideways glance.

"How long are you planning on staying in Korea?" He eyed my two pieces of bigger than strictly necessary luggage.
"I thought we'd be flying back on Monday."
"And we are."
Eyes wide, Taehyung made a show out of looking me and my luggage up
and down. "That's how you pack for three days?"

I quickened my pace while I tried really hard not to assplant on the
terminal's polished floor under the weight of the bag on my shoulder. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

Instead of answering, his hand on my arm stopped my course. Without
giving me a chance to complain, he delicately snagged my bag and placed it on his shoulder.

The physical relief was so immediate that I had to stop myself from
moaning in response.
"Jesus, Jungkook," he huffed, looking back at me, horrified. "What are
you carrying in here? A dead body?"
"Hey, this is not a regular weekend visit to the fam, okay? Stop luggage-
shaming me," I said to the scowling man walking beside me. "I had to fit
loads of stuff. Makeup, accessories, hair dryer, hair straightener, my good
conditioner, lotion, all the dresses I'm taking, six pairs of shoes—"

"Six pairs of shoes?" Taehyung croaked, scowling even harder.
"Yes," I answered quickly, my gaze hunting for the right check-in
counter. "One for each of the three different outfits I need, plus the pertinent three backups." I paused, thinking of something. "Please tell me you packed at least one backup."

Taehyung rearranged my bag on his shoulder, shaking his head at the same time. "No, I didn't. But I'll be fine. You, on the other hand ..." Another shake of his head. "You are—" "Brilliant?" I finished for him. "Astute? Gifted in the art of packing? I
know. And I hope you have enough clothes in that tiny suitcase you are
carrying."

"Ridiculous," he murmured. "You are a ridiculous man." "We'll see who's the ridiculous one when something accidentally happens to your shirt, tie, or suit, and you have to wear one of my dresses to the wedding."

A grunt reached my ears. "Six pairs of shoes," the scowling man in casual wear muttered. "Ridiculous man packing his own weight in clothes." He went on, almost too low for me to make out.
"If it's too heavy for you, you can give it back. I was doing fine myself."

His head shot in my direction, giving me a look that told me that wasn't
an option. Sighing, I accepted the help. "Thank you, Kim. That's very kind of you."

"And you were not doing fine," he countered back, making me want to
take back my thank-you. "You could have hurt yourself." Taehyung veered for the left, and I finally tracked down the counters matching the airline we were flying with.

I followed him. "I appreciate the concern, Big T. But I've got my own
set of muscles." He brushed over my use of his nickname. "Of course. You have to be stubborn on top of ridiculous," he muttered under his breath. I had to hide my smile. "Said the kettle to the pot."

With a last sideways glance, Taehyung sped out, letting his long legs carry him away with his small and reasonable suitcase and my ridiculously brimming bag off his shoulder. From my position a couple of steps behind him, I had no choice but to let my gaze travel down his backside.

A not-too-small and certainly notvery-quiet part of me was a little in awe by how his jeans hugged those muscled thighs, which had once propelled him across a football field. That same part got a little louder when my eyes trailed up, catching how his biceps, which I knew had carried a brown melonlike leather ball across that very same field, were bunched as his arm held the weight of my bag.

Ugh. It was terribly disturbing how distracting Taehyung's backside was
now that I knew more of him. Now that I knew all these tiny little pieces of his life. The ones I had found out about the night of the fundraiser, sure. But also those I had dug up when I Googled him.

Yes, I had fallen prey to my curiosity. But just once. I had allowed
myself to do that one single time.
And that level of self-restraint hadn't been easy to accomplish. At least
not considering how everything out of my little Google rendezvous had
been stuck in the back of my head ever since I indulged. Demanding to be acknowledged more often than I was ready to admit.

My mind seemed eager on not letting go of the pictures of a younger
version of Taehyung—just as stoic, his shoulders as wide, and his jaw just as
hard—dressed in a purple-and-golden uniform that made my heart rate
grow a little quicker, only thinking about it. Or the headlines proclaiming
that he had been a known name back in that day. But what I'd had more
trouble forgetting were the articles—and there had been more than a couple dozen—praising his performance and foreshadowing the player he would become. But hadn't.

So, why hadn't he? Why did the press coverage of his football career go
for a few years and then stop altogether? That was something I hadn't managed to find. And it only fueled my itch to know more. To learn more about this man I had thought I had all pieced together but that I was learning I couldn't have been any more wrong about.

As if on cue, Taehyung looked back at me. His brows rose on his forehead.
"Is something wrong?"
Caught a little off guard, I just shook my head.
"Then, come on. At this pace, we will never make it to Korea."
"If only I were so lucky," I mumbled. But then I shot forward, walking
until catching up with him.

Once again, Taehyung was right.There were more pressing concerns to occupy my mind with. Like the plane we would be boarding in less than a handful of hours. Or the fact that once we did, there was no turning back.
Because we were doing this. We were really doing it, and we had to ace
it.

By the time we landed in Korea, my family needed to believe that Taehyung and I were happily—hearts bursting, birds chirping, and flowers blooming —in love. Or at the very least, that we could stand each other for more than ten minutes without causing an international war to erupt.

And as much as I had no clue how we would ever manage to do that, I
was sure of something. We, Taehyung and I, would figure it out. We had to.

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