2.1 | The Better Half and Half ✓

SIXTEEN>> Put Brakes On Clinical Luck

CHAPTER SIXTEEN |Put brakes on clinical luck| JUNG HOSEOK

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The moisture in my mouth dried up like the shrubs dying for a drop of water in the vast deserts. He was a gentleman. Jung Hoseok really was.

He breezed inside the coffee shop by pushing the two wooden planks inward and tugging his fingers at one of them to permit my smooth entry. Glancing around at basically no one but emptiness, I inhaled a fruity smell. His steps were too quick on the deep orange-colored floor that underpinned the instance that he might have been here before.

This place was dead silent, giving questioning privacy to its customers. Well, the kind of privacy that could turn any walk-in friends into lovey-dovey couples (if their conversations continued to be administered by this poignant silence.)

"Which table we should choose?" he vaunted, slipping his hands into the pockets of whitewashed Bermuda.

"Ah, let's just sit anywhere. All the tables are vacant," I said suggestively, casting a glance at his silvery-dyed hair when he turned his head to locate the best spot.

He was hot in his way.

The yellow bow-legged tables, colorful upholstered seats, the brickwork walls with flora and fauna images tugged on, provided the perfect feel of contemporary summer. I mentally added this place to the bucket list of my adventures with Taehyung. I knew there would be subsequent hiccups before we could agree on coming here together because Taehyung didn't show any interest in such lit places. He was quite satisfied with the usual meals-on-the-wheels leaving two blocks from his place. Convenient and under his budget.

He ordered something and upon asking I parroted the waiter to get me the same thing, "Hmm, so what's the plan?" He joined his hands in anticipation and placed his phone on the top of the table.

I was rigid, to hell with the damn cold breeze from the AC that directly came from somewhere and paralyzed the lateral side of my body. I rubbed my arms and murmured, "Yeah. Tell me something about yourself, Mr. Jung?"

"Well, my nickname is Jhope, I'm 27 years old. And I'm passionate about dancing. I'm a very shy boy at home, and my sister is just the opposite. But, I enjoy the company of my friends." He was brimming with newfound energy, I listened to everything intently, ousting my focus from his adorable habit of lifting shoulders.

I raised a hand, as my eyebrows bushed together. "You said, you have a sister? What does she do?"

He made a big zero with his mouth and flittered in his chair. "Yes. She's my elder sister. A businesswoman with a prolific and creative sense of fashion, and also runs her salon."

The last sentence ticked my mind, and then I flourished in my light-bulb-moment. "Salon? Is it unisex?"

He blinked; his mouth seamed with despondency. "No, it's only for the ladies. Although gents work there as hairdressers."

I closed my eyes and began to process the whole four-line story, and what amendments I could bring in this to make my mission successful. In a matter of good five seconds, I came up with something, "A job of a hairdresser." I continued after a pause, "I know doing woman's hair is one of the most difficult things to do in the entire world. They harp on even if one hair strand is out of place."

He hummed, imitated with his easy-going hand movements. He was a dancer after all. "That's really hard. But what about a pedicure?"

"Aye, don't you dare tell me you have a foot fetish?" I pulled out a joke as if we were besties and habitual of each other quirk, but I guess Hoseok was discomfited with my icy retort. I laughed out loud, encouraging him to laugh with me and forget about it.

He forced a smile and got into his normal composure.

"But I'm so sure that your sister's saloon is our hot spot," I predicted and narrowed my eyes at him. "Today is the day of judgment."

Just as I received an is-it nod from him, the light on carbs, and dense with protein salad came in front of me. My eyes sparkled with the thought of feeling the sesame seeds, melting with a crispy sound in my mouth. Divine.

"Enjoy your meal," the waitress said.

***

I was at pains, as I continued assaulting my wristwatch with a mocking gaze despite the beautician asking me to sit down. Hoseok who had worn an exotic pink apron was sitting on one of the couches, watching the pesky girls walk out after getting the whole makeover done.

If I went on to call her one more time, she would sense that there is something wrong.

From the vantage point, I stood against the thin glass that buffered me from the cars serving onto the road. I hung my head to look at my watch that displayed 8:43.

"We can wait for fifteen more minutes," I told him, my gruff voice as a result of staying silent for an hour or so.

Suddenly, Hoseok rose to his feet and pointed outwardly. "Hanuel! I guess that's Molan! Sapphire tuxedo." He clamped my shoulders from behind, and my muscles tensed.

Sweat trickled down my forehead, the time had ripened for the two of us to start with our play, at last. "Everyone we are starting!" I clapped my hands to alert the beauticians to do as I had told them.

I launched at one of the chairs and instructed the man with purple spikes to apply a moisturizer on my face. "Chop, chop, spikey!"

I was already watching her through the mirror and she approached me in her panache. "Hanuel, I'm sorry I got late, guess you are getting your beauty treatment."

Hoseok approached her like a ghost, "Good evening Ma'am, from a haircut, hair dying, spa services, the salon offers numerous services for its clients."

She replied, a little surprised, "No, thanks."

I whipped my head, her scent mixed with the vibrant smell in the air. "Oh, yeah. Their hands have power. We should come here often. By the way, why don't you get an experience of this?"

She took a minute to make her decision, and with all my prayers, finally took a seat next to me. "Okay, fine."

Yes. I looked over my shoulder, Hoseok was doing something with the makeup box, but his eyes were all set on Molan. I giggled and cocked my head to come onward.

Hoseok came with a set of different sizes of cream jars, swathed with the shiny labels of the unpronounceable French name, and began to place them one by one on the table. Molan did a double-take, mentally touched by his presence, from what I had assumed. "Ah, listen. I don't want a facial, but would like to get my hair trimmed in U shape."

Hoseok's jaw unhinged and that caused Molan to bat eyelashes. "What? You can't do it?"

"I'm the best." With the confidence, he had just said that to her, he cursed as he went past me.

I straightened my back and erred. Goddammit! How will get away with this?

A/n

Oh no! What will jhope
do next? I just wanted to say thanks to those who are loving all sorta love to TBHAH. I just couldn't be more grateful than this emoji 🙏

Ques of the chapter: Which was your favorite scene from "Butter MV"? I watch it for Jhope's dance in the elevator. He's made for dancing.