Jennie
I knew better than to be mad at them. They were my best friends. They were only ever looking out for me, worried about me. But I was worried about myself too; worried about my reputation, worried about my job and, most of all, worried about my heart. I always did this. I always guarded myself against any potential danger, any potential hurt. But what relationship could truly have a chance when only one party was all in?
A shrill ring brought me abruptly from my thoughts and I glanced down to see Lisa's name plastered across the incoming call. Despite myself and the night I'd had, I smiled. I could have read quite a bit into that if I'd cared to. Instead, I tapped answer and held the receiver to my ear.
"Lisa," I breathed, sounding relieved even to my own ears. She must have noticed too, it seemed to catch her off guard.
"Jennie? Is everything okay?"
I felt tears welling up in the corners of my eyes even as I nodded and answered, "Yes."
She hesitated, clearly not believing my lie. "Have you eaten?" she asked. I glanced over to my forgotten noodles and sighed.
"No," I answered. "I have not."
"I can pick you up in twenty," she said and then hung up just as abruptly as she'd called.
I stared down at my phone for a moment, processing what had just happened, and then jumped into action. I went to my closet to change but wasn't sure what I should wear. She hadn't exactly told me where we were going. I sighed. Still, I wasn't going to wear my stilettos a moment longer than I had to so I slipped out of the clothes I had worn to work and into a pair of jeans and a sweater, sliding my feet into some white converse and hoping that Lisa wasn't about to take me to another Michelin star restaurant.
Twenty minutes later on the dot, I got a text that I didn't even bother to read as I grabbed my purse and headed downstairs. Luckily, I didn't run into any of my friends in the hallway or the lobby. I knew I needed to apologize but my pride and my feelings hadn't yet fully recovered.
Once outside, I found myself glancing around for a yellow Lamborghini. Confused when I didn't see it, I looked down to check the text I hadn't bothered to read but was distracted by a horn honking at me just to my left. I looked up to see a shiny new Toyota Corolla sitting at the curb, Lisa Manoban leaning down to wave at me through the windshield. Chuckling to myself, I approached the car and climbed inside.
"What? No fancy Italian sports car today?" I asked, sliding my seatbelt over me as she pulled the eco-friendly sedan away from the curb. She smiled.
"I thought we were trying to be discreet," she reminded me, raising a brow.
"We are," I assured her, glancing around at the car so ordinary it made Lisa look somehow even more extraordinary. "So what, did you rent a Corolla?"
She chuckled at that. "If I had known you took the car I picked you up in so seriously, I would have opted for something better," she shot me a wink and I smiled. "No, I didn't rent it. It's my sister's car."
"You have a sister?" I asked, trying to ignore how eager I felt to learn just this small bit of information about her personal life.
"You didn't know? You PR people really don't do your homework, do you?"
"First of all, I'm not in PR. Secondly, it isn't my fault that every article written about you in the last ten years has been about either your arm or your love life, not your sister."
"Fair enough," she said with a laugh.
"Tell me about her, your sister."
She smiled over at me. "Alright. Well, she's a college student at UCLA. Pre-med. She always was smarter than me. Hence the Corolla."
"Regretting the Lamborghini?" I asked, raising a brow.
"I was a stupid kid with a fresh contract and a signing bonus that was more money than I'd ever seen in my life. So I blew it on a gas-guzzling sports car. I'll never forget the look on my sister's face when I pulled into the driveway. I thought she'd be excited. I thought she'd want me to take her on a joyride around the neighbourhood. Instead she was punching me in the shoulder and called me an airhead jock."
I laughed at that, "I think I might like her."
"I think you would," she told me, giving me a meaningful look from the driver's side. I turned my attention out the window, clearing my throat.
"So, where are we going? Because in case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly dressed for another five star celebrity chef restaurant."
Still smiling, she shook her head, glancing over at me and letting her gleaming eyes slide over my sweater and jeans in appraisal.
"No restaurant," she answered and then, with a raised brow, "you look good in jeans, by the way. You should opt for the casual look often."
My cheeks flamed and I turned my face to the window, choosing to stare out at the passing cars to hide my blush. How was she so good at turning me into a heartsick adolescent?
"No restaurant?" I said after a minute. "Then, where are we going to-"
"Look, I know we agreed not to tell anyone about us. For the sake of your job, I understand the need for discretion. But I'm willing to bet you've told Mino, Hoony, and Rosé so-"
"But that's-" I started defensively but she held up a hand to stop me.
"I'm not mad," she told me. "It's expected. You want to tell your friends about this." she gestured between us and smiled. I felt guilt settle into the pit of my stomach at the reminder of just why I'd chosen to flee my apartment in favour of coming out with her tonight.
"I have friends too," she said and I snapped out of my moping in an instant, intrigued.
"You do?" I asked in mock surprise and she only grinned, keeping her eyes on the road as she pulled off into a residential neighbourhood.
"Hard to believe, I know." She turned the Corolla into the driveway of the third house on the block and put it in park. I dipped my head to peer out of the windshield to the house sitting atop the small hill in front of us. It was sizeable, a large modern Spanish façade with gigantic windows and carefully preened shrubbery. Lisa was out of the car and holding my door open before I was able to tear my eyes away from the mosaic tile stones leading from the driveway to the front door. It was welcoming, inviting, but still my heart pounded against my chest at the thought of who might be waiting inside and whether or not I would be able to impress them.
I was coming to the realization that I didn't know much at all about Lisa, not truly. I knew her as Lisa Manoban, franchise quarterback of the Los Angeles Chargers professional football team. Lisa Manoban, athlete heartthrob and millionaire. Lisa Manoban, the one person who vowed never to date and yet was here with me in this quiet suburban neighbourhood, holding my hand and leading me to the door of her mysterious friend. But I hadn't known about her sister, I hadn't known about her friends. And now a panic was rising up within me as my brain spun through all of the other things I didn't know about her. I didn't know her favourite colour or what music she liked to listen to. I didn't know what her hobbies were or how much time she spent with her family.
But now she was ringing the doorbell and I forced myself to pull away from my thoughts even as one last, pervasive one remained: were my friends right?
My jaw dropped when the door opened and I saw the man smiling on the other side. Bambam Bhuwakul.
