𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐁𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞

▸ chapter 11.

Chapter 11

The soft pad of bare feet upon the polished wooden floorboards pulls Chaeyoung's attention from the tofu bacon—a cheeky indulgence—frying in the pan and she can't smother a grin as soon as she catches sight of Jennie's hair.

It's a nest first thing in the morning.

But Chaeyoung doesn't mind. She loves to comb her fingers through the darker roots to the lighter tips, gently working out the tangles, an attempt to arrange the messy waves into some semblance of order. She loves how Jennie's eyelids slide to half-mast under the attention; the quiet, throaty hum it earns; the way Jennie always pulls her in by the waist, smiling, for an unhurried kiss before Chaeyoung's done, one that deepens gradually and leaves them both panting softly into each other's mouths.

Lost in the haze of those thoughts, it takes Chaeyoung a moment to notice the downturn of Jennie's lips, the troubled furrow of her brows while she stares at her phone.

"Jennie?"

When she receives only a distracted noise in response, Chaeyoung takes the pan off the heat and switches the burner off. She crosses the kitchen and cups a gentle hand around Jennie's elbow to draw her focus.

Jennie jolts a bit at the touch.

"Is something wrong?"

"Huh? Oh." An absent shake of her head. "Sorry. It's—well, fuck." She sighs and turns the phone around. "See for yourself."

Without her glasses or contacts in, Chaeyoung has to squint and peer closer to scan the body of an email. Reads: inbound flight details from Chicago O'Hare; a reservation for the Hyatt in the city. I'm looking forward to seeing you, Jennie. It's been far too long.

Chaeyoung blinks. Lifts her gaze from the screen to watch the emotions that flit across Jennie's features in quick succession: a hint of panic, dismay, frustration, finally settling into a moue of displeasure. A full face journey worthy of Titus Andromedon.

"Your mom's coming to your degree show tomorrow?"

Jennie sags against the breakfast bar and nods.

The kitchen is quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the 'faken' still lightly sizzling in the pan.

Which makes Jennie's sudden, emphatic "fuck" all the more startling.

She tips her head back, blows out a rough breath before she looks at Chaeyoung again. A scratchy burst of morose laughter escapes her. "Didn't think she'd actually accept the invitation. I mean, shit, she made zero effort to come to any of the others."

"Jennie, maybe..." Chaeyoung wets her lips. Braces herself, knowing this suggestion probably won't be well received in her girlfriend's current mood. "Maybe she wants to make amends?"

Predictably enough, Jennie's chest puffs out as she pulls in a deep breath through her nose, about to unleash what Chaeyoung presumes will be a barrage of expletive-ridden vitriol.

"I don't know your mom," Chaeyoung says quickly, preempting the tirade, "but she's flying halfway across the country to see you." She raises her eyebrows. "Doesn't that suggest something?"

"Yeah." A sarcastic shrug. "She's willing to travel a thousand fucking miles just to satisfy her conviction that I don't have what it takes to become a successful artist."

Chaeyoung offers a highly dubious look, one that Jennie meets in challenge.

"Last time I spoke to her, we argued. She told me I was," Jennie makes air quotes, "'squandering my potential on frivolous pursuits'. Doubt she's suddenly revised her opinion."