16 | a minimal mistake

Start from the beginning

"I don't," she shrugged, "A lucky guess?"

I press my lips. "Alright," Iseul said, blowing the strands of hair that fell from the side of her face and flipped her pretty, long auburn hair, "I know for a fact that you suck at lying. Plus," she continued, staring at me pointedly, "I'm your only friend. Remember?"

At this, a cringe scrunched up my face, and I was suddenly reminded of the bitter fact that I was a good for nothing teenager who spent most of her time curled under the sheets, blatantly ignoring the outside world and any means of communication. It was only Iseul who I approved of, and she was the only one who knew why I intended to be that way. And maybe my mom did have something to do with it, but that was a long time ago—there was no point, by any means, in dwelling on it.

And yet, the hurt that rippled my chest says otherwise.

A beat picked up, and I stared at Iseul before sighing, "Right. It's Jungkook. We were hanging out."

At this, Iseul raised her brow, "I think your idea of hanging out has changed." Proceeding to taunt me, she pointed at my neck, which was exposed out in the open and said, "Didn't know you two could be so...naughty."

I went red. So red, in fact, that I could feel every being of my body turning warm. Every last bit of my dignity was shredded and thrown away like ashes. And yet strangely, I didn't...dislike it?

"Keep those love bites to a minimum," she said, the smirk on her lips turning into a full blown grin. "You have hickeys on your neck, honey."

And then Han Iseul turned and left, her long skirt swirling around with her body, before the click-clack of her heels faded to the kitchen leaving me with a red face and a confused heart.

▁▁▁▁▁

Tuesday rolled around so quickly like a rhythm—so smooth and steady—and yet, by the time the awaited day had reached me, I still couldn't seem to comprehend it was there. And that it meant I was going on another war today. But maybe because it was the truth, after all: that I was completely unprepared.

Unprepared, in a sense that, I literally have nothing to wear, and that I've been cooped up since Monday in the space and solemness of my own room. The premise was simple: I had sent the first draft of my manuscript to Lia, under the surge of some magical inspiration to write a somehow...passable romantic scene but by the time my phone chimed announcing that I received a message, only then was I able to find the time (it was nearly afternoon now), and a text that Jungkook first sent me since Sunday.

So, really, one couldn't blame me for the arising panic that settled in me. Nor the skipping beats that my heart had been incessantly doing for the last few minutes. And no, it was not because I somehow developed a crush on a narcissistic bastard (I barely even know him), but because I was embarrassed by what we had unceremoniously done on Sunday.

Still, I guess it was fine. Because I'd definitely demand an explanation from him one way or another when he arrives at my doorstep. But first and foremost: what do I wear?

Deciding that I didn't care, and that it was only Jungkook I'll be seeing and not Lee Min Ho, I threw on casual clothes. Decent enough for a date, I guess. Time passed too quickly and treacherously, because the door bell had rung right after I threw on a pair of boots and was hastily throwing in important stuff inside my purse—like pepper spray—for, you know, safety purposes.

The door bell rang once, then twice, thrice, until it was just pure pressing repeatedly without a care despite my shouts of "Coming!" and several other insults. Alas, when I was done fixing my hair, I practically ran and haphazardly threw the door open with me breathing heavily from all the activity.

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