The Babysitting Contract | j.jk

09 • zipper

◦ ◦ ◦

I feel like I'm going to melt into a sticky, hot blob of denim and cotton.

I stare at my reflection, twisting in the mirror as I take in every angle of the crisp, semi-put-together figure that stares back. When I packed for the three weeks, the last thing I expected to need was a fancy outfit, much less one to fit in amongst the high society folk who send their children to rich private schools.

As a final touch, I pull my hair back into a tight ponytail. It's not the most classy of looks but hopefully it will do something to provide some relief from this sweltering heat.

Knowing this is as good as it's ever going to get, I grab my purse and breeze out of my bedroom. I double-check it's contents as I skip down the stairs. Phone. Wallet. Parent-teacher interview form. Gum.

When I reach the landing, Jeongguk - who had been scrolling on his phone as he waits - spins to face me.

We gape at each other for a second.

Then, in unison, we snap: "what are you wearing?"

Where I'm dressed in a white shirt and jeans, Jeongguk looks like he breathes money for a living. He's wrapped up in an exquisite suit paired with a thin black turtleneck. His dark hair is fluffy and rugged, allowing for his shaven undercut to peek out underneath. Polished silver winks out at me from his throat, wrists and ears.

The sinking feeling of déjà-vu weighs in my gut.

Not again.

Jeongguk presses the pads of his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "You're helpless."

I harrumph childishly. "Well excuse me for not getting the funeral invitation. I wasn't aware we were celebrating you."

"I'm not dead."

"You're dead to me."

He pokes his tongue into his cheek. "Yes, that's real mature, Taehee. You sure you don't need to be babysat tonight, too?"

I look away. The twins are spending the evening with their grandmother and Iseul is at a friend's, leaving Jeongguk and me to take on the parent-teacher interviews together. I almost miss their shenanigans, if only because they distract me from the fact that I'm living with a complete and utter asshole.

With a sigh, Jeongguk checks the glossy surface of his watch before starting towards me.

"We have fifteen minutes," he states cooly, his hand reaching to encircle my wrist before he all but drags me back up the stairs. "Let's hope for a miracle."

He leads me down the hall of doors to his mother's bedroom, only releasing me at the doorway. I brace myself against the doorframe as I watch him move through the modern space and disappear into the monstrous walk-in closet.

Maybe he'll get lost.

No such luck.

He appears moments later with two dresses, both of which look to cost a small fortune. I freeze as he comes to stand before me, looking somewhat thoughtful. He holds out the first - a gorgeous crimson number - against me, checking for size and appearance before switching to the second - swaths of navy silk made from the night sky.

Seeming satisfied, he tosses the blue one on his mother's bed and hands me the red one.

"Put this on."

The material is smooth and luxurious between my fingertips. I know immediately I can't possibly wear something this expensive, especially because it isn't mine.