032
Jungkook had consented to her welcoming invite, agreeing to stay at her place for the rest of their date — following behind Devora in his car as she led the way.
She suggested they'd stay at her apartment, maybe order food or simply have a one-on-one conversation for the first time in a while.
It wasn't a very long drive, it actually seemed like a shorter distance compared to before, when she was making her way to the Music club.
She didn't think there was anything wrong with inviting him back to her place, it's not like either of them would try anything.
They were friends and sure she had feelings for him, but she would never do anything that she considered too provocative for just friends.
Devora thought about how impertinent and brazen she plausibly seemed to Jungkook — urging him back to her place when they weren't even a couple yet.
'What's wrong with inviting friends over?' Devora was obstinate when it came to her painstaking and intermittent thoughts, a constant inexorable voice narrating her rights from wrongs.
It was as if she had a tiny angel and devil on each of her shoulders. The angel was what any person would expect; reassuring and mollifying; informing her that she was a courteous, and supportive person to be welcoming him into her apartment.
However, on her left shoulder was a bane and heinous devil, its strenuous voice poisoning her confidence with the constant onslaught of uncertainties and records of her insecurities.
She unequivocally favored the saint on her shoulder in lieu of the scamp.
Pulling into the apartment complex, she ultimately put an end to her disputing decisions, parking her car in the same locality she constantly parked in.
Jungkook parked on the street, near the entrance of the lot.
It wasn't a very large street — a simple two-way — so he wasn't too concerned about another driving vehicle hitting his car.
They walked each other to her room, Jungkook allowing her to lead the way.
It was on the fourth floor, passing many other rooms from the other people who lived there.
Unlocking the door, she switched on the light that was beside the entrance. Brightening up her modern living room from the dark that yawned over it while she was gone.
The floors were authentic wood and it consisted of a light shade of grey, almost a charcoal white oak. It was fitting for the color of the comfortable dark peppered grey couches, and the fleecy rug beneath it to cover the wooden floor.
In front of the couches were a flat-screen TV hung up on the wall, a black wooden shelf underneath it to hold framed family photos, and a record player.
Jungkook had to admit that it was a pleasant residence, the kitchen was placed only a few feet away from behind the couches. A large kitchen island bearing the sink and other cabinets on its marbled design.
The two of them settled into her cozy home, Devora removing her leather jacket and boots to get settled in.
She set her bag down on the wall mount by the side of the door, "You can leave your things down wherever, it doesn't matter." Trying to be a good host.
Jungkook respected her clean floors, leaving his shoes by the front door near her boots.
He took a peek at her thick stack of multiple records on the shelf below the TV, learning about all the music she listened to.
His fingers pushed gently past them as he studied the artists and album covers.
'Ariana Grande, J.cole, Frank Sinatra, Muse.' Jungkook read the names in his head, fascinated by the wide variety of music she had.
It went from Pop all the way to alternative music.
He was thoroughly fascinated to discover that they shared a similar taste in music, shifting the stack of heavy records to examine more of the music she enjoyed.
She noticed Jungkook was in a squat position, looking at all of her records.
"You have so many records, it's actually impressive." He turned his head in her direction with a large grin, dazzled by the set. "We have the same taste in music, too." His doe eyes glanced at her.
"Oh, I know I've been collecting them since my first year of high school, that's why." Devora shared, sitting on the couch. "If we share the same taste in music, then your playlist must be pleasant to listen to."
He began to organize the records, leaning them against the shelf— similar to how Devora had it before he went over and prodded through them.
"Oh that's fine, don't worry about that you can just leave them, however." She pulled her legs under herself, getting comfortable.
Jungkook joined her on the other end of the couch, keeping a fair distance between each other.
"I'm sorry I had us leave the club." He keened, leaning his elbow on the top of the cushions, his body turned to face Devora.
"Don't, I completely understand why you didn't want to be there." She sieved support above his apology. "I wouldn't want to be there either if the same happened to me."
"Sorry, but can I ask exactly what she said? Something about a drink? Did she threaten you?" Devora wanted to know more about what happened.
She didn't want to provoke him by asking him the question when they were at the bar; considering that it had just happened.
Jungkook gulped, biting down on his tongue. He was reluctant to tell her exactly what Mika told him. What she offered him was utter stupidity, moreover the fact that he didn't have any idea how Devora would take it.
But, perhaps it was better if she knew?
"She just— she was throwing herself at me and she assumed that I was only with you for... well, you know." He hinted, shuffling his socks against the rug.
"Then, once she kept bringing you into it, I just got upset." He was watching the front door, eyes visibly squinting as he reimagined Mika's words as if she were there.
Devora had her hair between her two fingers, listening intently to his story, her other fingers tracing circles against her thigh.
"You must have been so uncomfortable." She had sympathy for him, recalling all the times men would give her attention in the wrong ways.
"Mostly irritated, but after, I felt kinda bad for leaving Jayce's place. It's not his fault. I just wanted to get out of there." His eyes went back for Devora's figure, regarding how engrossed she was in his story.
"I'm sure Jayce didn't take offense to you leaving, he seemed very understanding." She speculated, tilting her head to the side.
"Of course. He'd understand." Jungkook guaranteed. "But it's too bad, I did want to dance with you at some point while we were there."
Devora's shoulders pinched at his words, picking herself up from the swallowing pillows. "You dance?" Her eyes were spoiled with skepticism, her lips parting in bewilderment.
He chortled. "Yeah I dance, I dance pretty good too, honestly." He buttered his own ego, a complacent grin remained on his flushed lips.
"Uh uh, no way." Devora challenged. "I don't believe you." Her head leaned closer to him, doubt donned on her features.
"Why is that so hard to believe?" His tongue poked through the inside of his cheek, imitating Devora's movement, drawing his head closer to her.
"I don't know? I just never expected that from you." She said. "You're an amazing photographer and apparently an amazing dancer. I'd be damned if you could sing, too."
The corners of his lips pulled into a smirk, sucking them in for a moment. "I can sing, actually."
Thus he can sing and dance? At that point, it wouldn't surprise her if he could do both at the same time without running out of breath.
Even then, she didn't doubt he could probably do that, too.
"You're serious?"
He was smug. "Don't start doodling my name on your notebook." His voice was watered with confidence, causing him to look remarkably attractive.
'No, no. Let's not butter his toast.' Devora instructed herself, keeping her composure.
"Sorry, I'm more of a visual learner." She bantered, squeezing the pillow in her hand.
"Great," He bit his lower lip, "So am I." He raised his eyebrows.
She tossed the pillow at his face, an ineffective move that he caught anyway.
Devora couldn't suppress the laugh that was clawing in her throat. "You are so— you are something else, Jungkook."
He stood up, peeling off the leather jacket from his body, draping it over the arm of the couch.
His white shirt hugged tightly onto his brawny chest, the short sleeves comprising his prominent biceps.
The tattoo sleeve on his right arm was in explicit detail, each permanent pattern signifying something meaningful to him, the etched black ink curving with the shape of his arm.
Devora cursed at herself once she noticed that his expression was exultant and smug from her gawking eyes.
He allowed her to feast on his body with her eyes, her cheeks dressing in pink, shoving her eyes aside to look somewhere else.
His black jeans managed to shelter over the muscles on his quads and hamstrings, his smaller waist was emphatically displayed by his leather belt.
His ebony eyes operated its very own twilight sky, blinking stars gleaming within his powerful stare.
His body moved gracefully through the room, painfully comparable to an elegant swan gliding blissfully in a dark green cyan lake.
"W-what are you doing?" Devora tried to suppress the tension that strapped down in her esophagus, failing miserably.
Her forehead was nearly beaming in perspiration, watching him pull out a blue record from the shelf.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" Voice husky as he removed the black circular disk from its cover, placing it on the mouth of the open record player.
Gently, he placed the needle down on the disk, static crackling through the speakers like an old-fashioned song would.
His fingers reached for the light switch by the front door, smoothly dragging the piece down to dim the lightning.
He stepped over to her, his narrowed velvet black eyes were cat-like, swift, and agile as they raced above her stunned figure—- looking at her like she was prey.
Though it was partly dim, his pointed cheeks and bronzed skin still radiated, acting as a beam of light.
He stood above her solid body with his right hand out, asking for her assistance.
His voice was a stern whisper, dissolving through her ears like a liquefying candle. "May I have this dance, princess?"
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