#//yes i use the 24h clock - how could you tell

[elsannej]

Shadow grew up with the 24h hour system on the ARK and specifically military time. He still says: "We'll be leaving at fifteen hundred hours" etc. (Rouge's gotten used to military time because of G.U.N. but she still had to do a double take when she heard "ten ough five hours" for the first time in casual conversation.) Shadow's slowly letting go of this habit, opting for the more casual "quarter past fourteen" or "ten minutes to fifteen" when it's not top of the hour.

Omega's inner clock is a 24h one. But he doesn’t verbalize it in military time like Shadow, instead phasing it more coherently, if not overtly exact: "IT IS ALREADY FOURTEEN THIRTY-EIGHT" or "NOW IT IS FIFTEEN ELEVEN. GET A MOVE ON". He had to be nagged at told to not include the seconds (and especially not the milliseconds) when being asked for the time, but he'll sometimes still do it to be annoying on purpose.

Rouge uses AM/PM "like normal people". Shadow and Omega give her shit for it.

[mrkwonandmrchoibabygirl]

NOW~G-Dragon Pt.27

Genre:Angst/SMUT last part of first book

Rated:NSFW

Pairing: GD X Reader

wordcount:17,850 

Masterlist

DISCLAIMER!:remember this is just an edit of an original book called after by anna todd i do not own this book!

A/N IF YOU WANT FIRST CHAPTER OF THE SECOND BOOK by TOMORROW I WANT 100 NOTES WITHIN 24H

We haven’t moved from our spot in the chair for at least thirty minutes, when finally Jiyong lifts his head from my chest and says, “Can I eat now?”

“Yes.” I give him a weak smile and start to climb off his lap, but he pulls me back.

“I didn’t say for you to move. Just slide my plate over.” He smiles.

I slide his plate over and reach for mine across the small table. I am still reeling from this new information and now I feel a little uneasy about going to the wedding in the morning.

Sensing Jiyong doesn’t want to discuss his confession further, I take a bite off my plate and say, “You are a much better cook than I expected. Having shown your hand, I expect you’ll cook for me more often.”

“We will see,” he says with his mouth full and we eat the rest of the meal in a comfortable silence.

Later, when I’m loading the dishwasher, he walks up behind me and asks, “Are you still mad?”

“Not exactly,” I tell him. “I am still not happy about you being out all night, and I do want to know who you fought, and why.” He opens his mouth to speak, but I stop him. “But not tonight.” I don’t think either of us can handle any more tonight.

“Okay,” he says softly. Worry flashes in his eyes but I choose to let it go.

“Oh, and I didn’t appreciate you throwing my internship in my face, either. That really hurt my feelings.”

“I know. That’s why I said it,” he answers, a little too honestly.

“I know. That’s exactly why I don’t like it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do it again, okay?” I tell him and he nods. “I’m exhausted,” I groan in a small attempt to change the subject.

“Me, too; let’s lie down for the rest of the evening. I got the cable turned on.”

“I was supposed to be doing that.” I scowl at him.

He rolls his eyes and sits next to me on the bed. “You can just give me the money for it . . .”

I stare at the wall. “What time are we leaving here tomorrow for the wedding?”

“Whenever we feel like it.”

“It starts at three, so I think we should be there by two,” I say.

“An hour early?” he whines and I nod. “I don’t know why you insist—” he says but is cut off by my phone ringing.

The look on Jiyong’s face as he leans over and grabs it tells me immediately who it is. “Why is he calling?” he huffs.

“I don’t know, Jiyong, but I think I should answer.” I grab the phone from his hand.

“Hoseok?” My voice is soft and shaky as Jiyong’s glower burns a hole through the apartment.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m sorry to call you on a Friday night but . . . well . . .” He sounds panicked.

“What?” I push, since he always takes longer than necessary to explain stressful situations.

When I look over to Hardin he mouths, “Speaker.”

I give him an are-you-kidding look, but end up putting Hoseok on speaker anyway so Jiyong can eavesdrop.

“Your mom got a call from the dorm supervisor about your final bill being paid for the room, so she knows you moved out. I told her I have no idea where you live now, which is the truth, but she refused to believe me. And so she’s coming there.”

“Coming here? To campus?”

“Yeah, I guess. I don’t know, but she said she’s going to find you, and she’s being irrational and is really pissed-off. I just wanted to warn you, you know, that she’s coming.”

“I can’t believe her!” I shout into the phone, but then thank Hoseok before hanging up.

I lie back on the bed. “Great . . . What an excellent way to spend tonight.”

Jiyong leans on one elbow next to me. “She won’t be able to find you. No one knows where we live,” he assures me and smooths my bangs off my forehead.

“She may not find me, but she sure will pester Hyuna and ask every single person she sees in the dorm and make a huge scene.” I cover my face with my hands. “I should just go over there.”

“Or you could call her and give her our address and let her come here. On your territory, so you have the upper hand,” he suggests.

“You’re okay with that?” My hands move from my face.

“Of course. She’s your mother, Y/N.”

I look at him quizzically, given the rift between him and his dad. But when I see he’s serious, I’m reminded that he’s willing to work on things with his parents, so I should be that brave, too. “I’ll call her,” I say.

I look at the phone for a while before taking a deep breath and hitting her number. She’s terse on the phone, speaking very quickly. I can tell she’s saving all her hateful energy for when she sees me in person. I don’t give her any details about the apartment or tell her that I live here; I only tell her the address where I am and get off the phone as fast as I can.

Instinctively, I jump out of bed and begin to straighten up our place.

“The apartment is already clean. We have barely touched anything,” Jiyong says.

“I know,” I say. “But it makes me feel better.”

After I fold and put away the few items of clothing that were on the floor, I light a candle in the living room and wait at the table with Jiyong for my mother to show. I shouldn’t be as nervous as I am—I’m an adult and I make my own choices—but I know her and how badly she’s going to lose it. I am already overly emotional from the brief glimpse into Jiyong’s past I was granted an hour ago, and I don’t know if I have it in me to go to battle with her tonight. I look over at the clock and see it’s already eight. Hopefully she won’t stay long, and Jiyong and I can get to bed early and just hold each other while we each try to deal with our family legacies.

“Do you want me to stay out here with you or give you two some time to discuss everything?” Jiyong asks after a bit.

“I think we should have a little time one-on-one,” I say. As much as I want him by my side, I know that his presence will antagonize her.

“Wait . . . I just remembered something Hoseok said. He said the final bill for my dorm was paid.” I look at him questioningly.

“Yeah . . . so?”

“You paid it, didn’t you!” I half-shout. Despite my energy, it’s not really out of anger, just surprise and annoyance.

“So . . .” He shrugs.

“ Jiyong! You have got to stop spending money on me; it makes me uncomfortable.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is. It wasn’t that much,” he argues.

“What are you like secretly rich or something? Are you selling drugs?”

“No, I just saved up a lot of money and don’t really spend it. I lived entirely for free last year while I worked, so my paychecks just kept piling up. I never really had anything to spend money on . . . but now I do.” He smiles wide. “And I like spending it on you, so don’t fight me over it.”

“You’re lucky my mother is on her way and I only have it in me to go to war with one of you,” I tease and he lets out a long chuckle that fades until we’re just sitting, holding hands and waiting.

A few minutes later there is a knock . . . well, a pounding at the door.

Jiyong stands. “I’ll be right in the other room. I love you.” He gives me a swift kiss before exiting.

I fill my lungs with the deepest breath I can manage and open the door. My mother looks eerily perfect, as always. Not a single smudge mars her heavily made-up eyes, her red lipstick is smooth and silky, her blond hair is neatly piled almost in a halo around her head.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing moving out of that dorm without telling me!” she shouts without introduction and pushes past me into the apartment.

“You didn’t give me much of a choice,” I counter, then focus on breathing in and out to stay as calm as I can.

She spins back to glare at me. “Excuse me? How did I not give you a choice?”

“You threatened to not help me pay for my dorm,” I remind her and cross my arms.

“So, I gave you a choice, but you made the wrong one,” she snaps.

“No, you’re the one who’s wrong here.”

“Listen to you! Look at you. You aren’t the same Y/N that I dropped off at college three months ago.” She waves her arms to gesture up and down my body. “You are defying me, even yelling at me! You have some nerve! I have done everything for you, and here you are . . . throwing it all away.”

“I am not throwing anything away! I have an excellent internship that pays me very well; I have a car, and a four-point-oh grade point average. What more could you possibly want from me?” I shout back.

Her eyes light up from the challenge, and her voice is full of venom as she says, “Well, for starters, you could have at least changed your clothes before I came. Honestly, Y/N, you look like hell.” As I look down at my pajamas, she switches to a new criticism. “And what is this . . . you wear makeup now? Who are you? You’re not my Y/N, that is for certain. My Y/N wouldn’t be hanging out in some devil worshipper’s apartment in her pajamas on a Friday night.”

“Do not speak about him that way,” I say through my teeth. “I have already warned you.”

My mother squints her eyes and cackles. Her head falls back in laughter, and I fight the urge to smack her across her perfectly painted-on face. I immediately cringe at my violent thoughts, but she’s pushing me too far.

“And another thing,” I say slowly, calmly, to make sure I deliver the pronouncement just so. “This isn’t just his apartment. It is our apartment.”

And just like that, I get her to stop laughing.

This woman I’ve lived with values her sense of control so much that there are few times I’ve managed to surprise her, let alone stun her. But here, I have really, truly stunned my mother. Her posture is erect and her face has fallen.

“What did you just say?” she asks slowly.

“You heard me. This is our apartment��as in, we both live here.” I put my hands on my hips for dramatic effect.

“There is no way that you live here. You can’t afford a place like this!” she scoffs.

“Would you like to see our lease? Because I have a copy.”

“This whole situation is even worse than I thought . . .” she says, then shifts her eyes to stare behind me, as if I’m not even worth looking at while she calculates her formula for my life. “I knew you were being foolish by messing around with that . . . that boy. But you are just plain stupid for moving in with him! You don’t even know him! You haven’t met his parents—aren’t you embarrassed to be seen in public with him?”

My anger boils over. I glance at the wall, trying to gather some composure, but it’s too much and before I can stop myself, I am in her face. “How dare you come into my home and insult him! I know him better than anyone, and he knows me better than you ever could! And I have actually met his family, his father at least. You want to know who his father is? He’s the goddamn chancellor of SCU!” I scream. “That should satisfy your sad little judgmental streak.”

I hate throwing Jiyong’s father’s title around, but this is the type of thing that would jolt her.

Probably because he heard the break in my voice, Jiyong comes out of the bedroom with a worried expression. He comes over and stands beside me and tries to pull me back from my mother, just like last time.

“Oh, great! And here’s the man of the hour,” my mother mocks, and gestures wildly at him. “His father is not the chancellor.” She half-laughs.

My face is red and soaked with tears, but I couldn’t care less. “Yes, he is. Shocked? If you weren’t so busy being a judgmental bitch, you could have talked to him and found that out. You know what? You don’t even deserve to know him. He has been there for me in ways you never were, and there is nothing—and I mean nothing—you can do to keep me away from him!”

“You do not speak to me that way!” she screams and steps closer. “You think just because you got yourself a fancy little apartment and put some eyeliner on that you are suddenly a woman? Honey, I hate to break it to you, but you look like a whore, living with someone at eighteen!”

Jiyong’s eyes narrow at her in warning, but she ignores him.

“You better end this before you lose your virtue, Y/N. Just take a look in the mirror, then look at him! You two look ridiculous together; you had Hoseok, who was great for you, and you threw him out for . . . this!” She gestures to Jiyong.

“Hoseok has nothing to do with this,” I say.

Jiyong’s jaw clenches and I silently beg him not to say anything.

“Hoseok loves you, and I know you love him. Now stop this rebellious charade and come with me. I will get you back into your dorm, and Hoseok will certainly forgive you.” She reaches a hand out authoritatively, as if I’ll take it and stroll out of here with her.

I grab the bottom of my shirt with my fists. “You are so insane. Honestly, Mother, listen to yourself! I don’t want to come with you. I live here with Jiyong and I love him. Not Hoseok. I care for Hoseok, but it was only your influence that made me think I loved him because I felt like I should. I am sorry, but I love Jiyong and he loves me.”

“Y/N! He doesn’t love you—he is only going to stay around until he gets into your pants. Open your eyes, little girl!”

Something about the way she just called me “little girl” sends me over the edge.

“He has already gotten into my pants, and guess what! He’s still around!” I shout. Jiyong and my mother share the same shocked expression, but my mother’s turns to disgust while Jiyong’s turns to a sympathetic frown.

“I’ll tell you one thing, Y/N. When he breaks your heart and you have nowhere to go . . . you better not come to me.”

“Oh, trust me, I wouldn’t. This is why you’ll always be alone. You have no control over me anymore—I am an adult. Just because you couldn’t control my father doesn’t give you the right to try to control me!” As soon as the words leave my mouth I regret them. I know bringing my father into this is low, too low. Before I can apologize, I feel her hand connect with my cheek. The shock is more painful than the assault.

Jiyong steps between us and puts his hand on her shoulder. My face stings and I bite my lip to keep from crying harder.

“If you don’t get the fuck out of our apartment, I will call the police,” he warns her. The calm tone of his voice sends chills down my spine, and I notice my mother shiver, his tone clearly unnerving her, too.

“You wouldn’t.”

“You just put your hands on her, right in front of me, and you think I wouldn’t call the police on you? If you weren’t her mum, I would do much worse than that. Now you have five seconds to get out,” he says, and I stare at my mother with wide eyes and bring my hand to my burning skin.

I don’t like the way he threatened her, but I want her to leave. After a challenging staring match between the two of them, Jiyong growls, “Two seconds.”

She huffs and heads toward the door, the loud clamor of her heels echoing off the concrete floor.

“I hope you’re happy with your decision, Y/N,” she says and slams the door.

Jiyong’s arms wrap around me in the most comforting and reassuring embrace, and it’s exactly what I need right now.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he says into my hair.

“I’m sorry that she said those terrible things about you.” My need to defend him is stronger than any concern for myself or my mother.

“Shh. Don’t worry about me. People say shit about me all the time,” he reminds me.

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“Y/N, please don’t worry about me right now. What do you need? Can I do anything for you?” he asks.

“Maybe some ice?” I choke.

“Sure, baby.” He kisses my forehead and walks over to the fridge.

I knew her coming here wouldn’t end well, but I hadn’t expected it to be as bad as it was. On one hand I am beyond proud of myself for standing up to her, but at the same time I feel terribly guilty for what I said about my father. I know it wasn’t her fault that he left, and it’s never been lost on me that she’s been terribly lonely for the last eight years. She has never even gone on a date since him; she’s dedicated all of her time to me, grooming me into the woman she wanted me to be. She wants me to be just like her, and that just isn’t going to work for me. I respect her and how hard she worked, but I need to carve my own path and she has to see that she can’t make up for her mistakes through me. I make too many of my own mistakes for that to work, anyway. I wish she could be happy for me and see how much I love Jiyong. I know his appearance shocks her, but if she would just take the time to try to get to know him, I’m sure she would love him as much I do.

As long as he could contain his rudeness . . . which isn’t likely, but I have noticed the small changes in him. Like the way he holds my hand in public and the way he leans down to kiss me nearly every time I pass him in the hallway of our apartment. Maybe I am the only person he will ever let inside, the only one who he reveals secrets to, and the only one he loves, but that’s fine with me. To be honest, the selfish part of me kind of enjoys it.

Jiyong pulls the chair out next to me and puts the makeshift ice pack against my cheek. The soft kitchen towel wrapped around it feels great against my sensitive skin.

“I can’t believe she smacked me,” I say slowly. The towel drops onto the tile floor and he reaches down to pick it up.

“Me either. I thought I was going to lose it,” he says and looks into my eyes.

“I thought you were too,” I admit and give him a weak smile.

I feel like today has been dragging on for too long; it has been the longest and most draining day of my life. I’m exhausted and I just want to be carried away. Preferably into bed with Jiyong, to forget about the downfall of my relationship with my mother.

“I love you too much, or trust me, I would have.” He smiles back and kisses both of my closed eyelids.

I choose to believe that he wouldn’t actually do anything to her, that he is just speaking metaphorically. Somehow I know that even through all his rage he wouldn’t do something terrible, and that makes me love him more. I have come to learn that when it comes to me, Jiyong is more bark than bite.

“I really want to go to bed,” I tell him and he nods.

“Of course.”

I pull the blanket back before lying on my side of the bed. “Do you think she will always be this way?” I ask Jiyong.

He shrugs, tossing a spare pillow onto the floor. “I would say no, that people change and mature. But I don’t want to get your hopes up.”

I lie down on my stomach, burying my face in my pillow.

“Hey,” Jiyong says softly against my neck, trailing a finger down the curve of my back. I roll over, sighing as I take in the concern in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” I lie. I need a distraction. I lift my hand to his face, brushing my thumb over the curve of his full lips. I tilt the metal ring to the side and he smiles.

“Having fun staring at me like I’m some science experiment?” he teases.

I nod, wiggling the metal between my fingers and using my other hand to touch the ring in his brow.

“Good to know.” He rolls his eyes and takes my thumb between his teeth before I can pull away. I jerk back, hitting my hand against the headboard.

I move to swat at him, the way I often do, and he grabs my sore hand between both of his and brings it to his mouth. I pout playfully until his tongue swirls around the tip of my index finger in the most provocative way. He continues this across each fingertip until I’m a panting, needy mess—How does he do this? Such odd acts of affection from him affect me so intensely.

“Feel good?” he asks, dropping my hand onto my lap. I nod again, at a loss for words. “Want more?” He swipes his tongue across his lips, wetting them. I nod again.

“Words, baby,” he insists.

“Yes. More, please.” My brain clearly doesn’t work. I lean into him, needing his touch, needing him to continue the distraction. He shifts on the bed, tugging at the strings of my pajama pants with one hand and pushing his hair back from his forehead with the other. My panties are pulled down and left at my ankles as my pants hit the floor. He leans in, settling between my spread thighs.

“Did you know that the clitoris on the female body was made strictly for pleasure? It has no purpose beyond that,” he informs me, pressing his thumb against the bud. I groan, pushing my head into the pillow. “It’s true; I read it somewhere.”

“Playboy?” I tease, struggling to form a thought, let alone words.

He seems to find that amusing and he smirks while lowering his head. The moment his tongue finds my sex, I grip at the sheets and he works quickly, combining his fingers with his perfect mouth. I push my hands into his hair, silently thanking whoever it was who discovered this knowledge as Jiyong brings me to orgasm, twice.

Jiyong holds me tight all night long and whispers how much he loves me. As I start to drift off, I think about the day we just had: my relationship with my mother is damaged, possibly beyond repair, and Jiyong shared more information about his childhood with me.

My dreams are clouded by a scared little asian boy crying out for his mother.

THE NEXT MORNING I am pleased to see that my mother’s assault has not left any visible marks. My chest still hurts from the collapse of our already crumbling relationship, but I refuse to dwell on that today.

I take a shower and curl my hair, pinning it up so it isn’t in my way as I apply my makeup and pull Jiyong’s shirt from yesterday over my head. I put little kisses all over Jiyong ’s shoulders and ears to wake him up, and when my stomach grumbles I pad into the kitchen to make us some breakfast. I want to start the day in the best way I can so we can both remain happy and calm before the wedding. By the time I finish my self-imposed kitchen therapy, I am pretty proud of the meal I have prepared. The counter is filled with bacon, eggs, toast, pancakes, and even hash browns. I made way too much food for the two of us, but Jiyong usually eats an enormous amount anyway, so there shouldn’t be too much left.

I feel strong arms wrap around my waist. “Whoa . . . what is all this?” he asks in a raspy, sleep-filled voice. “This is exactly why I wanted to live together,” he says into my neck.

“Why? So I could make you breakfast?” I laugh.

“No . . . well, yes. That and waking up to seeing you half dressed in the kitchen.” He nips at my neck. He attempts to lift up the hem of the T-shirt and squeeze the top of my thighs.

I spin and wave a spatula in his face. “Hands to yourself until after breakfast, Kwon.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckles and grabs a plate, piling it with food.

After breakfast, I force Jiyong to take a shower despite his efforts to drag me back to the bed. His dark confession and the fight with my mother seem to be forgotten in the morning light. My breath is lost in my chest when Jiyong walks out of the bedroom in his outfit for the wedding. The black dress pants are snug but hang off his hips in the most delicious way, and his tie is hanging around his neck while his white button-down shirt is undone, revealing his gorgeous, toned torso.

“I . . . uhh . . . I actually have no idea how to tie a tie.” He shrugs.

My mouth is dry and I can’t stop staring at him, so I choke out, “I can help you.” Thankfully, Jiyong doesn’t ask where I learned to tie a tie, since his mood would turn sour quickly at the mention of Hoseok. “You look so handsome,” I tell him when I finish. He shrugs and puts the black jacket on, completing the look.

His cheeks flame and I can’t help but laugh at the unexpected emotion. I can tell he feels completely out of his element being dressed this way—and it’s adorable.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” he asks.

“I was waiting until the last minute, since my dress is all white,” I tell him and he mocks me playfully.

Finally, after another check of my makeup and grabbing my shoes, I do put the dress on. It’s even shorter than I remember, but Jiyong seems to approve. His eyes never leave my chest after catching sight of my strapless bra. He always makes me feel so beautiful and wanted.

“As long as all the men there are my father’s age, we shouldn’t have a problem.” He smirks and zips me up. I roll my eyes and he kisses my bare shoulder before I unclip my hair, letting my long curls fall down my shoulders. The pale fabric of the dress is tight against my body, and I smile at the reflection of Jiyong and me in the mirror.

“You are absolutely stunning,” he tells me, kissing me again.

We scramble around and make sure we have everything we need for the wedding, including the invitation and a congratulations card I bought. As I put my phone into a small clutch bag, Jiyong grabs me by the waist.

“Smile,” he says and pulls out his phone.

“I thought you didn’t take pictures.”

“I told you I would take one, so let’s take one.” His smile is goofy and youthful and it makes my heart swell.

I smile and lean into Hardin as he snaps our picture. “One more,” he instructs and I stick my tongue out at the last moment. He captured it at the right moment, my tongue on his cheek and his eyes wide and full of humor.

“That’s my favorite,” I tell him.

“There are only two.”

“Yeah, but still.” I kiss him and he snaps another.

“Accident,” he lies, and I hear him take another as I give him a look.

NEAR HIS FATHER’S HOUSE, Jiyong stops to get gas so we don’t have to on the way home. As he is filling up, a familiar car pulls into the parking lot, with Daesung in the front seat. Seungri parks his car two pumps over from Jiyong’s and gets out to go inside.

I gasp when I get a good look at him: his lip is swollen, and both his eyes are black and blue. His cheek has a deep purple bruise, and when he notices Jiyong’s car a furious scowl takes over his handsome, damaged face. What the hell? He doesn’t say anything at all, or even acknowledge Jiyong and me. Within seconds, Jiyong climbs back into the car and takes my hand. I look down at our intertwined fingers and gasp, my eyes trailing over his busted knuckles.

“You!” I say and he raises his brow. “You beat him up, didn’t you? That’s who you fought and that’s why he just ignored us!”

“Would you calm down?” Jiyong barks and rolls up my window before pulling out of the lot.

“ Jiyong . . .” I look over to where Seungri has disappeared inside, then back at Hardin.

“Can we please talk about it after the wedding? I’m already on edge. Please?” he begs and I nod.

“Fine. After the wedding,” I agree and gently squeeze the hand of his that did so much damage to my friend.

Clearly trying to change the subject, Jiyong asks, “So now that we have our own place, I assume you don’t want to stay at my father’s house tonight still?”

I force Seungri’s beaten face to the back of my mind. “You’d assume correctly.” I smile. “Unless Karen asks us to; you know I won’t say no,” I tell him.

I am nervous to see Ken after what Jiyong told me last night. I am trying to clear it from my mind, but it’s harder to accomplish than I thought.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he says and reaches for the radio.

I look over at him and he holds his finger up to tell me to wait. “I decided to give the Fray another try,” he informs me.

“Really? And when did you decide this?” I question.

“Well, after our first date at the stream, but I didn’t open the CD until last week,” he admits.

“That was not a date,” I tease and he chuckles.

“You let me finger you. I would say that’s a date.”

He grabs my hand as I try to swat him and kisses my palm. I giggle and wrap my fingers around his slender ones. Images of me lying on the wet T-shirt while Jiyong gave me my first orgasm flood my thoughts and Jiyong smirks.

“That was fun, huh?” he boasts and I laugh.

“Anyway, tell me your evolved opinion on the Fray,” I request.

“Well, they are not so bad, actually. There is one song that really sticks with me.”

Now I am even more curious. “Really?”

“Yeah . . .” he says and his eyes flicker to the road before he presses the button on his radio. Music floods through the small space and I immediately smile.

“It’s called ‘Never Say Never,’ ” Jiyong says, as if it’s new information to me and not already one of my favorites.

We listen to the lyrics silently and I can’t fight the silly grin on my face. I know he is slightly embarrassed by playing this song for me, so I don’t discuss it. I simply enjoy this tender moment with Jiyong.

The rest of the drive is filled with Jiyong flipping through songs on the album, telling me what he thinks of each one. This small but meaningful gesture means more to me than he will ever know. I love these moments when he shows me a new side of himself. This side is one of my new favorites.

When we arrive at his father’s house, the street is full of cars. Stepping out, I feel the crisp wind blow through me, and I shiver. The thin jacket I wore over my dress doesn’t offer me and my small dress much protection, really. Jiyong shrugs out of his jacket and lays it over my shoulders. It’s surprisingly warm and smells like him, my favorite scent.

“Well . . . look at you being such a gentleman. Who would have thought?” I tease.

“Don’t make me take you back to the car and fuck you,” he says, and I make a noise between a gasp and squeak, which he finds very amusing. “Do you think you have room in that . . . purse thing . . . to hold my phone?” he asks.

“It’s a clutch, and yes.” I smile and hold my hand out. He places the phone in my palm, and as I push it into the small purse, I notice his background is no longer plain gray. The small screen holds the picture of me that he snapped while I was talking to him in the room. My lips are slightly parted and my eyes are full of life. My cheeks have a warm glow; it’s strange to see myself that way. This is what he does to me—he makes me come alive.

“I love you,” I tell him and close the bag without putting him on the spot about his new background.

Inside, Ken and Karen’s large house is full of people, and Jiyong grips my hand tightly after retrieving his jacket and putting it back on.

“Let’s try to find Tae,” I suggest.

Jiyong gives me a nod and leads the way. We end up finding his stepbrother in the living room next to the china cabinet that replaced the one Jiyong broke the first night I came here. Which seems so long ago. Tae is surrounded by a group of men who all look to be at least sixty, and one of them has his hand on Tae’s shoulder. A smile appears on his face when he spots us, and he excuses himself from their conversation. He looks very handsome in a suit similar to Jiyong’s.

“Whoa, I never thought I’d live to see you in a suit and tie.” Taeyang laughs.

“If you keep talking about it, you won’t live much longer,” Jiyong threatens, but there’s humor behind his words as he smiles. I can tell he is warming up to Tae, and that makes me happy. Tae is one of my closest friends, and I really care for him.

“My mother will be thrilled. And Y/N, you look beautiful,” he says and pulls me in for a hug. Jiyong doesn’t let go of my hand while I try to hug Tae back, so I do my best with one arm.

“Who are all these people?” I ask. I know Ken and Karen have been here only a little over a year, so it’s astounding that there are at least two hundred people here.

“Most of them are Ken’s friends from the university, and the rest are friends and family. I only know about half of them.” He laughs. “Would you guys like a drink? Everyone will be going outside in about ten minutes.”

“Whose bright idea was it to have an outdoor wedding in December?” Jiyong complains.

“My mother’s,” Tae says. “Besides, the tents are heated, obviously.” He looks around at the crowd, then back at Jiyong . “You should go let your father know that you are here. He’s upstairs. My mother is hiding somewhere with my aunt.”

“Um . . . I think I’ll just stay down here,” Jiyong replies.

I caress his hand with my thumb; he gives me an appreciative squeeze, and Tae nods. “Well, I have to go for now, but I will see you after,” he says and leaves us with a smile.

“Do you want to go outside now?” I ask Jiyong and he nods. “I love you,” I tell him.

He smiles, full dimples. “I love you, Y/N,” he says and plants a kiss on my cheek.

Jiyong opens the back door and gives me his jacket once again. Stepping out, I see that the backyard has been wonderfully transformed. Two large tents take up most of the yard, and hanging from the trees and the patio are hundreds of small glowing lanterns. Even in the daylight, they are beautiful, and it’s all quite a sight to behold.

“I think it’s this one,” Jiyong says and gestures to the smaller of the two tents.

We squeeze through the part in the flaps, and indeed he is right. Rows of wooden chairs face a simple altar, with beautiful white flowers hung on some walls and all the guests in black-and-white attire. About half the seats are full, so we take a seat in the second-to-last row, because I know Jiyong doesn’t want to be up close.

“I never thought I would be attending my father’s wedding,” he says to me.

“I know. I am incredibly proud of you for coming. It will mean so much to them. It maybe sounds like you think it will be good for you, too.” I lean my head on his shoulder, and he snakes his arm around me.

We begin to talk about the beautiful way this tent has been decorated, in all black and white. Simple and elegant. Its simplicity makes me feel even more like I’ve been invited to an intimate, personal moment in his family, despite the large number of guests.

“I guess the reception is in the other tent?” he says and twirls a piece of my hair between his thumb and index finger.

“I think so. I bet it’s even more beautiful than—”

“Jiyong? Is that you?” a woman’s voice says. We both turn our heads to the left. An elderly woman in a black-and-white floral dress and flat shoes stares at us with wide eyes. “Oh my heavens, it is you!” she gasps. Her black hair is swept back into a simple bun, and her minimal makeup makes her look healthy, radiant.

For his part, all the color has drained from Jiyong’s face as he stands up and greets her. “Gammy.”

She pulls him in for a tight hug. “I can’t believe you’re here. I haven’t seen you in years. Look at you, you handsome boy. Well, man, now. I can’t believe how tall you are! And what are these?” She scowls and points at his facial piercings.

He flushes and gives out an uncomfortable laugh. “How have you been?” he asks her and shifts back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“I am good, dear—I’ve missed you so much,” she says and pats the corners of her eyes. After a beat, she dramatically looks around him at me and asks with notable interest, “And who is this lovely young woman?”

“Oh . . . sorry. This is Y/N . . . Y/N. My . . . girlfriend,” he answers. “Y/N, this is my gammy . . . my grandma.”

I smile and stand up. The thought of meeting Jiyong’s grandparents had never crossed my mind. I had assumed they were dead, like mine. He has never brought them up, but that isn’t surprising. I suppose I haven’t, either.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” I say to her and reach to shake her hand, but she has other plans and pulls me in for a hug and kisses my cheek.

“The pleasure is all mine. What a beautiful girl you are!” she says in an accent even thicker than Hardin’s. “My name is Adele, but you will call me Gammy.”

“Thank you,” I say, blushing.

She claps her hands in glee. “I just can’t believe you are here. Have you seen your father recently? Does he know you are here?” she asks, looking back at Jiyong.

Jiyong bashfully puts his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, he knows. I have sort of been coming here lately.”

“Well, that is so great to hear. I had no idea,” she says and I can tell she is on the brink of tears again.

“Okay, everyone, if you could all take a seat, the ceremony will begin shortly,” a man with a microphone says from the raised platform up front.

Gammy pulls Jiyong by the arm before he can protest. “Come sit with the family—you two shouldn’t be all the way back here.” He looks back at me and gives me a look that says “help me,” but I just smile and follow them to the front. We take a seat next to someone who looks a lot like Karen and I assume is her sister. Jiyong takes my hand in his, and his grandmother looks down and smiles at our affection before putting her hand on his other one. He stiffens a little but doesn’t remove it.

Ken walks to his place, and the look on his face when he spots his son sitting in the front row is indescribable: heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time. Jiyong even gives him a small smile, which Ken happily returns. Tae stands next to Ken on the stage, but Jiyong doesn’t seem to mind; he would never have agreed to be up there anyway.

When Karen enters, a collective sigh sounds through the room. She looks so beautiful as she walks down the aisle. Her face when she spots her groom makes me lean into Jiyong’s shoulder. Happiness is radiating off of her, and her smile lights up the tent. Her dress is brushing against the floor, and her cheeks are glowing, adding to the ambience.

The ceremony is beautiful and I find myself with wet cheeks when Ken’s voice cracks into a small sob as he recites his vows to his bride. Jiyong looks over at me and smiles, removing his hand from mine and wiping my cheeks. Karen makes a beautiful bride and their first kiss as husband and wife earns cheers and applause from the crowd.

“Sap,” Jiyong teases as I lay my head on his shoulder while the crowd files out.

After a bit, we accompany Jiyong’s grandma to the other tent, and I was right—it’s even more beautiful than the first one. Up near the walls of this tent are tables draped with white cloth and topped with black napkins and centerpieces of black and white flowers. The ceiling is covered in lanterns just like the yard, and they cast a subtle glow throughout the room, reflecting nicely off the glassware and glossy white plates. The middle of the tent is cleared for what appears to be a dance floor with black and white tiles, and waiters are standing at the ready, waiting for everyone to get their seats.

“Now, don’t you disappear. I want to see you again tonight,” Jiyong’s grandmother says and leaves us.

“This is the fanciest wedding I have been to,” he says and looks at the white cloth draped across the ceiling.

“I haven’t been to a wedding since I was a child,” I tell him and he smiles.

“I like that,” he says and kisses my cheek.

I am not used to his public displays of affection, but I could get used to them quickly.

“Like what?” I ask as he sits down at one of the tables.

“That you haven’t been to a wedding with Hoseok,” he says and I laugh to avoid frowning

“Me, too,” I assure him and he smiles.

THE FOOD IS DELICIOUS. I go for the chicken, and Jiyong chooses the steak. They set things up in a buffet line to keep it casual, but the food is anything but. I drag a piece of chicken through the creamy sauce and bring the fork to my mouth—but Jiyong snatches it from me, smiling as he chews the bite. He coughs a little, trying to master chewing and laughing at once.

“That’s what you get for stealing my food,” I tease him, popping a new piece into my mouth before he can grab it.

He laughs, leaning into my shoulder, and I catch the woman across from us staring. Her expression isn’t amused as she watches Jiyong press his lips against my shoulder. I stare back at her equally harshly and she looks away.

“Do you want me to get you another plate?” I ask Jiyong, loud enough for the rude woman to hear my offer. She looks over at the man next to her and raises a brow. He doesn’t seem to be paying attention to her, which annoys her further. I smile and place my hand over Jiyong’s. He’s as oblivious as the man across the table, and I’m glad.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Thank you.”

I lean down to kiss his cheek and make my way back to the line for food.

“Y/N?” a familiar voice calls. I look over to see Mr. Vance and Trevor standing a few feet away.

“Hello.” I smile.

“You look breathtaking,” Trevor says, and I thank him quietly.

“How are you enjoying your weekend?” Mr. Vance asks me.

“It’s great. I’ve been enjoying my weeks of late as well,” I assure him.

“Oh, sure.” He laughs and grabs himself a plate.

“No red meat!” Kimberly says from behind him. He pretends to shoot himself in the temple, and she blows him a kiss. Kimberly and Mr. Vance? Who would have thought? I will have to press her for details on Monday.

“Women,” he teases and fills her plate as I do Jiyong’s.

“I’ll see you in a few.” He smiles and walks back to his date. She waves at me and gets the young boy on her lap to do the same. I wave back, wondering suddenly if she has a child.

Trevor leans in and answers my thoughts. “It’s his son.”

“Oh,” I say and look away from Kimberly.

Trevor keeps his eyes on Mr. Vance. “His wife passed away five years ago, right after he was born. He hasn’t dated anyone until Kim, and they’ve only been seeing each other for a few months, but he is head over heels for her.” He turns to me and smiles.

“Well, now I know who to hit up for all the office gossip,” I joke and we both laugh.

“Babe . . .” Jiyong says and wraps his arm around my waist, clearly in an attempt to claim his territory.

“Nice to see you. Jiyong, is it?” Trevor asks.

“Yeah,” Jiyong answers shortly. “We better get back to our seats; Tae is looking for you.” He pulls me closer to him, silently dismissing Trevor.

“I’ll see you later, Trevor!” I smile politely and hand Jiyong his plate of food as we walk back to the table.

Where’s Tae?” I ask Jiyong when we take our seats.

He takes a bite of a croissant. “I don’t know.”

“Um, you said he was looking for me?”

“He was, but I don’t know where he is now.”

“ Jiyong, you shouldn’t talk with your mouth full.” His grandmother appears behind him.

I notice him take a deep breath before he turns to her. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“I wanted to see you before I go—God knows when I will see you again. Can you save a dance for your gammy?” she asks oh so adorably, but he shakes his head. “Why not?” she asks him with a smile.

I realize now that it wasn’t just shock that had Jiyong rattled before. There’s a tension between them that I can’t quite put my finger on.

“I am on my way to get Y/N a drink,” he lies and leaves the table.

His grandmother laughs uncomfortably. “Well, he’s something, isn’t he?” I am not sure what to say; my first instinct is to defend him, but it seems she is joking.

She turns to me sharply. “Is he still drinking?”

“What? N-no,” I stutter, completely caught off guard. “Well, he only drinks every once in a while,” I clarify as I see him walking toward us with two flutes full of pink liquid.

He hands me one and I smile and lift it to my lips. It smells sweet when I tip the glass back to take a drink, and the bubbles spritz lightly, tickling my nose. It tastes just as sweet as it smells.

“Champagne,” he informs me and I thank him.

“Y/N!” Karen practically shouts right before she wraps her arms around me. She has changed out of her wedding dress and into a white knee-length wrap dress, not that she looks any less stunning. “I am so thrilled that you two came! How was it?” she asks. Karen is the only person who would ask how her own wedding was; she is too kind.

“It was so lovely; it was beautiful.” I smile.

Jiyong puts his hand on the small of my back and I lean into him. I can sense how uncomfortable he is between his grandmother and Karen, and now Ken is making his way over to us.

“Thank you for coming,” Ken says to Jiyong and holds out his hand to shake.

Jiyong obliges and quickly shakes his father’s hand. I notice Ken start to lift his arm up to hug Jiyong, but he lowers it before following through. Still, Ken’s face is full of excitement and joy.

“Y/N, you look beautiful, dear.” He hugs me and then eagerly asks, “Are you enjoying yourselves?”

I can’t help but feel a little awkward around him now that I have a deeper insight into who he was all those years ago.“Yeah. It’s a nice setup you’ve got out here.” Jiyong does his best to praise his father. I put my hand on his back and rub small circles to ease him.

Jiyong’s grandmother coughs and looks at his father. “I didn’t know that you two were speaking.”

Ken rubs the back of his neck, a habit that I suspect Jiyong got from him.

“Yeah. Let’s talk about this another time, Mother,” Ken says and she nods in agreement.

I take another drink out of my glass and try not to dwell on the fact that I am drinking underage in front of adults. In front of the chancellor of my school.

A waiter in a black vest walks by with a tray of champagne, and when Ken grabs a flute I cringe. But he hands the glass to his new bride and I relax, extremely glad to see that he isn’t drinking.

“Want another?” Jiyong asks me and I look at Karen.

“Go ahead, it’s a wedding,” she tells me and I smile.

“Sure,” I say and Jiyong leaves to get me another glass.

We talk about the wedding and the flowers for a minute, and when Jiyong comes back with only one flute, Karen gets concerned and asks him, “You don’t like the champagne?”

“Oh yeah, it’s good, but I already had a glass and I’m driving,” he replies, and Karen looks at him with adoration clear in her brown eyes.

She turns to me. “Do you have time to come by this week? I ordered some seeds for the greenhouse.”

“Yes, of course. I am free anytime after four all week,” I say.

The pleased yet astonished look on Gammy’s face is obvious as she looks back and forth between Karen and me. “So how long have you two been seeing one another?” she asks Jiyong and me.

“A few months,” Jiyong tells her quietly.

Sometimes I forget that no one outside of our—well, Jiyong’s—group of friends knows that we despised each other up until two months ago.

“Oh, so no great-grandchildren for me anytime soon?” She laughs and Jiyong’s face flushes.

“No, no. We’ve only just moved in together,” Jiyong says, and Karen and I both spit champagne back into our glasses at the same time.

“You two moved in together?” Ken asks.

I had not expected Jiyong to tell them today. Heck, I hadn’t even been sure he would tell them at all, given how he is. I am shocked and a little embarrassed at my reaction, but mostly pleased that he has no problem admitting it.

“Yeah, we moved into Artisan a few days ago,” he explains.

“Wow, that’s a nice place, and closer to Y/N’s internship,” Ken remarks.

“Yeah,” Jiyong says, clearly trying to measure how everyone feels about our bombshell.

“Well, I am very happy for you, son.” He places his hand on his son’s shoulder and I watch with a neutral expression. “I never imagined you would be this happy and so . . . at peace.”

“Thank you,” Jiyong says and actually smiles.

“Maybe we could come by sometime and see it?” Ken asks, and Karen’s eyes lower.

“Ken . . .” she warns, clearly remembering the time Ken pushed Hardin too far, as am I.

“Uh, yeah, I guess you could,” Jiyong says, surprising us all.

“Really?” Ken asks and Jiyong nods. “Okay, just let us know when is good for the two of you.” His eyes are slightly glossy.

Music begins to play through the tent and Karen grabs Ken’s arm. “That’s our cue—thank you both so much for coming,” she says and leans in to kiss my cheek.

“You have done so much for this family, you have no idea,” she whispers in my ear before pulling away, tears shining in her eyes.

“Time for the bride and groom’s first dance!” a voice announces through the speakers. Jiyong’s grandmother walks away as well, following the crowd to watch.

“You just made their day,” I tell Jiyong and kiss his cheek.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he says.

“What?” My head is a little fuzzy from the two glasses of champagne I just finished.

“Upstairs,” he repeats, sending that familiar electricity through me.

“Now?” I laugh.

“Now.”

“But all these people . . .”

He doesn’t respond; instead he takes my hand and leads me through the crowd and out of the tent. When we get inside the house, he grabs me another glass of champagne, and I try not to let it spill as I rush up the stairs to keep up with him.

“Is something wrong?” I ask him as he shuts the bedroom door and locks it.

“I need you,” he says darkly and pulls his jacket off.

“Are you okay, though?” I ask, my heart already beating out of my chest.

“Yes, I just need a distraction,” he groans and steps toward me, grabbing the glass and setting it on the dresser. He takes another step, encircling my wrists in his hands and then lifting them over my head.

I will gladly be his distraction from the overload of everything downstairs—seeing his grandmother for the first time in years, watching his father get remarried, agreeing to let them come to our apartment. That is a lot for Jiyong in such a short period of time.

Instead of asking him any questions or pushing him further, I grab him by the collar of his shirt and push my hips out to meet his. He’s already hard. Groaning, he lets go of my wrists, allowing me to comb my fingers through his hair. When his mouth moves over mine, his tongue is hot and sweet with the lingering taste of champagne. Within seconds he is reaching into his pocket and pulling out a foil packet.

“We’ve got to get you on birth control so I can stop using these. I want to really be able to feel you.” His voice is husky and he pulls my lower lip between his, sucking lightly and seductively, making my body crave him even more.

I hear him unzip and he hisses as my hands reach down and push his pants and boxers down to his knees. Jiyong’s hands go up the front of my dress and he hooks his long fingers around my panties and pulls them down. I clumsily step out of them, using his arms to steady myself. He chuckles lightly before connecting his lips with my neck. His hands squeeze my hips before he lifts me up and I whimper a little, wrapping my legs around his waist.

My hands grip the top of my dress in an attempt to pull it down, but he pleads into my neck, “No, leave it on. This dress is so incredibly sexy . . . it’s so sexy, yet white and virginal looking . . . and fuck . . . it’s so hot. You’re so beautiful.” He lifts me up farther, then lowers me onto him. My back is against the smooth door and Jiyong begins guiding me up and down. There is a fever and a desperation in him that I have not seen at this level before, and I feel as though I am ice and he is fire. We are so completely different, yet the same.

“Is . . . this . . . okay?” he stutters, his arms wrapped around my back to keep me steady.

“Yes,” I moan. The feeling of him taking me this way, against the door, my legs around his waist, is very intense but heavenly all the same.

“Kiss me,” he begs.

I slide my tongue across his lips before his mouth parts, allowing me access. Tugging at his hair, I do my best to kiss him as he moves in and out of me faster and faster. Our bodies are moving vigorously, but our kiss remains slow and intimate.

“I can’t get enough of you, Y/N, I . . . fuck. I love you,” he says into my mouth and I gasp and moan, that feeling growing in the pit of my stomach.

A few grunts escape his lips and I cry out, both of us reaching our climaxes. “Let go, baby,” he instructs, and I do just that. He leaves his lips pressed against mine, swallowing my moans as he tenses and spills into the condom.

With a few heavy breaths his head falls onto my chest and he continues to hold me in place for a few seconds before lifting me and then lowering me to stand on my own feet.

I tilt my head back against the door and catch my breath as he neatly puts the condom back into the wrapper and puts it into his pocket before pulling his pants back up.

“Remind me to throw that away as soon as we get downstairs.” He laughs and I giggle. “Thank you,” he says and kisses my cheek. “Not for what we just did, but for everything.”

“You never need to thank me, Jiyong . You do as much for me as I do for you.” I look into his bright brown eyes. “Actually, more.”

“No way.” He shakes his head gently and takes my hand. “Let’s go back down before someone comes looking for us.”

“How do I look?” I ask, running my fingers through my hair and wiping under my eyes.

“Freshly fucked,” he teases and I roll my eyes. “You look beautiful.”

“So do you,” I tell him.

ALMOST EVERYONE IN THE TENT is dancing by the time we return, and it seems that our absence has gone unnoticed. As we take our seats another song begins. I recognize it: “Never Let Me Go,” by Florence and the Machine.

“Do you want to dance?” I ask Jiyong , even though I am sure I already know his answer.

“No, I don’t dance,” he says and looks over at me. “Unless . . . you want to?” he adds.

I am surprised by his offer and thrilled that he would dance with me. He holds his hand out for mine, but really I’m the one who leads us onto the checkered dance floor, moving quickly in case he changes his mind. We stay in the back, a good distance from the crowd.

“I don’t have a clue what to do.” He laughs.

“I’ll show you,” I assure him and place his hands on my hips. He steps on my feet a few times, but he catches on quickly. Never in a million years would I have even entertained the thought that Jiyong would be dancing at his father’s wedding.

“Sort of a demented song to play at a wedding, isn’t it?” He laughs into my ear.

“Not really; it’s sort of perfect,” I say and lean my head on his chest.

I am aware that we aren’t actually dancing as much as we are just swaying back and forth holding each other, but that’s fine with me. We stay that way for the next two songs, which end up being two of my favorites. “You Found Me” by the Fray makes Jiyong laugh as he holds me close to him. The next, a pop song by a boy band, plays, making me smile and him roll his eyes. During both, Jiyong gives me some background on his grandmother. She still lives in Korea, but he hasn’t seen or spoken to her since she phoned him on his twelfth birthday. She took his father’s side during the divorce and defended his drinking, essentially blaming Jiyong’s mother for everything, which was enough for Jiyong to not want to speak to her again. He seems very comfortable sharing this information with me, so I stay quiet, only nodding and humming in acknowledgment of his remarks.

Jiyong makes a few jokes about how annoying and whiny all the songs being played are, and I laugh at him.

“You want to go back upstairs?” he jokes and lowers his hand on my back.

“Maybe.”

“I’ll have to give you champagne more often.” I move his hands back up to my waist and he pouts, which makes me laugh even more. “I’m actually having a pretty decent time,” he admits.

“Me, too. Thank you for coming with me.”

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

I know he doesn’t mean the wedding but just with me in general. The thought sends warmth through me.

“May I cut in?” Ken asks as the next song begins.

Jiyong frowns and looks at me, then back to his father. “Yeah, but only one song,” he grumbles.

Ken laughs and repeats his son’s words: “One song.” Jiyong lets go of me, and Ken’s hand goes around my back. I swallow down the uneasy feelings I hold for him. He keeps the conversation light as we dance and my ill feelings are further muted as we laugh at an obviously drunk couple swaying back and forth next to us.

“Would you look at that?” Ken then says, his voice full of wonder.

I turn to see what he’s referring to and hear my own small gasp as I spot Jiyong awkwardly swaying back and forth with Karen. She laughs as he steps on her white shoes, and he smiles an embarrassed smile. Tonight has been better than I could have dreamed.

After the song ends, Jiyong quickly finds his way back to me, and Karen follows. We tell the happy bride and groom that we’re going to go, and we all exchange hugs once again, Jiyong’s being maybe incrementally less stiff than earlier. Someone calls Ken’s name and he nods at them. He and Karen say their final goodbyes and thank us once again for coming to the wedding before disappearing into the crowd.

“Oh, my feet are killing me,” I say. This is the longest I have worn heels in my entire life and I am going to need a week to recover.

“Would you like me to carry you?” he says in a mocking, babylike voice.

“No.” I giggle.

As we are leaving the tent, Trevor walks by with Mr. Vance and Kimberly. Her smile is bright and she winks at me after looking Jiyong up and down. I try to stifle my laugh and end up coughing.

“Did you save me a dance?” Mr. Vance teases Jiyong .

“No, absolutely not.” Jiyong laughs back at him.

“You’re leaving so soon?” Trevor looks at me.

“We have been here for a while, actually,” Jiyong answers for me and pulls me away from them. “Nice to see you, Vance,” he calls over his shoulder as we walk out of the tent.

“That was rude.” I scold him when we get to his car.

“He was flirting with you. I am entitled to be as rude as I please.”

“Trevor wasn’t flirting; he was just being nice.”

Jiyong rolls his eyes. “He wants you, I can tell. Don’t be so naïve.”

“Just be nice to him, please. I work with him and I don’t want any problems,” I say calmly. Tonight has been too good a night to ruin over his jealousy.

Jiyong smirks evilly. “I could always just have Vance fire him.”

I can’t help but laugh at his cocky response. “You’re insane,” I snort.

“Only when it comes to you,” he says and pulls onto the street.

I love coming home!” I proclaim with a squeal as we walk into the apartment, only to then realize it’s freezing. “Except when you turn the heat off.” I shiver and he chuckles.

“I still haven’t figured that thing out yet; it’s too high-tech.”

As Jiyong tries to figure out the thermostat, I grab a blanket off the bed and two from the closet and drop them in a heap on the couch, then go back to the bedroom. “ Jiyong!” I call.

“Coming!”

“Can you unzip me?” I ask as he comes in, looking frustrated from his handyman moment.

I flinch from the coolness of his fingertips against my bare skin. He apologizes, then hastily unzips the material, and it drops to the floor. I take my shoes off and find that the concrete floor is freezing as well. Hurrying to the dresser, I grab the warmest pajamas I can find.

“Here, let me give you something,” he says and walks to the closet, pulling out a gray hooded sweatshirt.

“Thanks.” I smile. I don’t know what it is about being in Jiyong ’s clothes that I love so much; it’s almost as if wearing them brings us closer. I never did this with Hoseok, except once when I borrowed a sweatshirt while camping with his family.

I put  Jiyong sweatshirt over my head with lustful eyes. I notice him struggling to get the tie off and I pad over to help him. He watches me silently as I pull the thin fabric from around his neck and set it aside before grabbing a pair of thick, fuzzy, purple socks that my mother got me for Christmas last year.

It dawns on me that Christmas is only three weeks away, and I start to wonder if my mother will still want me to come home. I haven’t been home since I left for college.

“What are those?” Jiyong chuckles and flicks the balls of fur at the top of my ankle.

“Socks. Warm socks, to be exact.” I stick my tongue out.

“Nice,” he teases, then changes into sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

By the time we get back to the living room, the apartment has warmed up somewhat. Jiyong turns the television on and lies on the couch, pulling me onto his chest and encasing us in the mound of blankets.

“I was wondering what you were doing for Christmas,” I say nervously. I don’t know why I feel shy asking him about this when we already live together.

“Oh well, I was going to wait until next week to bring it up, with everything being so chaotic over the last week, but since you did . . .” He smiles, his face holding the same nervousness that I feel. “I’m going to go home for the holiday, and I would like it if you would come with me.”

“To Jeju . . . to my mother’s house.” He looks a little sheepish as he hedges, “I get it if you don’t want to. I know it’s a lot to ask, and you’ve already moved in with me.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just . . . I don’t know . . .” The idea of going to another country with Jiyong is thrilling, but terrifying. I have never even left Washington.

“You don’t have to answer me tonight, but let me know soon, okay? I will be leaving on the twentieth,” he explains.

“That’s the day after my birthday,” I tell him.

He moves suddenly and lifts my head up. “Your birthday? Why didn’t you tell me it was so soon?”

I shrug a little. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it, I guess. Birthdays aren’t really a big deal to me. My mother used to go all-out on my birthdays, making each one special, but not in the last few years.”

“Well, what would you like to do for your birthday?”

“Nothing. Maybe we can go to dinner?” I don’t want to make a big deal out of it.

“Dinner . . . I don’t know,” he teases. “A bit extravagant, isn’t it?”

I giggle and he kisses my forehead. I force him to watch the new episode of Pretty Little Liars and we end up falling asleep on the couch pretty quickly.

I wake up sweating in the middle of the night. Lifting myself off Jiyong , I peel off the sweatshirt and go over to turn the heat down when a small blue light blinking on Jiyong’s phone piques my curiosity. I pick the phone up off the counter and swipe my finger across. Three new messages.

Put the phone down, Y/N.

I have no reason to go through his phone; that’s insane. I set it down and walk back toward the couch, only to be stopped by the vibration of another text message arriving.

Just one. I will only glance at one. That’s not so crazy, right? I know it’s insane to be looking through Jiyong’s messages, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

Call me back dick, the message reads. Seunghyn’s name covers the top of the small screen.

Yup, reading that was a terrible idea. It didn’t get me anywhere at all, and now I feel guilty for going through Jiyong’s phone like a crazy person . . . but why is Seunghyun texting Jiyong, anyway?

“Y/N?” Jiyong’s voice croaks, causing me to jump, and the phone slips out of my grasp. It falls to the floor with a crack.

“What was that? What are you doing?” he asks through the dark room, the only light being cast from the television.

“Your phone went off . . . and I grabbed it,” I half-lie and scramble on the floor to pick up the phone. The screen now has a small crack along the side. “And I cracked the screen,” I add.

He groans wearily. “Just come back to bed.”

I set the phone down and lie back on the couch with him. But I don’t fall asleep for a long while.

THE NEXT MORNING, I wake up to Jiyong trying to move out from under me. I shift against the back of the couch to let him get up, and he grabs his phone off the counter before going to the bathroom. I hope he isn’t too pissed about me breaking his screen. If I wouldn’t have been so nosy, this wouldn’t have happened in the first place. I pull myself off the couch and make a pot of coffee.

Jiyong’s proposal of going to Jeju with him keeps running through my mind. We have already progressed so quickly in our relationship by moving in together at such a young age. Still, I would love to meet his mother and see Jeju with Jiyong.

“Deep in thought?” Jiyong’s voice interrupts me as he comes into the kitchen.

“No . . . well, sort of.” I laugh.

“About?”

“Christmas.”

“What about it? You can’t figure out what to get me?”

“I think I’m going to call my mother and see if she would have even invited me for Christmas. I feel bad not at least seeing first, you know. She will be alone.”

He doesn’t look thrilled, but he stays calm. “I understand.”

“I’m sorry about your phone.”

“It’s fine,” he says and sits at the kitchen table.

But then I blurt out, “I read a text message from Seunghyn.” I don’t want to hide things from him, no matter how embarrassing the confessions are.

“You what?”

“It vibrated and I looked at it. Why was he texting so late, anyway?”

“What did you read?” he asks, ignoring my question.

“A text from Seunghyun,” I repeat.

His jaw clenches. “What did it say?”

“Just to call him back . . .” Why is he getting so worked up? I knew he wouldn’t exactly be happy that I looked at his text message, but this is an overreaction.

“That’s it?” he snaps, which starts to get me annoyed.

“Yes, Jiyong —what else would it have said?”

“Nothing . . .” He takes a slow sip of coffee, like it’s all suddenly no big deal. “I just don’t like you going through my stuff.”

“Okay, well, I won’t do it again.”

“Good. I have a few things to do today, so can you keep yourself busy for a while?”

“What do you have to do?” I ask and instantly regret it.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he says loudly. “Why are you always on my case!”

“I’m not always on your case. I just wanted to know what you were doing. We are in a relationship, Jiyong—a pretty serious one, at that—so why wouldn’t I ask where you’re going?”

He pushes his mug away and stands up. “You just don’t know when to let shit go, is your problem. I don’t have to tell you everything, whether we are living together or not! If I would have known you were going to start shit with me today, I would have left before you even woke up.”

“Wow” is all I can say before I storm off to the bedroom.

But he’s hot on my heels. “Wow what?”

“I should have known that yesterday was too good to be true.”

“Excuse me?” he scoffs.

“We had such a great time; you weren’t an asshole, for once, but you wake up today and bam! You’re back to being a jerk!” I scramble around the room picking up Jiyong’s dirty clothes.

“You forgot the part where you went through my phone.”

“Okay, and I am sorry for doing that, but it’s honestly not that big of a deal. If there is something on there that you don’t want me to see, then there is a bigger problem here!” I yell and shove everything into the hamper.

He points an angry finger at me. “No, Y/N, you’re the problem. You’re always making something out of nothing!”

“Why did you fight Seungri?” I counter.

“We aren’t doing this right now,” he says in a cool tone.

“Then when, Jiyong? Why won’t you tell me? How am I supposed to trust you if you are keeping things from me? Does this have to do with Seunghyun?” I ask and his nostrils flare.

He runs his hands over his face and then up through his hair, leaving it sticking straight up. “I don’t know why you can never just mind your own damn business,” he grumbles and walks off.

Seconds later I hear the front door slam and I wipe the angry tears from my cheeks. Jiyong’s reaction to me asking about Seunghyun is gnawing at my stomach the entire time I clean the apartment. He overreacted; there is something he isn’t telling me, and I don’t understand why. I am fairly certain it has nothing to do with me, but it just doesn’t make sense why Jiyong got so worked up. I have known since the moment I met Jace that he was trouble. If Jiyong isn’t going to give me answers, I will have to go another route. I look out the window and watch as Jiyong’s car pulls out of the parking lot before grabbing my phone. My new source answers on the first ring.

“Seungri? It’s Y/N,” I say.

“Yeah . . . I know.”

“Okay . . . well, I was wondering if I could ask you something?” My voice comes out smaller than I intended it to.

“Um . . . where is Jiyong?” he asks, and, given his tone, I suspect he holds a small grudge against me for blowing him off after he was so kind to me.

“He isn’t here.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea—”

“Why did Jiyong fight you?” I ask before he finishes.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I gotta go,” he says and the call ends.

What the hell? I hadn’t been one hundred percent sure he would tell me, but that wasn’t the reaction I was expecting, either. My curiosity is now piqued more than before and my annoyance is as high as ever.

I try to call Jiyong again, but of course he doesn’t answer. Why would Seungri act that way? Like he was almost . . . afraid to tell me? Maybe I was wrong and this does have to do with me? I don’t know what’s going on, but none of this makes sense. I take a step back and reevaluate the situation. Am I overreacting? Jiyong’s frantic expression when I asked about Seunghyun replays in my head, and I’m sure I’m not misreading this.

I take a shower to try to calm my nerves and settle my mind, but it doesn’t work; this feeling in the pit of my stomach pushes me to come up with another option. When I get out of the shower, I blow-dry my hair and get myself dressed while I decide what to do next.

I feel a little like Miss Havisham in Great Expectations, plotting and scheming. I had never cared for her character, but suddenly I find myself relating to her. I can now see how love can make you do things that you normally wouldn’t, like become obsessive and even a little crazy. Though, in reality, my plan really isn’t all that crazy or nearly as dramatic as it seems in my head. All I’m going to do is find Hyuna and ask her if she knows why Jiyong and Seungri got into a fight, then see what she knows about Seunghyun. The only thing that makes this plan crazy is that Jiyong will lose it when he finds out that I called Seungri and went to Hyuna.

Now that I think about it, Jiyong hasn’t taken me around any of his friends since we moved in together—making it likely none of them actually know about our new living arrangement.

BY THE TIME I leave the apartment, my thoughts are jumbled and I end up leaving my phone on the counter. It begins to snow as soon as I pull onto the freeway, so it takes me over thirty minutes to get to the dorms. They look the same as I remember—of course they do. It has been only a week since I left them, even though it seems so much longer.

Marching up the hallway, I ignore the rude stare from the bleach blonde who yelled at Jiyong for spilling vodka outside her door. That first night that Jiyong stayed in my dorm with me seems so distant; time hasn’t made sense since I met him. When I knock on my old door, there’s no answer. Of course she isn’t here; she’s never here. She spends the majority of her time at Tristan and Daesung’s apartment, and I have no idea where that is. Even if I did, would I go there?

I get into my car and try to formulate a new plan while I drive around. This might have been easier if I hadn’t forgotten my phone, but just as I’m about to give up on my radical decision to practically stalk my old roommate, I pass Blind Bob’s, the biker bar I went to with Hyuna. Recognizing Daesung’s car in the lot, I pull in. I take a deep breath before getting out, and when I finally do, the cold air burns my nostrils. The woman at the front smiles at me when I enter, and I’m relieved when I spot Hyuna’s red hair from across the room.

If only I had known what was to come.

Nervousness overtakes me as I walk through the smoky bar. Why did I think this was a good idea? Jiyong is going to be furious with me, and Hyuna may just think I’m insane.

When she sees me, a big smile fills Hyuna’s face and she practically shouts, “Y/N, what the hell are you doing here?” before pulling me into a hug.

“I . . . well, I was looking for you,” I say.

“Is everything okay? Or did you just miss me?” She laughs.

“I just missed you.” I decide to go with that for now.

“I haven’t seen you in ages, Y/N,” Daesung teases and then hugs me. “Where has Hardin been hiding you?”

Tristan appears behind Hyuna and wraps his arms around her waist. By the way she leans back against him, I know they have worked through the fight over Chaerin.

She smiles. “Come sit with us—it’s just us for now.”

For now? I wonder if she means that Jiyong will be here soon? I follow the three of them to a booth, dreading the answer to that question. A question I choose not to ask, and instead order a burger and fries. I haven’t eaten all day and it’s past three in the afternoon.

“And I’ll make sure there is no ketchup,” the waitress says with a knowing smile and walks back to the kitchen. Clearly she remembers the scene Jiyong made the last time I was here.

I pick at my manicured fingers as I wait for the waitress to bring me my Coke.

“You missed one hell of a party last night, Y/N,” Daesung says. He lifts his glass and gulps down the remainder of his beer.

“Yeah?” I smile. The most frustrating part of my relationship with Jiyong is that I never know what I’m allowed to tell people. If I were in a normal relationship, I would respond with “Oh yeah, we had a great time last night at his father’s wedding.” But since my relationship is far from normal, I stay quiet.

“Yeah, it was wild. We went out to the docks instead of the frat house.” He laughs. “We get away with more at the docks and we don’t have to clean up after.”

“Oh. Does Seunghyun live at the docks?” I try to keep my tone neutral.

“What? No, the docks are boat docks. He works there during the day, though. He lives close by them.”

“Oh . . .” I chew on my straw.

“It was freezing, and Tristan here was plastered and jumped into the cold-ass water.”Hyuna snorts, and Tristan flips her off playfully.

“It wasn’t too bad; my body was numb the second I hit the water,” he jokes.

My food arrives along with Tristan’s wings and a round of beers for the three of them.

“You sure you don’t want a beer? She won’t card you,” Daesung tells me.

“Oh, no, I have to drive. Thanks, though.”

“So how’s your new dorm?” Hyuna asks and steals a fry from my plate.

“My what?”

“Your new dorm?” she repeats slowly.

“I don’t have a new dorm.” Did Jiyong tell her I moved into another dorm?

“Uh, yeah, you do, because you don’t live in mine anymore. All of your stuff was gone and Jiyong said you changed dorms, that your mom flipped out on you or something.” She takes a big swig from her beer.

I decide that I don’t care how pissed Jiyong gets at me—I’m not going to lie. I’m infuriated and embarrassed that he is still hiding our relationship. “ Jiyong and I moved into an apartment,” I tell them.

“What?” Hyuna, Daesung, and Tristan say at the same time.

“Yes, last week. We moved in together about twenty minutes from campus,” I explain. All three of them are looking at me as if I have grown a second head.

“What?” I ask harshly.

“Nothing. It’s just . . . wow . . . I don’t know. That’s just a really huge surprise,” Hyuna says.

“Why?” I snap. I know it isn’t fair to direct my anger toward her when it’s meant for Jiyong , but I can’t help it.

She frowns and looks like she’s pondering something. “I don’t know; I just can’t picture Jiyong living with someone, that’s all. I didn’t know you two were that serious. I wish you would have told me.”

As I am about to ask her what she means by that, Daesung’s and Tristan’s eyes dart to the door, then back to me. When I turn around, I see Chaerin Jiyong , and Seunghyun standing in the doorway. Jiyong shakes some snow from his hair and wipes his boots on the straw mat. I turn around quickly, my heart beating out of my chest. There are too many things going on at once: Chaerin is with Jiyong, which pisses me off beyond words. Seunghyun is with Jiyong , which confuses the hell out of me. And I just told everyone that we moved in together, which they seem unsettled by.

“Y/N.” Hardin’s voice is angry from behind me.

I look up at him, and his face is twisted in anger. He is trying to control it, I can tell, but it’s about to boil over. “I need to talk to you,” he says through clenched teeth.

“Right now?” I say, trying to sound casual but hard-edged.

“Yes. Now,” he answers and reaches out to grab my arm. I quickly climb out of the booth and follow him to the corner of the small bar. “What the hell are you doing here?” he says quietly, his face inches from mine.

“I came to hang out with Hyuna.” Not exactly a lie, but not the truth, either.

He calls me out. “Bullshit.” He is struggling to keep his voice down, but we’ve already drawn the attention of more than a few patrons. “You need to go,” he tells me.

“Excuse me?” I retort, stealing one of his famous lines.

“You need to go home.”

“Home where? Back to my new dorm?” I challenge. The color drains from his face. “Yup, I told them. I told them that we live together—how could you not? Do you know how stupid that makes me look? I thought we were past you trying to keep me a secret.”

“I wasn’t . . .” he lies.

“I am sick of the secrets and deception, Jiyong. Every time I think we are doing so great—”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret. I was just waiting.” Jiyong’s thoughts seem jumbled. I can almost see the internal battle being waged behind his Brown eyes. His eyes frantically scan the room, and his panic worries me.

“I can’t keep doing this—you know that, don’t you?” I tell him.

“Yeah, I know.” He sighs and pulls his lip ring between his teeth and runs his hand through his damp hair. “Can we go home and talk about this?” he asks and I nod.

I follow him back to the booths where everyone is seated. “We are going to go,” Jiyong announces.

Seunghyun gives a sinister grin. “So soon?”

Jiyong’s shoulders tense. “Yeah,” he answers.

“Back to your apartment?” Hyuna asks, and I shoot a glare at her. Not now, I silently scream at her.

“Your what?” Chaerin cackles. I could have gone the rest of my life without seeing her again, really.

“Their apartment; they live together,” Hyuna says in a singsong voice. I know she is only trying to shove it down Chaerin’s throat, and usually I would applaud her for it, but I’m too angry at Jiyong to focus on Chaerin.

“Well, well, well.” Chaerin taps her long crimson nails on the table. “That’s very interesting,” she says, staring at Jiyong.

“Chaerin . . .” he warns. I swear I see panic flash across his face.

She raises an eyebrow. “You’re really taking this whole thing a little far, aren’t you?”

“Chaerin, I swear to God, if you don’t shut the fuck up—”

“What thing? What is he taking too far?” I can’t help but ask.

“Y/N, go outside,” he commands, but I ignore him.

“No, what is he taking too far? Tell me!” I yell.

“Wait. You’re in on it, aren’t you?” She laughs and continues, “I knew it! I told Seunghyun you knew, but he wouldn’t believe me. Jiyong, you owe Seungri some big bucks for this.” She throws her head back and stands up.

Jiyongs face is completely pale; all the blood seems to be drained from his entire body. My head is swimming and I’m so confused. I briefly glance at Daesung, Tristan, and Hyuna, but they are all focused on Jiyong.

“Knew what?” My voice is shaky. Jiyong grabs my arm and tries to pull me away, but I jerk out of his grip and move over to stand in front of Chaerin.

“Don’t play stupid with me, I know you know. What did he do? Split the money with you?” she asks.

Jiyong reaches for my hand, and his fingers are ice cold. “Y/N . . .” I jerk away and stare at him, my eyes wide.

“Tell me! What is she talking about!” I yell to him. Tears threaten my eyes, and I struggle to keep down all the emotions storming through me.

Jiyong astounds me by opening his mouth and then closing it again.

“Oh my God, you really don’t know? Oh, this is amazing. Everyone pull up a seat!” she mocks.

“Chaerin, don’t,” Hyuna says.

“You sure you wanna know, princess?” Chaerin continues, giving me a triumphant smile.

I can literally hear the blood pounding behind my ears, and for a second I wonder if everyone else can, too. “Tell me,” I demand.

She tilts her head slightly . . . but then pauses. “No, I think Jiyong should tell her.” And she starts giggling, sliding her tongue ring between her teeth, making the most horrendous rattling, worse than nails on a chalkboard.

Everything is happening too fast for me to comprehend. I’m confused, and when I look around the room, I see that I’m surrounded by people who have taunted me no matter hard I tried to fit in with them, and I know that I can’t trust a single one of them.

What’s going on? Why is Jiyong just standing there? What’s happening?

“I second that,” Seunghyun chimes in and lifts his beer in salute. “Go on, Jiyong, tell her.”

“I . . . I will tell you outside,” Jiyong says, his voice low.

I look into his brilliant eyes, which seem wild with desperation and confusion. I don’t know what is going on, but I do know I don’t want to go anywhere with him.

“No, you tell me here. In front of them so you can’t lie.” My heart is already aching and I know that I am not prepared for whatever he is getting ready to tell me.

He pauses, fidgeting with his fingers before he speaks. “I’m sorry.” He holds his hands out in front of him. “Y/N, you have to remember that this was way before I even knew you.” His eyes are begging for mercy.

I don’t trust my voice, and I barely open my mouth when I speak. “Tell me.”

“That night . . . that second night . . . the second party you came to, when we played Truth or Dare . . . and Daesung asked if you were a virgin . . .” He closes his eyes as if to gather his thoughts.

Oh no. If it was possible for my heart to sink even lower, it would have. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Not right now. Not to me.

“Go on . . .” Seunghyun says and leans forward like this is the best thing he’s ever seen. Jiyong shoots him daggers, and I know that if Jiyong weren’t in the middle of single-handedly destroying our relationship, he would kill that vile man on the spot.

“You said you were . . . and that gave someone an idea—”

“Gave who the idea?” Chaerin interrupts.

“Me . . . gave me the idea,” he admits. His eyes never leave mine. Which doesn’t make this any easier. “That . . . it could be fun to make . . . to make a bet.” His head falls, and tears pour from my eyes.

“No,” I choke and take a step backward.

Confusion rams into my already-jumbled thoughts, disrupting any attempt to make sense of them, to make sense of what I’m hearing. Confusion is quickly replaced by a burning mixture of pain and anger. All of the memories flooding through me pile and piece together . . .

“Stay away from him.” “Be careful.” “Sometimes you think you know people, but you don’t.” “But Y/N, I need to tell you something.”

All of the small remarks that were made by Chaerin, Seunghyun, and even Jiyong himself play over and over. There was always something in the back of my mind, a feeling that I was missing something. All of the air seems to be sucked out of the small room, and I find myself almost gasping as the reality of all this sets in. There were so many clues; I just was too blinded by Jiyong to see them.

Why would he take it this far? To have me live with him?

“You knew?” I turn to Hyuna. I can’t look at Jiyong any longer.

“I . . . I was going to tell you so many times, Y/N,” she says, her eyes brimming with guilty tears.

“I didn’t believe it when he claimed he won, even with the condom,” Seunghyun snickers, enjoying the show.

“Right? Me, either! The sheets, though. I mean, how can you deny blood on the sheets!” Chaerin laughs.

The sheets. That’s why they were still in his car . . .

I know I should be saying something, anything, but I can’t find my voice. Everything is still moving around me; people in the bar are eating and drinking, not noticing the naïve girl ten feet away from them having her heart shattered. How is it possible that time still moves as I stand here watching Tristan bow his head, watching Hyun cry, and, most of all, watching Jiyong watch me.

“Y/N, I am so sorry.” He takes a step toward me, but I can’t even move my feet to run away like I need to.

Chaerin’s harpy voice breaks through the air. “You know, there is a sort of drama here that everyone has to appreciate. I mean, remember last time we were all here and Hyuna gave Y/N that ridiculous makeover, and Jiyong and Seungri were trying to battle over who took her back to her room?” She laughs, then continues: “Then Jiyong showed up to your room, right? With that vodka! You thought he was drunk! Do you remember when I called him when he was there?” For a moment she looks at me like she actually expects I’ll answer her. “But really he was supposed to win the bet that night. He was pretty cocky about it, but Seungri kept saying you wouldn’t give it up that quick. I guess Seungri was right, but you still gave it up quicker than I thought you would, so I suppose it’s a good thing I didn’t bet any money . . .”

Chaerin’s terrible sounds and Jiyong ’s eyes are the only thing in the bar.

I have never felt this way before. This level of humiliation and loss is worse than I could ever have imagined. Jiyong has been playing me this entire time; this was all a game to him. All the hugs, the kisses, the smiles, the laughs, the “I love you’s,” the sex, the plans—and fuck if this doesn’t burn like nothing else in the world. He had every move planned, every night, every single detail, and everyone knew except me. Even Hyuna, who I thought was becoming a friend. I glance at him, allowing myself a moment of weakness during the shock, and I wish I hadn’t. He’s just standing there—standing there like my entire world isn’t crashing around me and he hasn’t completely humiliated me in front of everyone.

“You’d be happy to know that you were worth a pretty penny, though, even though Seungri tried to bitch out a few times. But with Seunghyun, Logan, and Seungri’s money, I hope he at least bought you dinner!” Chaerin says, laughing.

Seunghyun finishes his beer and howls. “I’m only disappointed that I missed the infamous I Love You! announcement in front of everyone. I heard that was a killer.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Tristan surprises everyone by yelling. If I wasn’t numb, he may have surprised me, too. “Fuck you guys. She has already had enough!”

Jiyong takes another step. “Baby, please say something.”

And with his little “baby” plea, my brain finally connects with my mouth. “Don’t you fucking dare call me that! How could you do this to me? You . . . you . . . I can’t . . .” I have so many things in my head to say, but they just won’t come out. “And I won’t say anything, because that’s what you want.” I sound much more confident than I feel inside. Inside I am burning, and my heart is on the floor, underneath Hardin’s boot.

“I know I messed up—” he begins.

“You messed up? You messed up?” I scream. “Why? Just tell me why. Why me?”

“Because you were there,” he says. And his honesty only breaks me further. “And a challenge. I didn’t know you, Y/N. I didn’t know that I would fall in love with you.”

His mention of love carries with it the opposite feeling than it has the past few weeks, and I can taste the bile in the back of my throat. “You’re sick. You’re fucking sick!” I scream and rush to the door.

This is too much for me. Jiyong’s hand wraps around my arm and I jerk away, turning and slapping him. Hard.

The pain in his expression gives me the most painful satisfaction.

“You ruined everything!” I scream. “You took something from me that wasn’t yours, Jiyong. That was meant for someone who loved me, loved me truthfully. It was his, whoever he is, and you took that—for money? I ruined my relationship with my mother for you. I gave up everything! I had someone who loved me, someone who wouldn’t hurt me the way you did. You are disgusting.”

“I do love you, Y/N. I love you more than anything. I was going to tell you. I tried to get them not to tell you. I never wanted you to find out. That’s why I was out all night, getting them to agree not to say anything. I was going to tell you soon, now that we live together, because then it wouldn’t matter.”

I have no control over the words tumbling from my lips. “Are you . . . you . . . oh my God, Jiyong! What the hell is wrong with you? You think going around convincing people to not tell me is okay? The fact that I wouldn’t know would make it all okay? You thought that if we lived together, I would let this go? That’s why you were so determined for my name to be on the lease! Oh my God. You are sick!”

Every small detail that made me think twice since I met Jiyong all points to this. It was so obvious. “That’s why you went and got my stuff for me from my room, because you were afraid Hyuna would tell me!”

Everyone in the bar is staring and I feel so small, so broken and small.

“What did you do with the money, Jiyong?”

“I—” he begins, then stops.

“Tell me,” I demand.

“Your car . . . the paint . . . and the deposit for the apartment. I thought if I . . . I was going to tell you so many times, once I knew it wasn’t just a bet anymore. I love you—I loved you the entire time, I swear it,” he says.

“You kept the condom to show them, Jiyong! You showed them the sheets, the bloody fucking sheets!” I wrap my hands in my hair and tug at it. “Oh my God! I’m such an idiot. While I was reliving every detail of the best night of my life, you were showing your friends the sheets.”

“I know . . . I don’t have any excuse . . . but you have to forgive me. We can figure this out,” he says.

And I laugh. A real laugh. Despite my tears, I find myself laughing; I’m losing my mind. This scene isn’t playing out like in the movies. I’m not holding myself together. I’m not handling the news elegantly with a simple gasp or a single tear trailing down my cheek. I am crying, pulling at my own hair, and am barely able to control my emotions and form a full sentence.

“Forgive you?” I laugh madly. “You have ruined my entire life—you know that, don’t you? Oh, of course you do. That was your plan the entire time, remember? You promised you would ‘ruin me.’ So congratulations, Jiyong, you have. What should I give you, money? Or should I find another virgin for you?”

He shifts a little, as if to block out my view of the others at the table. “Y/N, please. You know I love you, I know you do. Let’s go home, please, and I will tell you everything.”

“Home? That isn’t my home. It never has been; we both know that.” I try for the door again. I am so close.

“What can I do? I’ll do anything,” he begs. With his eyes still focused on mine, he bends down. I’m confused for a second before I realize he is getting on his knees in front of me.

“You? Nothing. There is nothing you can do for me anymore, Jiyong.”

If I knew what to say to hurt him as badly as he has hurt me, I would. And I would repeat it a thousand times, just so he would know how it feels to be so completely blindsided and ripped apart.

I take off for the door, taking advantage of Jiyong’s position on his knees. As soon as I reach the door, I crash into someone. I look up to find Seungri, his battered face still recovering from the injuries that Jiyong caused.

“What’s wrong?” he asks and grabs my elbows. Then his gaze travels behind me to Jiyong and realization fills his eyes.

“I’m sorry . . .” he says, but I ignore him. Jiyong is coming, and I have to get the hell away from this bar, from him.

The freezing air whips my hair in front of my face as soon as I get outside. I welcome the feeling, hoping it will cool the burning inside me. Snow has blanketed my car and the streets.

Seungri’s voice calls from behind me, “You can’t drive, Y/N.” I keep trudging through the snow, across the parking lot.

“Leave me alone! I know you were in on it! You all were!” I scream and dig for my keys.

“Let me take you home—you are in no condition to drive in this storm,” he says. As I open my mouth to scream at him, Jiyong walks outside.

I look at the person I once thought was the love of my life, who I thought would make every day after we met special, and wild, and free. And then I look at Seugri.

“Okay,” I say.

The click of Seungri’s car being unlocked is my cue to get in as fast as I can. The second Jiyong realizes that I’m leaving with Seungri, he runs toward the car. His face twists in anger, and I hope for Seungri’s sake he gets into the car before Jiyong reaches us.

Seungri jumps in and takes off. I look over and watch Jiyong fall to his knees for the second time tonight.

“I am so sorry, Y/N. I had no idea it would get that out of hand—” he starts, but I cut him off.

“Don’t talk to me.”

I can’t stand to hear any more. I can’t take it. I’m sick to my stomach, and the pain of Jiyong’s betrayal is cutting at me, making me weaker and weaker by the moment. I’m convinced that if Seungri speaks, there will be nothing left of me. I need to know why Jiyong did what he did, but I’m honestly terrified what will happen if I hear it, all of it. I haven’t felt pain like this before and I’m not sure how to handle it, or if I can at all. Seungri nods, and we drive in silence for a few minutes. I think of Jiyong, of Chaerin, of Seunghyun and the rest, and something in me shifts. Something makes me braver. “You know what?” I turn to him. “Do talk to me. Tell me everything. Every single detail.”

With worried eyes he searches my face for a moment, and then, realizing he has no choice, says a quiet “Okay” as we turn onto the freeway.

TO BE CONTINUED ~END OF PART 1

A/N IF YOU WANT FIRST CHAPTER OF THE SECOND BOOK TOMORROW I WANT 100 NOTES WITHIN 24H

[seense]

The Clock 4, Bigger than Ever (Part 1)

After 2 years in the making The Clock 4 is finally here.

Over the next few days, I'm going to take you to a journey, unveiling the biggest update ever of The Clock, which leaded to The Clock 4.

I have a lot to cover. How much to cover you say? To give you an idea, The Clock 4 has around 100 optional settings to match your need. Of course, I will not detail all of them, but I will unveil the major ones over the course of the next few days (~1 week). With at the end of this journey the release of the beta.

Before to describe all the redesign processes, struggles, issues, many times the rewrite of the code. In this first post, I will simply start slow. I will show the small UI differences between The Clock 3 and The Clock 4.

Big clarification before to start this journey. The Clock 4 refers to either the macOS version either the iOS version. As for a seamless experience, there is 99% features compatibility. Obviously not the menubar part 😉.

As you probably know The Clock is designed to be beautiful & simple yet a powerful productivity tool all at the same time.

The Clock is composed of 4 parts.

The Calendar.

What's up next complication.

The World Clocks area.

The Meeting Planner Slider.

And these parts can be shown or hidden as per your need.

The Clock 4 of course retains this long time useful and loved UI, as you can see in the picture. But with small differences...

The themes have a better color contrast. The font differents sizing are more inline with what you could see with the iOS Dynamic Type font sizes. The selected day is now with a nice rounded square.

While the calendar is shown, you can now expand/collapse the calendar with 6 weeks (as before) or 1 week. Usuful for the smaller screens if you want still to see the calendar but do not want it to take too much space.

The Go to Today button action has now its own Today button with the current date displayed. Previously you had to click on the month :(

The world clocks complications (more than before) can now be placed on the left or right. The full complications list is avaiblable for both sides.

The meeting planner slider panel now display the date/time directly in the panel. And the panel now have a share button clearly shown, to share your meeting information. Previously you had to click to get the contextual menu. Which was maybe not obvious.

The gear button has been replaced by a "more" button for a consistent UI between macOS and iOS.

These are the major visual differences that you may notice when you open The Clock 4.

On the macOS version, you may not notice the following one...

Yes, on macOS, in the menu bar, now you can set your own custom format!

A little bit more:

While panning to set a meeting, you are not limited anymore to +/- 24h. The Clock 4 will automatically continue and change the date in the calendar.

You may not have noticed, but you can now change the analog clock design.

And few other goodies such as the new redesigned World Clock settings for a consistent experience across your devices.

Or the new redesigned calendar events.

The World Clock settings and Calendar events are now shown with a double click/double tap, in order to better align the gesture between macOS and iOS for the display of a popover panels.

These are really only a tiny part of the nice updates coming to The Clock 4. Be reminded that these blog posts will run for ~1 week. So I have far more to cover about this Bigger than Ever release.

Oh! before I forget. All this nice UI has been completely rewritten and is now driven 100% by Core Animation and Auto Layout for smooth animations and optimum rendering 🤪. And is macOS 10.14 Mojave and iOS 12 ready.

Little Game: A visual detail of The Clock 3/The Clock 4 macOS first screenshot has not been described yet, and it is a major one. Can you spot the differences between The Clock 3 and The Clock 4 macOS and tell me which one? 🤔.

Part 2 post to follow soon...