I mentally put on the armor I’ll need and leave.
Chapter Seven
Ryan
I fucked up.
I know that.
My body knows it.
My brain’s still misfiring. Oh, and I want to choke the life out of Sookie, one of my actual friends, who’s truly one of the nicest guys in the world and would do anything for me.
Yeah, I want him dead.
Logically, I know he wasn’t flirting with Ah-Ri. I know they’re friends because I try to change the subject whenever he brings her up. I know they’re close, but then I question if guys and girls can really be friends, and all that self-doubt wasn’t at all helpful when he put his hat on her head and smiled.
Fucking smiled.
And saw her tears.
I’m back at the apartment and feeling like I stole a kiss rather than gave one. I was just so angry. Mad that I was attracted to her. That it was hard to even focus while touching her… And I can only blame myself.
Shit, if anyone had seen us, it would have been game over.
I would have been in the CEO’s office on my hands and knees, waiting for him to disband us before we even really debuted.
Between Haneul and me, I’m the chef, so at least I’m able to distract myself while I make the food.
I wasn’t sure what the girls would like, so I went for ddukbokki, bulgogi, and since you can never go wrong with it, kimchi. Clearly, I was thinking ahead, so I grabbed the stash from the fridge. The smell of the food hits the apartment hard, and I’m suddenly ravenous.
I tell myself I’m making the food for me, when really, I just want those damn girls to eat. Haneul said that Jisoo ate a cup of fruit and then drank enough water to float her way to our apartment, only to eat half a protein bar and call it a day.
If they want to be part of our group, I want them healthy. I shudder thinking back on my trainee days. No joke, Sookie once sent me a text with a chicken meme and said he was going to end it all.
Panicked because that shit isn’t a joke, I called him. He was in tears because the label said he needed to lose more weight. I was pissed and told SWT’s leader, then showed up at their apartment with homemade food. I quickly realized that it was more Sookie just trying to prove himself, being stressed out, and not admitting it to anyone, including the leader or his manager.
Ugh. I disgust myself. I shove away from the stove and reach for my phone, pulling it from the charger to send Sookie a quick text.
Me: I’m sorry. I lost my temper…again.
Sookie responds right away.
Sookie: Gae Sae Ggi
Me: Yes, I’m aware. I’m a jerk, thank you.
Sookie: Gae Ji Ral
Me: Are you practicing cursing at people? This is fun.
His texts stop, so I try again.
Me: Look, I have no excuse. Well, I mean I do, but…never mind. It’s a long story.
Sookie: Soju?
Ah, there he is. At least he still wants to drink with me.
Me: Yeah, I can’t tonight, but later. And stop cursing at me.
The doorbell rings. I set my phone down and walk over to open it. It rings again. I pull it open and really wish I wasn’t wearing an apron.
Or anything.
Ah-Ri looks adorable in her little adidas outfit. I almost forget to ask her to come in. Her eyebrows arch.
She’s pretty—without makeup and with it—but something about the pink tone of her lips drives me crazy.
“Oh, sorry. Come in.” I open the door wider and check out her ass in those sweats when she takes off her shoes, slipping her feet into the slippers we keep by the door for guests.
She bends over just once.
And all I can whisper under my breath is, “Sshi-Bal.”
Fuck.
“What’s wrong?” Ah-Ri turns around and puts her hands on her hips.
I close my eyes quickly. “I just got dust in my eyes from…outside.”
I open one eye.
Ah-Ri looks behind me. “From the hallway?”
I rub my eyes and clear my throat. “Yeah, we have really dusty hallways here.”
“Okayyyyy.” Great, so I’ve made her hate me more, and now she thinks I’m a dumbass besides.
The doorbell saves me.
I turn and open the door yet again.
Jisoo stands there holding her arms in front of her as if she needs a barrier between the world and herself.
She’s wearing loose black track pants, some worn-looking Nikes, and a big hoodie.
I breathe a sigh of relief, thankful that she’s comfortable enough around us that she doesn’t feel the need to dress up for a group dinner—or, I guess, a meeting. She sneezes the minute she opens her mouth to say hi, and I’m suddenly so thankful for her nervousness because it proves my dust theory.
She has her hair slicked back into a smooth ponytail, a pink stain on her lips, and looks petrified to talk to me.