𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 || 𝐉.𝐉𝐊 ✓

⊘ • ❶ʘ • ⊘

𓆩・༺ ꔫ ༻・𓆪

After a few minutes of being left alone, I find myself thinking about earlier. My fingertips graze my bottom lip from the intensity of his lips on mine.

I won't deny it; I enjoyed it. For the first time in my life, I know what all the girls in my grade were talking about.

Being touched by someone else, no matter how small the action, is a burning flame to every core of a person's soul. Now, I know exactly what they meant by how electrifying the sensation is.

Of course, I don't think any differently about Jungkook. I will admit he's an amazing kisser, but nothing more, nothing less. He's helping me, and I'm helping him. I follow his terms on this mission, and I go back to the warehouse with promises of protection awaiting me. It doesn't sound too bad of a deal from where I'm standing.

I can imagine some of my high school friends—actually acquaintances—looking at me right now and judging every move I make with my life. I can see one of the girls looking at me now with shame from going on this mission with a guy alone, especially since it's the two of us.

Despite her sleeping around with dozens of guys in our grade, she could freely slut-shame anyone and pretend she doesn't do the same. If anyone were to wonder why I was ever close with her during school, it was a mutual friendship, if friendship is even the right term.

She needed to be friends with a poor girl so she could feel better about herself, and I needed to be friends with a rich girl to feel better about myself, too. I didn't want to be labeled as poor; I wanted to be treated as a normal girl for my age. With her, I felt like it was okay to pretend to be someone I'm not.

As for the other three friends, they would be urging me into having sex. They were needy friends who wanted to know the most secretive of secrets and would talk behind the other's back about them.

Like my rich friend who could slut-shame, they made me feel like a normal girl, too. I never said my friendships were as if we were the bestest friends in the world and would never be torn apart. We were close for the time being. My rich friend traveled across seas to head for a university in Europe, and my other three friends are living somewhat better lives than me. I know one is engaged, the other is currently pregnant, and the last I heard, one of them left the city.

I heard those stories months ago when I last saw my rich friend before she left for college. By now, the one is married, the other is already a mother, and so on. However, as weird as it sounds, I don't remember their names. I remember I mostly labeled them in my mind as rich girl and her followers, but really, that's not right considering I'm a follower, too, even here with Jungkook I'm a follower.

Letting my thoughts vanish, I fall back on the bedsheets, staring up at the old ceiling.

"What a mess I've gotten myself into," I whisper amongst myself, letting my distant thoughts speak through my mouth.

When the bathroom door opens, I find myself easing up to a sitting position while watching Jungkook come out of the bathroom with steam emerging past the open door.

He walks out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped behind his neck, a grey, jersey, muscle tee shirt, and a pair of black shorts on his body. His hair is still damp, droplets on the ends of his locks soaking into the fabric covering his chest.