-Jennie-
I'm Jennie Kim, and I am walking, talking cliché.
I caught my boyfriend cheating—and I stupidly forgave him.
He proposed—and I stupidly said yes.
I caught him cheating again—and I stopped being an idiot and dumped his ass.
And what do I earn for my train wreck of a five-year relationship? Hearing the gag-worthy story of him proposing in Town Square to the woman he cheated with, and the second embarrassment of knowing that they're tying the knot today—four months after we broke off our engagement.
Today is the wedding, and no amount of alcohol will help me forget.
That doesn't stop me from trying, and where better than in a public place? That's why I'm stupidly getting my drink on at the Down Home Pub—the only bar in Blue Beech.
I took a sip from my flask after Jisoo's departure earlier today and then put it back in case anything work-related dropped onto my desk. When five o'clock hit, I headed straight to the pub, and I'm now sitting at the bar in the corner where the brokenhearted linger.
A slight buzz is hitting me as I trace the names scratched into the wood of the bar with my finger. All day, I've forced myself to remember the worst of Jongin—the cheating, him being not so great in bed, and his shitty sense of humor. My intoxicated mind needs to be reminded that dropping him was the best thing to happen to me.
Who wants to live the rest of their life with shitty sex and a cheating bastard of a boyfriend?
Not this girl.
"Well, well, well, if it's not-my-favorite reporter. You here, stalking around, waiting for someone to create a scene, so you can write an article about it tomorrow?"
That motherfucking voice.
I knock back the rest of my drink, needing the liquid courage, and tilt my gaze forward to find Jisoo sitting a few stools down from mine. Unlike me, she's changed out of her work clothes and into something more comfortable. A red plaid flannel covers her shoulders, and a backward ball cap.
"If it's not-my-favorite asshole," I reply before swirling my tongue in my mouth to capture any lingering excess alcohol. To deal with her, I need to be as drunk as possible.
"Oh, favorite? I like that." She winks, stands up, and comes my way even though I'm not sending an I want company vibe. "Maybe I'll work my way up to your favorite fuck."
I roll my eyes. "I take it back. Just asshole, delete the prefix."
Her scent and proximity drag me into a high stronger than anything behind the bar will.
"What do you want, Jisoo?"
She smirks—a sign she came over to fuck with me. "Didn't expect you to show your face in public tonight."
"Fuck off."
"You're plastered," she states.
I shoot her a glare. "And you're an asshole. A smart one, with your very intelligent revelation, but still a definite asshole."
She rests her elbow on the bar and leans into it while facing me. "Are asshole and fuck your favorite words in the dictionary?"
"Only when it comes to you."
She places her palm over her chest. "Aw, I'm flattered I have a special place in your brain."
"Fuck off."
