Owning You - A Na Jaemin Fanfic

67. The Girl in the Mirror

"Are you seriously wearing that?" Jaemin glares at the hem of my dress.

"That, for your information, is my little black dress." I say loftily. "Perfect for the occasion."

"It certainly can't get any more littler than that," he mutters under his breath. I ignore him.

Jaemin and I are on our way to a party.

"So who's throwing the party?"

"Taemin, my senior. Third Year Medicine."

"Will your girlfriend be there?"

"My girlfr - fuck, Haeri, for the last time, Jenni is not my girlfriend!" Jaemin roars, tightening his hands on the steering wheel. "I thought I made that clear."

"Whatever." I stare glumly ahead. "So, will Genie be there?"

"Ge - " Jaemin draws a deep breath. Rakes a hand through his hair. "Probably."

I growl low, like my grandmother's dog, just before it turned rabid, and had to be put down.

Jaemin shoots me a startled look.

"She hangs out there a lot." Jaemin gives me a sidelong glance. "Behave yourself, okay?"

"As long as Vampirella behaves herself."

I rummage through my purse. "Ah, there you are."

"What are you doing?"

"Checking my pepper spray."

"Pepper spray?"

"To make sure it works."

"Works?" Geez, he's like a damn parrot. It's starting to annoy me.

"On Demon Seed. She starts running her mouth, I swear I'm going to spray this down her throat."

"Oh, God, Haeri. Give me that."

He snatches the pepper spray from me. I fume. I don't tell him I've got another in my purse.

The house is in the surburbs.

Loud music is pumping from the house as we walk in.

Jaemin introduces me to the host, Taemin, a rosy-cheeked guy with a mop of hair, and the rest of his friends as his wife, and there are a lot of gasps and good-natured jibes. I recognise Jenni, who smiles tightly at me. She turns to Jaemin, and her face morphs from cold to warm in less than a second.

"Right, I want you lot on your feet and dancing," Taemin orders bossily, as he thrusts a bottle of beer into Jaemin's palm.

"I don't dance," Jenni says primly. I roll my eyes. Jaemin gives me a warning look.

A couple vacate one of the battered sofas.

"Perhaps you would like to join me on one of these lovely sofas," Jaemin says, and collapses into its creaky springs. I laugh and flop down next to him. A young man who looks the worse for wear comes and sits next to me on the sofa. He has a tattoo of a sumo wrestler on his shaven head. Jaemin mutters something indecipherable, scoops me up and deposits me on his lap.

"What are you doing?" I squeal. He gives me a lazy smirk.

"Don't want you catching anything off him," he whispers in my ear. I feel the hard muscles of his thighs. Flirtatiously, I look at him from beneath my lashes. He puts his hands on my bare knees and pulls me snug against him. Tickles me.

"Stop it," I giggle. I wriggle a little.

He gives a little moan. "Don't move. Or I'll take you home now."