Girlfriend | pt 1
-> You don't like Han Jisung's girlfriend. He needs a new one.
nerd!jisung x fem!reader
strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst, hurt / comfort, college!au, suggestive
5.2K
warnings: reader has low self worth and a poor self image hidden behind shamelessness, mentions of infidelity, cursing, inappropriate clothes and flirting, kissing, dancing (Jisung is a complete gentleman), a college party with alcohol, suggestive comments and sexual themes, reader is an unreliable narrator
Inspired by Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne
series mlist
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He’s kissing you like he's been starved for days.
Fingers digging into your waist. Mouth moving hard and messy against yours like you’re the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him (which, let's be honest, you probably are).
But there's way too much tongue. His other hand slipped under your shirt like five minutes ago and still hasn't figured out what to do.
You tilt your head away and let him kiss your neck under the impression that you're super into this. Let him think he’s turning you on, so you don't have to battle his bad breath and clanking teeth.
He’s fine. Definitely not deserving of the hype around his skills, but he's not the worst you've encountered.
Kinda cute. A little too eager. Doing all the same things every other guy does. He skimmed the manual as most guys do, so he's got the basics down…sorta. But he doesn't understand the assignment.
You got him easy. A glance, a smile, a brush of your fingers under his jaw, and he was tripping over his own feet to follow you upstairs. Practically on his knees as you dragged him into a spare bedroom.
But he's not anything great, despite what his cocky smirk and dirty talk may lead you to think. No matter how many times he says, “You like that?” You, in fact, do not like that.
You give him two more seconds, then pull back.
“I’m a little thirsty…” you say, letting your breath hitch just enough to sound aroused, even though you’re perfectly fine.
He blinks, dazed. “Oh uh. I’ll grab you something from the kitchen–”
You place a finger on his lips, inching closer to press your body against his, intimidating and intoxicating enough to silence his stuttering immediately.
“You know what would be really hot? I'll go get a drink, and when I come back, I want you naked on the bed, waiting for me. Okay?”
It'd be a lie to say you've never seen a dude’s eyes bug out of his head like that before. Because you have. About a hundred times. It doesn't entice you at all anymore, at least not from this doormat.
He nods frantically, already starting to strip as you walk out the door, not even a glance over your shoulder.
You don’t want a drink. Alcohol only weakens the senses and makes sex worse, in your opinion. It's only good for two things: motivation and boredom.
This party is trash. The music is worse. Not even the thrill of being wanted by the campus hunk is doing it for you tonight.
The whistles and catcalls are background noise at this point. They don't even register in the back of your mind. Guys always look; that’s just how it is. You’re beautiful, and not by accident. You’ve spent years of effort, time, and money perfecting every detail of yourself, so why shouldn't guys stare?
Being irresistible isn't a gift -- it's a carefully honed skill.
Usually, these parties offer some kind of talent. Some kind of excitement that keeps you from becoming this dangerously bored. But every guy here has either already slept with you or isn't even worth it.
Except…hold on, there may be one last hope in the building after all.
Han Jisung. The campus leader of the nerds.
If there's one thing you can do, it's spot talent. Han Jisung is hot. His hotness just happens to be disguised by bangs that are in desperate need of a perm, oversized outdated sweater vests, glasses, and nerdy vocabulary. (Actually, the glasses work for him, you can't lie).
He's slouched on an upstairs hallway couch all alone, thumbs tapping his phone. Thighs spread. Arms surprisingly solid. Pastel sweater vest loose around his waist with a button up underneath.
You're surprised, honestly, because a party like this one is definitely not his scene. Why is he even here? And even more importantly, why is he here looking like that?
His whole vibe screams easy. Soft-spoken. Submissive. Gullible. The kind of guy who wouldn't know he was being taken advantage of until he was shirtless on the bed with his wrists tied to the headboard.
You smirk to yourself.
This could be a fun little ride. As far as you know he's inexperienced and alone. No harm, no foul. A little bit of corruption is typical for guys his age anyway.
You pop one more button on your blouse, fan yourself dramatically, and start walking, hips swinging just enough to catch attention.
Let’s see how long it takes him to crack.
“Mind if I sit?” you ask, already halfway into the empty space beside him.
He looks up, startled, then shifts slightly. “Oh, uh, sure.”
“Thanks,” you sigh, smoothing your miniskirt as you settle in. “It’s hard to find a place to sit down at one of these.”
He nods once, polite but distracted, and goes right back to his phone, thumbs tapping out a message.
You stretch like a cat, legs out and back arched with an exaggerated groan that sounds way too suggestive for a simple stretch, shoulders rolling, bumping into him on purpose.
“Oops! Sorry,” you giggle, voice light and airy. “I’m just so stiff. You don’t mind if I…?” You motion vaguely like you’re going to take up a little more space.
He shakes his head. “No, that's fine," he says, already scooting over to give you more room.
But you stretch again and end up even closer, blouse opening like an invitation. You let your head fall back just so, thighs rubbing together subtly and knees turned in, letting the angle do the work for you.
He blinks in your direction before adjusting in his seat and refocusing on his phone. Not as much of a reaction as you were hoping for, but he's not invincible.
You let your eyes drift over him lazily, a slow and deliberate scan up and down. “Not much of a drinker?”
“Huh?” He looks at you now, intentionally not looking below your chin.
You point to the untouched cup sitting on the table beside him.
“Oh, that’s not mine,” he says.
“A friend’s?”
“I don’t know. It was here when I sat down.”
“Hmm.” You lean in slightly, letting your finger trail down his arm for a second. “Would you like to get a drink with me then?”
Ah, yes. There's a face you recognize. That stunned expression that can't believe someone like you wants to drink with someone like him. Finally, some territory you're used to and thrive in.
He offers a breathless chuckle as his expression fixes itself into a small, apologetic smile. “No, thank you.”
You pout, drawing it out like a playful game. “Mmm, no fun. Come on, you’re at a party. Loosen up a bit. It wouldn't take much. Just one drink?”
“I came with someone else.”
“Oh, I get it,” you tease. “You got dragged along.”
“No,” he says quickly. “I mean, yes. But I wanted to come.”
“Wait, I’m confused. Did you get dragged or did you actually want to be here?”
“I wanted to be dragged here…for someone else.”
You blink, amused. “That’s incredibly cryptic of you.”
He doesn’t respond, just checks his phone again and peers down the hallway like he’s expecting someone to appear any minute now. But no one shows. His face drops.
You grin at the empty hall and the perfect opportunity to make your move. “Well, they obviously didn't mind leaving you all alone,” you purr, fingertips barely grazing the inside of his thigh. “How about you hang out with me for a bit instead? I'm open to anything.”
He stiffens, not pulling away but not leaning in either. “You’re very beautiful,” he says, voice low and sincere, "but I’m not really interested in a one night stand. Thanks, though.”
A beat of silence stretches, the rejection not stinging, but definitely surprising. “Come on,” you laugh, almost disbelieving. “I’m guaranteeing you a score. You can brag to all your friends that I let you play out all your nerdiest fantasies.”
He shrugs, sheepish. “Sorry.”
“You sure?” You lean in a little closer, tilting your head to place your lips beside his ear. “We don’t have to call it a one night stand. It could just be our dirty little secret–”
“I have a girlfriend.”
“Oh.” You move away. Not in shock, just mild annoyance. “Why didn’t you say that from the beginning?”
“I honestly didn't expect you to ask me to sleep with you, so…”
You sit back, suddenly over it. The heat in your gaze cools, lips flattening into something disinterested, body language slumping against the couch as you button up your blouse.
“Yeah, well I don’t go for committed guys. Cheating’s not my game. I’m trying to wreck your innocence, not your relationship.”
He sits frozen for a beat, blinking at you like he’s trying to recalibrate. His brows draw together, confusion flickering in his eyes as he tries to figure out where your sudden switch came from and what it means.
You look over to see him staring at you.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he says quickly, fixing his face.
You gesture lazily toward the cup on the table. “Hand me that.”
“That might not be the best idea. I mean, there's no way to know where or who–”
You cut him off by reaching across his body and taking it for yourself. “For god's sake, what are you, my dad?”
Before he can reply, you’re already tipping it back, draining it in one go.
“If I’m gonna be bored at a party, might as well be buzzed. You were the last decent guy here anyway,” you mutter, tongue tapping the inside of your cheek as the disappointment settles. You glance back at him. “Sorry for stroking your thigh.”
"That's okay," he chuckles, the sound soft and surprisingly nonchalant. And then he says something you definitely weren't expecting. "To be honest, it's the most action I've gotten in a while."
You stick out your bottom lip in playful pity. "Aw, your girlfriend doesn't stroke your thigh?"
"It's not that…" he rubs the back of his neck, the tips of his ears turning faintly pink.
"Hold on, don't tell me your girlfriend doesn't do it for you?"
"Of course, she does," he says quickly, glancing up defensively. "She’s amazing and beautiful and everything a guy could want."
"But?"
He hesitates, then exhales. "But…we haven't…"
"You haven't had sex with her yet?"
He gives a small, silent nod, his eyes dropping to his phone in his hands.
“I'm sensing this is a sore spot in your relationship?”
He shrugs, not really answering but not denying anything either.
“How long have you been together?”
“Three months.” Jisung narrows his eyes slightly afterward. “Wait. Why am I telling you all this?”
“The mystical power of oversharing with a stranger at a college party.”
He snorts quietly.
You tilt your head, pretending to think it over seriously. “Three months though…I guess some people are capable of waiting that long. Personally, I would’ve jumped you in the back seat of a car by now--"
He lets out a shy giggle at that, his smile flawed but real. His fingers fidget with the edge of his phone case, and you can't help but find the habit endearing.
“--but everyone goes at their own pace. Maybe she’s just waiting,” you say with a shrug, keeping your tone easy and gentle.
“Maybe,” Jisung murmurs, not quite meeting your eyes. “She’s not usually the waiting type.”
“Oooh, okay, so let’s talk theories,” you say, suddenly perking up with mock-serious enthusiasm. “Potential reasons your girlfriend hasn’t slept with you after three months. Go."
Although clearly a little unsure of the direction this is heading, he doesn’t shut you down. He seems surprisingly okay with it actually. At least, more comfortable than he expected to be considering you sat down earlier with your boobs out and your hand on his leg.
But now, you're kneeling on the couch beside him like you’re at a middle school sleepover ready to spill secrets, and you’re...kind of adorable. Way easier to talk to when you’re not actively trying to seduce him.
“She’s nervous about her first time?” you offer, tapping your chin in thought.
“She’s not a virgin,” he says immediately, adding a mumbled, “not even close.”
“Okay, then…maybe she’s waiting until she falls in love with you to be sure.”
“She already told me she loves me,” he says, but his tone is uncertain. “Plus, she slept with her last boyfriend without saying it.”
“Oh. Alright then. Maybe she doesn’t want to push you into anything too fast.”
“I told her I was ready whenever she was,” he replies. “She still turned me down.”
You lean back against the couch with a dramatic sigh. “Damn. Is she questioning her sexuality or something?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Maybe she’s worried about your size.” You let the words hang for effect before dragging your teeth over your bottom lip. “Although, I find that theory hard to believe.”
“My eyes are up here,” Jisung jests with two of his fingers directing your line of sight away from his lap.
Caught, you drag your gaze back up before giving him an exaggerated little pout. The faint smile tugging at his lips makes it worth it. Shit, he’s really cute when he tries to play it cool.
It’s unfair how someone can be this awkward and still somehow pull off sexy. The way he tries to scold you with a joke instead of shutting you down immediately. It shouldn’t work, but it does. And when his mouth quirks like that, you find yourself growing increasingly aggressive over how stupid pink his lips are.
“Well, then I’m out of theories,” you say, throwing your hands up in surrender.
You pause for a moment, chewing on your lip. There’s actually one more theory lingering at the tip of your tongue, but you don’t say it. You don’t want to be the downer who suggests that maybe she just doesn’t want to sleep with him. You have no idea what kind of insecurities Jisung quietly wrestles with when no one’s looking, and tonight, you’re not in the mood to play therapist.
Instead, you glance over at him and nudge his arm gently. “I’m sure she has her reasons. Girls are weird sometimes.”
He sighs, and it seems as though he's been grappling with this issue for some time, “Yeah, I guess…”
You squint at him, leaning closer as if investigating something suspicious. “What’s with the face?”
“What face?”
“That face,” you insist, pointing a finger at his nose, moving in closer to boop it because you can't help yourself. “The one that says you’ve got one more theory.”
“I don’t,” he says, a little too fast, nose wriggling.
“Share with the class, nerd.”
He exhales slowly, fingers fidgeting with his phone case to stall. “I mean, maybe…it crossed my mind before that, maybe, she doesn’t think I’m…”
“She doesn’t think you’re what?” you whisper, tilting your head like you’re coaxing a secret out of him.
“Attractive."
For a half second, you just stare at him. Then you burst out laughing so hard your arm curls over your stomach and your other hand lands on his shoulder for balance. “Wait, seriously? Is she blind or blonde? Because that’s the stupidest theory yet.”
“It is?”
“Yeah!” you exclaim, still half-laughing.
“So…” He clears his throat, sitting up a little straighter, a small shred of confidence growing in his voice. “Do you think I’m...?"
"Hot?"
He nods.
Your smile says you've been there, survived that. You remember what it felt like to second-guess the mirror, to wonder if anyone would ever actually look twice. It makes his doubt feel familiar and makes you feel responsible for helping the poor little mochi.
“Oh, nerds are always underratedly hot. It’s a fact.”
“What do you mean?”
You prop your elbow on the back of the couch, ticking points off on your fingers. “Well, for one, you guys have spent how many hours watching the same, repetitive anime? That’s commitment. Two, you’ve built teamwork and leadership skills playing those online RGT shooter game things."
"RPG's."
"Whatever. And three,” you spread your legs just an inch and angle your hips toward him, flashing a teasing grin, “all that hand-eye coordination? You just need someone to show you how to put it to good use.”
His eyes flicker down for a split second before darting away again, his face heating up fast and sudden. He's cute when he's shy. But he also totally looked and you totally liked it.
“Well,” he coughs, trying not to stare, “thanks for thinking so highly of us.”
“Mhm.” You grin, biting back the urge to tease him further. “So where is your girlfriend, anyway?”
“Talking to some friends, I think.”
“You think?"
He shifts in his seat, eyes darting toward the muffled bass thumping down the hall. “Well, she said she wanted to come here to see friends, so…”
“But you don’t actually know where she is right now?”
He shrugs.
You tilt your head, softening your tone. “So, your girlfriend brought you to a party just so you could sit on a couch in the hallway and do nothing while she has a good time without you?"
“No,” he says quickly, “she brought me so I could get out of my comfort zone while supporting her in the things she likes to do too."
Your nose scrunches in disapproval. “Her words, I’m assuming?”
He nods earnestly, bangs bouncing a little with the motion. Wide and warm brown eyes like a cup of boba tea, all sweet and round and way too easy to get lost in. Does this girl even know what she's got? If Jisung was your boytoy, you'd be staring into those eyes all night.
You gesture vaguely toward the chaos humming from the main room downstairs. “Well, like I said, you can hang out with me if you want. Since your girlfriend clearly doesn’t care."
“I’m not going to sleep with you."
“Disappointing, but not what I meant.” You wave him off with a dramatic flick of your wrist. “I meant we could actually hang out and enjoy the party. If you’re not gonna let me sit on your face, I’m not really interested in anyone else here.”
You expect him to choke on air, fan his scarlet cheeks, or at least flash you some of those wide, innocent boba eyes. Instead, he lets out this low, easy laugh, warm enough to make your stomach twist. He’s laughing with you, like the two of you just slipped into some weird, half-flirty inside joke no one else gets to know.
It catches you off guard a little. Because that's like the fourth or fifth time he's laughed during this conversation. Most people don’t think you’re all that funny. They think you’re sexy. A body to be used. But Jisung looks at you like you’re a real person with timing and wit. For a second, you're not sure how to react.
He cocks his head to the side, eyes crinkling at the corners. "You’re weird, you know that?”
“Weird?” you repeat in humorous disgust. “Most people call me hot.”
“I mean, you are hot, obviously.” He gestures to you up and down, but you don't feel disrespected or like an object when he does it. “But you're weird. In a good way.”
"I'm going to take that as a compliment," you decide, suddenly feeling very comfortable with the nerd you tried to bag. “So what do you want to do to get out of your comfort zone?”
“What do people usually do at parties like this?” he asks, a little skeptical.
“Make out,” you reply without missing a beat.
His ears go red, but he hides the cute reaction with a dramatic eye roll and a scoff. “Right. What else do people do at parties besides that?”
“Dance. Drink. Dance some more. Make out again. That’s pretty much the whole idea."
“Well, we’ve already established that we’re not making out--"
"Again, disappointing."
"--and I don't really drink."
You glance up at him with a hopeful eyebrow raised. “So...dance?”
“I’m not a very good dancer,” he admits.
“Can you move your hips to a beat?”
“Probably.”
“Then you’ll be fine.” You hop to your feet and offer your hand. “Come on. I'll help you.”
Jisung hesitates for a second before taking a breath. “I don’t even know your name.”
"___."
And for some reason, the atmosphere shifts after you tell him, something settling into place, subtly but undeniably.
“___,” he repeats slowly, testing it out under his breath before looking back up at you. "I'm Jisung."
Yes, you already knew that, but that doesn't stop your stomach from flipping.
He said your name so carefully, as if committing it to memory. And when your eyes meet his again, something inside you starts to violently rattle your bones.
He’s just sitting there, looking up at you with the hugest, brownest eyes you've ever had the pleasure of getting lost in, so warm and soft and stupidly pretty under the dim house lights. And you swear they actually sparkle a little when he smiles. The kind of smile that mimics a little kid who's just found an unexpected friend.
Is this what he looks like when he's genuinely happy? Oh fuck, that expression on him is dangerous. Suddenly, you don’t just want to flirt with Han Jisung.
You want to keep him. So badly, your confidence falters for the first time that entire night.
He eyes your hand before slowly standing – without taking it. You notice the deliberate avoidance and bite back a teasing comment about his height being only a couple inches more than yours.
“If we’re going to dance,” you attempt to say casually, “you’re gonna have to be okay with at least a little touching.”
“But I have a girlfriend,” he says quickly.
“I’m not gonna grind on your crotch, nerd. Chill. I just meant the dance floor is crowded and sometimes people get close," you tell him with a drawn out tone. “It’s innocent. Just follow the beat and have fun, alright? Like I said, I don’t go after committed guys.”
“Okay.” He bounces his shoulders and takes a deep breath in preparation. “Getting out of my comfort zone. Trying something new. Let's dance then.”
Making your way to the main room, the two of you push into the crowd, weaving toward the middle of the dance floor. The bass hums through your chest as you start to move with the rhythm, spinning, swaying, bouncing in any way you please. It feels good to let it all out after such a disappointing make out sesh and then an even more disappointing attempt to bed the hot nerd.
Jisung is awkward as hell, unsure of where to place his limbs, but you keep it light and easy until he's at least got the beat of the song in his knees. You stay close enough to share energy but never touch, aside from the accidental brush of your hands or shoulders.
He smiles at you more than once, shouts something into the space, but you can't understand a word he says. And unexpectedly, amongst the awkward bouncing and foot tapping, he drops some pretty strange but hilarious dance moves that have you throwing your head back in the kind of laughter you haven't laughed in god knows how long.
It's all fun and games until some sleezy stranger slides up behind you.
You feel him before you see him, his hand grazing your waist as he tries to grind against you without so much as a word. Immediately, you stiffen and try to step away, but he persists, following you closely. You try to dance away from him again, and yet, he sticks to you like gum on your shoe.
In a final attempt, you end up spinning around and harshly pushing him away before taking Jisung by the wrist and going to a different part of the dance floor.
The pervert takes a step back, still grooving to the music. But he doesn't miss a beat before he starts making his way back to you, eyes like a predator, ruthless and not taking no for an answer.
This is not the first time you've been groped at a party, so you're not shocked by his behavior. But it still makes you uncomfortable to an alarming degree.
You can see him approaching you again, so you ready yourself to either ditch or start using your claws.
But then, right before the guy reaches you, there’s a gentle tug on your waist. Without saying a word, Jisung moves in behind you, sliding seamlessly into place and boxing the guy out. The stranger takes one look at him and backs off, muttering something under his breath before disappearing into the crowd.
You expect Jisung to step away now that the coast is clear, but he doesn’t.
He stays behind you.
His body mirrors yours, close but not too close, the heat of him warming your back but never sweaty. His hips move, just enough to match your rhythm. His hands hover at your sides, never touching, respecting a boundary you definitely didn’t set, but could if you wanted to.
You keep dancing, your bodies moving in sync, the pulse of the music taking over. At one point, you throw it back just a little harder, and your hips briefly connect with his. He freezes, just for a second, then picks the beat back up, fluid again. Relaxing a little more.
But he still doesn’t touch you.
He simply lets you exist, never moving away but keeping a respectful inch of space between your ass and his jeans.
And maybe it’s the music, or the crowd, or the feeling of finally enjoying yourself without the overhanging threat of being groped by a random dude. But you really like the way Jisung feels behind you. The way he lets you lead. The way he responds without expecting anything.
The only time he actually touches you is when another guy tries to squeeze in, to sandwich you or take Jisung's place. As if on cue, Jisung gently slides his arm around the front of your tummy, grabs your hip, and guides you to a safer part of the floor.
That one touch makes you tremble.
Every guy you’ve ever danced with had the same agenda. They never said it outright, but you always knew. From the moment their hands slid too low on your waist, from the way they pressed into you, hungry on your neck – dancing was just an excuse. They wanted friction, not fun. Touch for the sake of getting off. Every time, it felt less like dancing and more like foreplay.
But Jisung doesn’t touch you like that. He doesn't touch you at all unless someone else gets too close, and even then, it’s just enough to guide you out of their reach, his hand a buffer instead of a claim. He doesn't treat you like a body to grind on. He treats you like someone to protect.
And it messes with your head more than it should.
Because he dances with you like it’s not about him. Like it’s not about what he could get out of it. He doesn’t take anything from you – he moves with you. Matches your rhythm. Respects your space, even when the music begs for something sweatier and grittier. Even when your body betrays you and pushes into him. He still doesn't cross a line.
He makes sure you’re safe even when outside his comfort zone.
…no one’s ever done that before.
Your stomach knots, tight and unrelenting. You don’t know what to do with this kind of care. Especially when it comes from someone who belongs to someone else.
Shit. He has a girlfriend.
Suddenly, the fun drains out of the moment. You turn in his arms to face him instead.
He looks wrecked in the softest way. Hair a little messy, strands falling out of place from where he brushed it back with his fingers. There’s a flush on his cheeks and under his glasses. The warmth of the dance still lingers in his knees and feet. His top clings a bit tighter from the heat, collar askew under his sweater vest, and there’s a hint of sweat at his temples, just enough to make him look real and touchable.
His eyes find yours, brighter now, somehow dazed but also more focused. They look at you like he might have a different answer if you asked to sleep with him now. Maybe not yes. But maybe not a no either.
You were drawn to him before. But damn...
“We should stop,” you say, pulling him off the floor. “That was...I had a lot of fun.”
He nods, slightly winded but still smiling. “Yeah, it was...certainly something. Umm, do guys usually harass you like that when you're dancing?”
“Oh, that? Yeah, that's normal. What can I say, my ass has a fanclub. I should start charging rent for how often guys try to park behind it.” You laugh a little, but there’s no real humor in your voice. It’s just muscle memory now, a joke you’ve told a hundred times as if it's normal.
Because it is normal. For you, at least.
Somewhere along the way, you stopped expecting more than a whistle and an ass grab. Being wanted meant being touched. Being seen meant being stared at. So no, it doesn’t feel demeaning. It doesn’t even sting anymore. It's just annoying sometimes.
That's just the way it is.
But Jisung doesn’t laugh.
He doesn’t roll his eyes or even awkwardly grin. He just looks at you, and for a second, it feels like he sees too much.
His expression isn’t pity. It’s not even sadness. It’s something sharper.
Like he’s looking straight past your smirk, past the shrug in your voice, and right into that tiny, buried part of you that winces every time you talk like this. The part that doesn’t actually believe what you’re saying, but says it anyway because it’s easier than dealing with your actual problems.
He doesn’t call you out. Doesn’t challenge you.
He just looks at you like he knows. Like he hears the echo under the humor. And that silent refusal to play along lands harder than anything you were ready for.
Instead of replying to your comment, he says, “I’ve never done anything like that before. I kinda get why people like parties now.”
"Maybe we can do it again sometime?"
The words slip out before you can reel them back in, and instant panic floods your nerves like a bucket of ice water dumped over your head.
Never ask to see a guy twice. That’s rule number one! Have fun, leave, don’t text, don’t linger, and definitely don’t hand over an open invitation when he's already spoken for.
Technically, you didn’t hook up with Jisung -- you didn't even kiss him -- so maybe that’s where the sudden bravery is stemming from. But still, the same principle applies. There should be no attachments of any kind.
And yet here you are, tossing your own rulebook out the damn window just because he didn't put his hand down your pants and looks kinda cute with messy hair and flushed cheeks.
Seriously, what the hell are you thinking?
Just then, his phone buzzes in his back pocket. He checks it, and you catch the flicker of recognition in his eyes.
“She just texted me. I should go meet her by the front door.”
You nod, not trusting your voice. You should just walk away, go back to dancing or grab another drink, but your legs move without asking permission. You follow him, weaving between bodies until the thump of the music fades into the background.
“Hey!” Jisung calls when he sees her, picking up the pace to meet her just outside the building.
And then she appears. Framed in the open doorway, backlit by the porch light, scanning the crowd with a soft, practiced smile.
She steps forward with a squeal, tossing her arms around his neck like they haven't seen each other in months. Jisung smiles down at her, and you freeze, blood icing over.
Oh.
You know her.
You know her.
She used to be infamous on campus, a walking cautionary tale dressed in heels and lace stockings. The stories about her were endless (and most of them were true because you saw them happen). You’ve watched her crawl out of dorm room windows at dawn, take off her top for free drinks, sneak guys into her room at god forsaken hours of the night.
And worse? You saw her two months ago sneaking into your ex-boyfriend’s dorm while you were busy plotting revenge on him yourself.
If Jisung’s been dating her for three months…you do the math.
Your lips press into a thin line.
Don’t say anything -- it’s not your place. But your spine straightens painfully. Your head starts pounding. And deep in your chest, something settles with quiet conviction.
If she’s the one he’s committed to, and she’s a liar with grabby hands and no concept of loyalty, then you don’t really feel bad for wanting him anymore.
Jisung needs a new girlfriend.
::
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