Ever since you accidentally spilled your lunch on Im Youngmin, the popular chaebol senior with money and fame, he’s seemed to hate you. However, when some odd photos of the two of you arguing appear in a tabloid, he has a solution as to how you can make up for it– pretend to be his girlfriend.
read ch.1 here | read ch. 8 here | read ch 10 here
There was a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach, one that you weren’t used to—nerves. Today was the big day for your dance team. You and Jung Jung had been preparing for this moment since summer had started.
The two of you had signed up to compete as a duo in the big summer competition. Winning it would put your studio on the map, and give both you and Jung Jung recognition both as dancers and as choreographers.
You shook your head and rolled out from under the covers, shuffling towards the bathroom to start getting ready. Chungha and Yoojung had set out your outfit for the performance, and had given you very specific instructions for your makeup and hair. After brushing your teeth and washing your face, you got started on the makeup, carefully checking your phone frequently to make sure you were doing it properly.
Once your makeup looked reasonably okay, you did your best to style your hair, and then tugged the outfit on. Given how much time it had taken Chungha and Yoojung to finally settle on one, you were surprised at the simplicity of the black leggings and coral sweater.
On the bathroom counter next to you, your phone started buzzing from notifications. Seeing that it was Youngmin, you picked up.
“Hey, I’m here,” Youngmin said cheerfully. You had been surprised when Youngmin agreed to come to the event, given that his own dance group would be performing, without him. He’d assured you that he’d be alright, explaining that he’d rather go and experience being in the audience than distance himself entirely.
“Okay, I’ll be right down,” you replied, hurrying to scoop up your duffel bag. The hot summer air washed over you as soon as you left the house, and you ran down to where Youngmin’s car was waiting.
“Excited?” Youngmin asked, glancing over at you with a small smile before starting up the car.
“Nervous,” you confessed, leaning your head back against the headrest.
“To be honest, I am too,” Youngmin sighed, “for my own team. This is the first time that I wasn’t involved in anything for them, and I really want them to do well.”
You glanced over at Youngmin, feeling bad, “you know, you don’t have to follow your father’s words every time. You’re living your own life.”
Youngmin smiled wistfully over at you. “It’s not always that easy.” You shrugged. On the one hand, you understood that he needed to be realistic. After all, Youngmin would have to make a living, and the realistic route wasn’t necessarily the one that followed his dreams. But still, you’d seen the way he looked when he danced. It was like a whole different person in Youngmin’s skin, someone happier and more cheerful. “Anyways, it’ll be good for my father to see me there.”
“Why’s that?” You didn’t really see the connection from you dancing to his father.
“You know, he sees I can watch a dance performance without being in it, he thinks I’ll never dance again,” Youngmin shrugged, “win-win.” You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Youngmin’s side profile, as he ran a hand through his hair, focused on the road ahead. The lights from the street danced across his face, and you shook your head, looking out to the street as well.
“You need to live for yourself,” you murmured, not thinking he would hear.
Youngmin’s gaze flickered over to you for a split second before turning back to the road.
The bright lights warmed your skin, a feeling that you had missed. You were onstage alone as you took your starting position, ready to start as the opening notes of the song started.
The two of you had settled on The Hills by the Weeknd, with you dancing a solo to the verse by Nicki Minaj at the beginning. Jung Jung had insisted on having a section that was just you dancing, since he’d had a solo in the last choreography that you’d done.
Your body moved like it was second nature, having gone through the motions that it was like second nature. Jung Jung soon joined you onstage as the chorus started, holding firmly onto your waist as he slowly dipped you back.
The dance was incredibly intimate, with a lot of touching, but you and Jung Jung were practically siblings; you’d never felt any kind of romantic or sexual feelings towards him, and you knew that he hadn’t either. As you and Jung Jung landed every move right on beat, you felt that familiar rush course through your veins, and you had to suppress a smile.
In the audience, Youngmin wasn’t smiling, far from it; narrowed eyes trained on the incredibly close couple onstage, fingernails digging into his palms as he clenched his hands. An unfamiliar feeling bubbled up inside him that made him want to storm onstage and throw the stupid lanky dancer into a wall—jealousy. Youngmin breathed deeply in through his nose, practically hearing his step-mother’s voice in his head—‘don’t overreact’.
Onstage, Jung Jung wrapped his hands around your waist, drawing you close to him, foreheads touching, close enough to kiss.
Youngmin’s growled and shot up from his seat, stalking out of the venue into the cold night air to cool off.
I only call you when it’s half past five
The only time that I’ll be by your side
I only love it when you touch me, not feel me
When I’m fucked up, that’s the real me
“(y/n), nice job tonight!”
“Yeah, really (y/n), you killed it!”
“Ah, thank you,” you bowed quickly, cheeks flushing as you hurried to where Youngmin stood, since he was your ride home. “Ready?” You asked cheerfully, going to stand next to him.
Youngmin looked down at you, a strange look on his face.
“Youngmin?” Your forehead wrinkled in confusion, “you okay?”
“What the hell was that?” he ground out, folding his arms.
“What the hell do you mean?” you shot back, a wave of déjà vu washing over you. It felt like the first time the two of you had talked, the way that he peered down his nose at you, eyes flashing angrily. It made you want to punch his lights out.
“That dancing,” he folded his arms as well, eyes growing even angrier. It was late, and the two of you were the only ones in that corridor, so his voice ricocheted off of the walls, amplified.
“Yeah, I was dancing,” you glared up at him, “what the hell’s your problem?”
“My problem is that it’s out of line to dance that sexually with another guy,” Youngmin shouted, cheeks growing red in anger.
You took a step back, rage filling your body, “Im Youngmin, who the fuck do you think you are?” You snapped, “What gives you the right to say something like that—you’re not even my fucking boyfriend, you don’t have the right to get jealous!”
“Well, maybe I was jealous, okay?” Youngmin ran a finger through his hair, eyes never leaving yours, “Okay, you know what, maybe even though I’m not your real fucking boyfriend and this whole fucking thing was fake, maybe I was jealous, okay? And maybe, maybe I don’t want this whole fucking thing to be fake, but you’re right, what gives me the right to say something like that.”
Youngmin stood there, panting from his little tirade, hair a mess from the number of times he’d run his hands through his hair. You gaped at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed at his words, and his eyes remained on yours, intense and heavy.
“Whatever,” he groaned, breaking the eye contact, “I’ll call you a cab, just wait out in front and don’t do anything stupid.” With that, he turned on his hell and stalked off, leaving you to just gape after him, still processing what the hell had just happened.
As you laid in bed that night, you kept tossing and turning, Youngmin’s words ringing in your ears.
Maybe I don’t want this whole thing to be fake.
Did Youngmin really want to date you? And even further, did you want to date him?
No way, you thought crossly to yourself, rolling over onto your side. After all, you hated the guy.
You sighed, turning onto your stomach. You couldn’t deny the fact that Youngmin’s small smiles and jokes made your heart flutter. You liked Youngmin, and that fact wasn’t going to change no matter how much you rolled over in bed.
the end is near my friends ;)
