I Think I Love You •Chaennie•

Chapter 3

Jennie's POV

When I picked the library across from the coffee shop as our meeting space, I didn't realize how much I would want to shout for the entire meeting. We're only ten minutes into the meeting, and my blood is boiling.

"There's nothing wrong with a rom-com," I say heatedly, for what feels like the billionth time. I keep my voice low, since we're at a crowded row of tables between the dimly lit stacks. The guy sitting next to me has already shot me several dirty looks.

"I'm not saying there is," Rosé huffs, even though that sure sounds like what she's saying. "I was thinking that it would be cool if, instead of a rom-com, we do something a bit more dramatic. If we push the boundaries of our subject matter a little more, we could really-"

"We're doing a gay rom-com," I say, folding my arms across my chest. "That's non-negotiable."

"Who died and put you in charge?" Rosé mutters.

I ga(y)pe at her. Where is this coming from?

"No one had to die. I'm the one who found out about the contest. This whole thing was my idea."

"Well, I'm the one who spent a year hanging out in the birthplace of cinema." She tugs at the bottom of her blouse. "A good leader knows how to use her assets, Madame La Directrice."

I bite the tip of my tongue, hard, to keep myself from rolling my eyes.

"Maybe we can compromise," Jisoo says quickly. "Did you learn any French when you were away?"

"Où sont les toilettes?" Rosé says, her accent so prim and proper that it makes me want to rip her tongue out of her mouth.

"Where's the bathroom?" The corners of my lips rise as seventh-grade foreign-language class comes back to me. "Classy."

Rosé glances down at me. "Tu me fais chier."

"What does that mean?" Jisoo asks, a strain winding through her tone despite her obvious efforts to keep it light.

"Literally, 'You make me shit,' " Rosé mumbles.

Jisoo's face freezes in shock, but I'm struggling not to laugh. Rosé is the enemy here, I remind myself. She's trying to take away my rom-com.

Still, she's kind of funny.

"It means 'You annoy me.' Whoever came up with it must've known you," she adds, meeting my eye.

A high-pitched giggle seeps into my voice despite my best efforts to squash it. "I think you're confusing me with Activia."

Lisa sighs. "I don't think we're getting anything done here."

"And the librarian is about twelve seconds away from shushing us again," Jisoo adds, glancing over her shoulder in her constant fear of getting in trouble.

"Why don't we each take some time apart to come up with more fleshed-out ideas?" I say. "Then we meet up and decide as a group. It's a team effort."

This is the perfect plan. There's no way Rosé will be able to come up with a plot. All her "ideas" so far are just words masked with French superiority and the insistence that "that's what does well at festivals."

I have ideas already. Ones I'm passionate about. That's what does well at festivals.

Now I just have to convince the rest of the group.

___________________________________________

I glare at Lisa and Jisoo, my arms folded across my chest. They have the audacity to sit there, perched on the end of my bed, chatting about the day as if my life hasn't been utterly ruined.