I Think I Love You •Chaennie•

Chapter 17

Jennie's POV

Waiting to meet Jisoo late Monday morning, I'm bursting to tell her about Rosé. I can't, because Rosé and I agreed to keep it a secret, but I still feel like I'm walking on air the whole time I spend getting ready this morning.

My first kiss finally happened.

Yes, it was with the devil, but you know what? The devil is pretty cute, and she's a hell of a good kisser.

In exchange for the use of their multipurpose room as a shooting space, I agreed to help out at the teen center this afternoon. I'm pretty excited. Sitting at reception all day sounds way more fun than working retail. But when Jisoo finally meets me, five minutes late even though she's the most punctual person I know, her face wipes out all my happiness. Her eyes are clouded over with anxiety, and her lips are pressed into the tightest line I've ever seen them form.

She spends the whole subway ride staring at her reflection in the dark train window and ignoring my questions, which means that I spend the afternoon sick with worry about her. She's accompanying one of the day-camp counselors on a field trip to a local Y pool with a gang of preteens, so I take her spinny chair at reception. I spend the morning staring into space, kicking myself off one side of the desk so I can roll to the other.

Jisoo is the bubbliest person I know. If she has retreated into herself like this, something awful must have happened. I can't get the anxious look in Jisoo's eyes out of my head, and the numbing repetition of "Good afternoon. This is the Park Slope Teen Center. How may I help you?" doesn't provide nearly as much distraction as I thought it would.

By the time the preteens return, smelling like chlorine, with water dripping from their hair down the backs of their blue PSTC T-shirts, I'm ready to jump out of my skin with stress.

It only gets worse when I see Jisoo. Her shoulders are crumpled inward, and her face, usually exuberant, is pinched and pale. I throw myself out of my chair and rush to her side, even though Jisoo gave me warnings about leaving the phone, warnings that made The Devil Wears Prada feel like kindergarten.

"Jisoo," I say, folding my arms around her shoulders as soon as I reach her. "What's wrong?"

She shrugs away from me, which she never does, her eyes downcast. "I don't know. I haven't eaten today. I should probably do that. I'm sure I'm making a big deal about nothing."

"Well, yeah, please don't faint." I guide her to the reception chair so she can sit. "What's the nothing you're making a big deal of, then?"

Jisoo glances over the desk at the preteens. Their guidance counselor, a college kid, has them under control. Fiddling with her earring, she digs into her backpack with her other hand for her phone. Silently she unlocks it and passes it to me. I stare at the screen, which blinks brightly with a text chain.

TAE: We need to talk.

JISOO: What's up?

JISOO: Tae?

JISOO: Is everything okay?

JISOO: Did I do something wrong?

JISOO: Tae???

I slide the texts over to see the time stamps. Tae texted her hours ago, and ignored all of Jisoo's responses. I hand back the phone, steadying the sudden shake in my fingers so she doesn't see my worry. I ache to soothe the worry boiling in her eyes, but I have no calming interpretations of these texts. Other than that Tae is clearly being a douche nozzle.

And I set her up with him. I all but forced them together, and now he's responsible for the tightness in her eyes.

"I'm sure he got busy," I say. "You obviously didn't do anything wrong, and-"