𝗥𝗲𝗱 | JJk ✔️

31| Pub Talk

Under the firelight street lamps above, Y/N's face glows a tinge of marigolds.

She rode my favorite motorbike. Nearly destroyed it. And now she's grinning at my lips like she wants to kiss me.

Clearly, she's waiting for my approval I very much don't give her. I anchor my eyes away. A fish who would not be caught.

But moments later, my eyes find her again, gaze slipping down to her lips, the way they part when she breathes in. I imagined, indelicately, my hands roving up to grab the nape of her neck before pulling her face into a kiss.

Whenever it's just the two of us, I find myself drawn to thoughts of pushing boundaries with her—leading her into the depths of sensation--touching her, kissing her, caressing every inch of her skin under that damn red dress.

I stare at Y/N quietly. At her curly black hair that's glazed red from the lights above us. The way her chest rises and falls each time she inhales. At the smooth curve of her breasts that I mentally touched and caressed. Fucking hell, dude. Get a grip.

Indeed, today is a very hot day. The heat is getting to me, I convince myself.

Clearing my throat, I stand abruptly. "Don't look at me like that," I demand, almost acusingly. "I know I'm hot but you seriously need to stop."

I'm surprised at how gruff my tone comes out. Y/N's face turns warm. A subtleness of a tease I hope she realizes is much more of a threat.

There's no way she can like me. Not if she knows me.

 "I need to stop?" She asks with a glare, sitting up on the ground. "Have you seen the look on your face after I pole danced? You had a fucking boner, Jungkook"

Fuck.

The heat creeps against my face and I scoff. "And what if I did?"

Y/N's full lips part in response, but before she replies, I stretch out my hand for her. "Get up. I'm not wasting time trying to justify a basic anatomy dysifunciton."

She gawks at me in utter disbelief--and also with a look that showed she wants to kill me.

Then a second of disappointment flashes across her face. She stands without my help. "Why are you always pushing me away?"

I tense, looking away. "Because it's the right thing to do." She swallows before looking away.

"Okay," she mumbles softly, and my heart plummets when I watched the hurt melt on her face like ice. 

She turns to me, forcing a smile. "Where do we go now?"

My gaze lands on the big red cut on her neck then on the purple bruise on her inner thigh that the slit on her dress failed to conceal.

My body feels heavy with guilt. 

This is the exact reason why I'm pushing her away.

All her injuries--everything that hurt her was because of me. No matter her stubbornness to meddle in my business, I'm accountable for her injures.

I almost, almost reach a comforting hand out for her but then catch myself, looking away and finding my fallen motorbike. I walk towards it, bringing the vehicle upright before shoving it in the bushes so the nameplate is hindered.

When I turn to Y/N, she's ogling at the menu of a pub place nearby, her lips parted like a hungry dog. We're both starving. A little lag isn't going to bite.

"I think we both could use some alcohol right now. Unless-" I turn to look at her. "How old are you?"

I never thought of her age before now. I considered she was old enough, but I never realized that I could have been wrong.