When the campus heartthrob Jeon Jungkook who's actually a secret, self-professed romantic at heart, and the innocent country girl Kim Y/N, who's actually not as timid and docile as she seems, end up sharing a dorm for the semester, both discover tha...
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"SO? WHO'S THE guy?" My mother finally asked the question I'd been dreading for the last four hours, her candid gaze shifting towards Jungkook who was currently engaged in taking the order from a table of fifteen or so high school girls, who, much to my indignation, didn't seem like they were going to be done ordering their food anytime soon if that only meant having him stand there, attending to them with his signature charming grin.
Ignoring the way his smile made my heart clench and flutter at the same time, I continued chopping the carrots into the thinnest possible juliennes, contemplating whether or not to tell eomma the truth.
Despite not having dated much in her time, with my father being her first and only love, my mother wasn't exactly oblivious to the modern day love and romance. Whether or not I told her who Jungkook was, or what he was slowly becoming for me, sooner or later, she was going to find out herself.
And I realised that I much preferred for her to slowly discover things for herself, observing us from her own independent perspective as this thing between Jungkook and I progressed further, rather than me outrightly telling her what I felt and possibly risking her immediate disapproval because of the fact that we were already living together despite not having 'defined the relationship' yet.
"He's a, uh... a friend." I mumbled, not looking up from the chopping board, partly because I felt slightly bad for lying to her face—my feelings towards Jungkook had never been friendly; I hated him when I first met him and I loved him now, but I'd never once truly thought of him as a friend—and partly because I didn't accidentally want to chop my fingers off.
"Really?" My mother stole a glance at me even as her hands stayed busy pouring ladlefuls of sauce over bowls of freshly made noodles. "He doesn't look like a friend."
The nonchalant dismissal in her voice telling me that she didn't believe my words even for one second, made my hands pause as I bit my lip. Was it really that obvious or were moms just blessed with amazing lie-detecting superpowers?
"What does he look like then?" I questioned softly, suddenly thankful to the group of girls for holding onto Jungkook so he wasn't the one who came to the counter to pick up the bowls that were now ready to be served. Judging from my mother's dubious expression, she didn't look too elated about whatever she was about to say next and the last thing I wanted was for him to hear our conversation.
"Look, Y/N, he seems like a nice boy." She started, stepping back from the shelf now that we were done with nearly all the orders for lunch.
"Don't think I haven't noticed him running around and helping with all that work for the last four hours without complaining even once, because I have. He's hardworking and he's handsome, almost extraordinarily so," She smiled softly. "And I know how hard it is to come by men like that these days—"
"But what?" I found myself asking before she could finish, my anxiety growing. "You don't like him?"
My mother chuckled. "I knew he wasn't just a friend." She mused, eyeing me keenly before continuing. "And to answer your question, I do like him." She said. "But four hours isn't nearly enough time to really judge someone's character and as a mother, I want to make sure that the boy really does like you and isn't just doing all of this only to get what he wants now and later, break your heart." She stated matter-of-factly as I nodded in understanding.
