Under Your Skin || Jungkook

1

My eyes have been exploring the place ever since I arrived, still looking for someone to hit on and put to practice everything I learned this evening before I pulled some strength and finally got here. 

I've walked past this pub way too many times. Always filled with fancy people sharing interesting conversations while drinking a glass of the most expensive combination of alcohol, and low jazz music playing in the background to set the mood. So when one of the tips said "Go to one comfortable place, and put all the skills i taught you to test" the place I had to choose was pretty clear for me.

Although it's been one hour and a half -or three Cosmopolitans-, I'm still in the exact same spot. And I'm doing the exact same thing since I got here. I'm supposed to be reaching out to different people, hit here and there, and try to get a phone number for once. But I haven't found the guts to do it. For some reason, all dudes in here seem so... inaccessible? Could be it's not exactly them, but the process of reaching out to them right now seems so intimidating, I just can't find myself doing it.

Almost all of them are the same, anyway. Expensive shirts, pleated beige pants and loafers -although maybe I saw one of them wearing a brilliant pair of derby shoes. It's no help. I'm not attracted to either of them and, even if I were, I'm sure we'd have nothing to talk about. Maybe I should've gone to the pub in the other side of the street, where they serve you the best beer while blowing your ears with the hardest metal.

And actually, I'm just five minutes away from leaving and head to that place. Even if I don't end up getting someone's attention, I'll still enjoy the rest of the night by jamming to some music -not caring of how I look or how loud I seem.

This just isn't my place. Or so I thought.  

My eyes feel captured by a pair of pitch black eyes staring at me from the distance. And one quick look at him makes me wonder how the hell I didn't see him before, among all these people? He's the only one standing out with that bad boy aura.

When he gets caught looking, he doesn't look away. He just doesn't care. So I decide I won't care either, before I look at him from head to toe. He is carelessly resting his full sleeve tattooed arm over the counter, his fingers holding his glass filled with liquid. His other hand is resting inside the front pocket of his black cargo pants, that fit into his legs way too fine. My eyes keep going back up through his black t-shirt and silver chains, hanging around his neck. The perfect fit.

He's been following the move of my eyes over his body with his doe eyes, but he's far from bothered by it. Actually, the way he looks at me and throws a sided smile kinda convinces me he likes to have my attention right now. 

But he still doesn't move from that place, and the heavy environment growing where I'm sitting right now forces me to look away. It almost felt like I needed a short break, to pull myself together, before I decide what's the next move to make.

What did the video say?

"Different words can make a sentence" Yeah. No shit, Sherlock. No, it wasn't that. Something along the lines "Let the other person know you're interested, but don't make it seem like you're too desperate". No, that was later in the video, for sure. I'm missing the part where the dude gave tips to get up and head to the person you want to flirt with. 

God, I can't even remember. My mind seems to only be able to think about that vicious smile, and that lip ring just making it even more tempting to head where he is and play with it shamelessly.

Focus, Y/N.

I shake my head again, giving a sip to my drink before I turn to that hot stranger... Ha, who's now busy talking to a breathtaking brunette. The girl twirls her hair on her finger, tilting her head and swaying her hips. She's doing exactly what I should've done the moment we kept the eye contact for so long. 

Kudos to her confidence, that encouraged her to go and talk to the only interesting man in the whole pub. Although, if I had her body, I'd probably have that vast amount of confidence as well. No, actually not.

I'm so immersed in my own thoughts, so deep in my mind and my own rant, I'm not aware my eyes are still on the couple flirting on the counter. And when I do realize, it's way too late. His eyes catch mine in the middle of his conversation, he's speaking to her, but looking at me with a malicious smile.

I move my eyes away from them way too late. And probably he thinks I'm a weirdo. Or maybe he doesn't mind me at all, which is the most possible since he already has something else to drive his attention to. 

I give my drink a long last sip before taking the glass and heading to the middle of the counter, just to leave the empty glass there. Time to go back home, and feel sorry for myself another night. 

—Have a good night —the bartender smiles when he notices me.

—You too —I give her a smile.

The relaxing jazz music from the pub is replaced by honks and loud crowds from the street. Well, welcome back to New York City, the city that never sleeps and that will never let you catch a break. Unless you need a cab to drive you back home when you most need it. In that case, take the longest break and brace patience. 

I cross my arms over my chest, trying to warm myself a bit when my body finally realizes I'm in the middle of the street, when it's 15 degrees, and I'm only wearing a thin short sleeved blouse and a pair of jeans. I should've known better. When I arrived, it was still hot, and what I'm wearing was still appropriate for the weather. Now? Now it's the best outfit to kill yourself of hypothermia.

I should've stayed in tonight. Fuck that video. Fuck the creator. And fuck me for thinking it would work, when the previous sixteen videos made no change whenever I tried to open up and break my comfort zone. Fuck my shyness and fuck that cab that's prolonging this shitty night.

My mental rambling gets interrupted by a voice on my back.

—Do you need a ride?

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