Jennie
Taehyung is close suddenly, very close, with his lips only inches away from mine. Startled, I jump back. I upset my coffee mug, and it jumps out of the saucer, spilling out on the table.
Taehyung gets to his feet quickly. God help anyone, if his slacks get coffee stains on them, he's definitely going to throw a hissy fit about it. I try to clean it up, and he grabs a handful of napkins, shoving them at me.
"Do you need any help?" he asks, only after I've cleaned most of it up.
"No, I've got it." I mop any residual coffee and toss the soiled napkins in the trash can.
"Maybe you should think about this." Taehyung says as he lingers near me. "I've booked a hotel room. You can come over tonight, and we can talk..."
"No." I say abruptly. "There's nothing to discuss." I sigh and rake my fingers through my frizzy hair. "Look... I've got a wedding tomorrow morning that I need to prepare for."
His eyebrows knit. "Yours?"
"No! Not mine... a wedding that I'm planning. It's not important. It's over. You and me." I gesture between the two of us. "I don't love you. And maybe you're right, maybe I never did... maybe I just liked the idea of being married. And that's on me. But I'll never be someone's second choice or plan B. So..." I extend a hand. "Good luck on your singing and acting career. Or whatever it is, that you do."
He looks at my hand and looks utterly confused, as though it's a foreign object. Finally, he smiles, as though this is all hilarious, and takes my hand and gives it a shake. "Good luck on your wedding. I'd love to see you in action. I'm sure as soon as the wedding march begins, you'll come running back to me again. I don't even know why you are fighting this, Jennie."
I pull my hand back and dust the feeling of his palm off on the side of my pants. "Think whatever you want, Taehyung. Now. You have my phone."
"Oh, right." Taehyung retrieves my phone from his back pocket and holds it out for me to take. "Take care of yourself, Jennie. I'll see you soon." he adds.
"No, I don't think so. And yes, I am taking care of myself by walking away from you." I tell him.
I turn and I walk away. I don't look back, not even once I've pushed through the café doors and stepped outside. Admittedly, there is something satisfying about walking away from him for good.
Still, the conversation weighs on me. Maybe I should feel lighter, like a weight is lifted off my chest, but instead I feel like my feet are made of lead. I can only walk a couple of feet before I feel like I have to sit down. There's a white painted bench outside of the restaurant where everyone is still brunching, and I plop down on it.
I can't tell if I want to cry, laugh, or scream. So I just stare at the pavement for a second and wait to see what comes out first.
As I'm sitting there, a shadow comes over me. "Room for one more?"
I glance up and I see Bambam standing there, with his signature cowboy hat crooked on his head. I draw a light smile at the familiar face. "Yeah... of course."
I scoot over and make room for him to sit down.
