This. Sucks.
Tonight was supposed to be a fun girls' night out with her best friend, but Irene too heartbroken to enjoy this awesome party. Which really blows, since it's being thrown for her mopey ass.
Okay, so technically it's for like seventeen other girls too, but whatever. Irene's still one of tonight's stars and she should fucking own that shit. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
If Jennie had the balls to get in that ring and beat up some girl, she totally would. But she's a pussy and the odds of her actually winning a fight are slim to no chance in hell.
Plus, her parents would shit a brick if they found out, and-let's be honest-they absolutely would when she came home looking like she got mugged.
"What about her?" Jennie point to a tall redhead walking by. "Could you take her?"
Irene laughs. "I don't know. Maybe?"
"C'mon." Jennie nudge Irene with her shoulder. "You're supposed to be this badass fighter now. Act like one. Go over there and punch her in the tit."
Jennie trying her best to cheer Irene up, but she don't have any profound words to offer. Humor's the best she got.
Well, that and the open bar.
They've been knocking back drinks like they're water. It's only seemed to make Irene sadder and more withdrawn. All it's done for Jennie is warm her chest and make her zero in on all the eye-candy at the party, but that's not what tonight is about.
Tonight it's chicks before dicks, and if homegirl here wants to get shitfaced and sulk over some jackass, then it's her sisterly duty to commiserate over fruity cocktails.
Sighing, Jennie stand from the bench they've been parked on all night. "You want another one?"
Irene nods before dejectedly watching everyone else have a good time.
Jennie scowl and start towards the bar.
That is such a waste of a killer dress and a night off. Normally Jennie waitressing those shindigs instead of attending them, so she's not really free to enjoy herself.
Don't get her wrong, it's not a bad gig and it pays ridiculously well, but come on.. The parties are overflowing with decadence and debauchery. Between the occasional celeb, the open bar, and the roster of fit fighters they rotate through these soirees, it's basically Disneyland for adults.
And on the one night Jennie actually allowed to ride Space Mountain instead of working the turkey leg cart, she's stuck with Debbie Downer back there.
If Jennie ever see Seulgi again, she's nut-punching her for ruining tonight—not just for herself, but for Irene. Her friend worked so hard for this, and now she's too torn up to enjoy it because of that asshat.
Jennie want to be mad at her friend for it. Jennie want to ask Irene what the hell she was thinking when she got involved with her boss, especially considering that Seulgi's her roommate too.
That seems like a recipe for disaster and-shocker! —it all blew up in her face.
Jennie can't completely fault Irene for it, though. She's only human, and Seulgi's hotness is near mythical levels. Them mere mortals don't stand a chance.
Still... You don't shit where you eat, and the same rule applies to jobs and roommates—you should never, ever fuck someone you live or work with.
That's like Life 101.
By the time Jennie have their drinks, she see Irene talking with a cute guy and she perk up a little. Jennie seriously doubt Irene's going to marry him, but hey, maybe a little rebound would do her good. There are other fish in the—
