shortcake | liskook

6

I don’t ask myself why I’m putting on mascara, a dust of bronzer, and Glossier lip gloss. I don’t question why I’m wearing my good-butt jeans and a white boyfriend T-shirt, that in the right light is sheer enough to show a little skin. 

I pull my hair out of the topknot, praying for volume instead of dreads. 

Volume it is. 

Again, I don’t question why that matters. 

My phone chimes with a text. 

I run my fingers through my hair, grabbing my phone and Mr. Park’s new debit card from the counter, sparing my phone a glance as I head out of the bathroom, tucking the card into my back pocket. 

I stop when I see it’s from Jungkook. It takes a moment to register. I haven’t received a text from anyone other than Dowan in a long time. 

Jungkook: Move it. 

Seriously, what a dick. 

Knowing he must have sent himself a message from my phone sends a jolt of adrenaline through my veins as I text him back. 

Me: Aww… so sweet that you miss me! XO 

I hit send. And wait for a few seconds, but no reply. Good. 

I take my time slipping on my Toms and walk into the living room, ignoring the knots (or are they butterflies?) in my stomach. 

My steps falter as Jungkook walks from the kitchen, his head bent to his phone. He’s wearing the same ratty T-shirt from earlier with a pair of equally worn jeans and scuffed motorcycle boots. 

I get that he’s sexy—if you like dark, brooding, possible serial killers, which apparently is my new thing—but I’ve been around hot men before, even married one. So, what the hell is up with this Gollum-Lord of the Rings reaction to him? 

He looks up from his phone, quickly takes me in, his cold eyes and stoic expression giving nothing away. Suddenly my jeans don’t fit quite as well, my long hair feels like a frizz bomb of waves and curls, and my lips are sticky with too much gloss. 

“Ready?” he asks distractedly, his eyes back on his phone. 

“No, I’m standing here just for the fun of it,” I snap back, a bit too snottily. 

He looks up again, his eyes meeting mine, and exhales, shaking his head as he walks toward the front door. I follow, definitely not noticing the way his ass moves in his jeans or the faded outline of where his wallet is, which I find strangely sexy. 

Me neeeeds my precious… 

What the hell is wrong with me? 

My stomach jolts as the answer races through my veins. It’s so obvious I feel ridiculous for not seeing it: I haven’t been with a man since Jaewon. I haven’t been in this proximity to any age-appropriate, non-denture-wearing men in what feels like forever. Besides Dowan, but he doesn’t count. 

It only makes sense that I would lust after the only guy I’ve been around who’s under eighty and not family. The realization that my Gollum reaction has nothing to do with Jungkook being irresistible man-candy, and everything to do with me just being horny, brings a genuine smile to my face. 

I feel twenty pounds lighter as he holds open the door for me. His eyes narrow in on my bright smile. That’s right, buddy, turns out it’s not you, it’s me. I grab my purse, slipping my phone inside, taking my time to walk out the door. 

“Thanks, honeybuns,” I chirp, stepping onto the porch, breathing in the fresh air while listening to the birds singing me a song. They might even get together with the neighborhood mice and make me a dress later, who knows.