shortcake | liskook

16

Things I’d rather do than go out to lunch with Jungkook and the Wedding Brigade. 

Vacuum a room full of hidden pennies. 

Stub my toe on a freezing morning. 

Eat a handful of peanuts while chewing gum. 

But here I am, squished next to Jungkook in a booth meant for four because Mrs. Go insisted on sitting away from the non-existent draft and next to a window with a view of Main Street. 

I set down my menu without really looking at it, and take a sip of my Sprite, distracted by the whirlwind of the last few hours. 

Hours spent nodding and smiling like one of the Walking Dead as Mrs. Sung decided Jungkook and I are tying the knot in the backyard—if you can call ten acres a yard—of the farmhouse at dusk. Because, according to Mrs. Sung, outdoor weddings are more romantic at sunset. 

I zombie-smiled while when we strolled through Perfect Petals flower shop where Mrs. Hong decided on white gardenias (pure love), white and green hydrangeas (enduring beauty), and calla lilies (faithfulness). Apparently, it’s a winning flower combination for a long-lasting happy marriage. Guaranteed. 

I even kept my zombie-smile intact while Jungkook spent the entire time leaning against the back wall with his eyes glued to his phone like he was waiting for the train downtown, and not shopping for a fake wedding. 

The only time he wasn’t looking at his phone was when he was paying. Which he did without batting an eye. Which made everything worse. 

I’ve never felt like more of a fraud in my life. 

The only silver lining, if you could call it that, was the fact nobody asked about my family. Nobody asked who would walk me down the aisle. Who would give me away. Where the Mother of the Bride would sit. 

I guess I can thank Mrs. Go for that one. She grilled me about my life the first time we met. I thought it was because she was protective of halmeoni. Nope. She’s just nosy. 

I told her that my mother had passed and that my dad…Well, I didn’t tell her the truth about that one. She thinks he passed too. Halmeoni believed the same. I hated lying, but this is one truth that I hated more. One truth I never share. 

Under the table, Jungkook’s thigh bumps against mine. It’s not on purpose. He hasn’t touched me since the hanky-panky-coffee kitchen incident. Not that I’m complaining. 

He also hasn’t so much as looked my way. Not that I’m complaining about that either. 

If he keeps icing me out, I won’t have to confess a damn thing to the Wedding Brigade. They’ll figure out on their own that Jungkook and I are full of shit, and this wedding is a complete sham. 

I return Mrs. Hong’s smile from across the table and turn my gaze out the window, ignoring the warmth radiating from Jungkook’s body, as I listen to Mrs. Sung and Mrs. Lee try to figure out what to split for lunch. It’s between a bibimbap or a soondubu jjigae. 

My votes on the soondubu jjigae. 

Releasing a heavy sigh, I watch people strolling down the sidewalk in their sensible shoes. I always seem to forget these boots double as a medieval torture device until about an hour into wearing them. No amount of cuteness nor perfectly tapered heel is worth this amount of pain. None. 

“Are you all ready to order, or do you need more time?” 

I turn to the young server standing at our table. She looks like a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed cheerleader, probably working her way through college. I feel a sort of kinship with her, having done the same. Let’s hope she’s better at her job than I was. When her eyes reach mine, I push a little extra warmth into my smile.