shortcake | liskook

24

How long have I been staring at the chipped white paint on the side door of the garage, with pizza and a six-pack of Guinness in hand? Long enough to hear AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” in its entirety through the walls. Long enough to get bitten by a mosquito, who just flew off to tell his malaria friends to come and grab a drink at Lisa’s Place. Long enough to google how long should you wait when trying to give someone space. 

It’s been almost four hours since Lee Ji Ah left and Jungkook retreated to the garage. I did laundry. Signed papers for Mr. Park. Took a shower. Got dressed to meet Dowan for dinner. Texted Dowan that I couldn’t make it. Changed into my comfy PJs. Sat on the floor and stared at my wedding dress, listening to “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran while stuffing my face with gummy bears, trying to fill the emptiness in my gut. 

Then I remembered that pizza is the perfect empty-gut filler, so I ordered one, and here I am wondering if it’s weird to knock on a garage door. Or if it’s rude to just walk in. 

Fuck it. 

Balancing the pizza and beer, I turn the knob and step inside, quietly shutting the door behind me, not that Jungkook could hear me over the blasting music. 

It smells like old wood, grease, and rusted metal with a hint of Jungkook. 

My gaze drops to see Jungkook’s jean-covered legs sticking out from under the Bronco, his phone and tools scattered on a towel by his side. Behind him, motorcycles are lined up perfectly in front of the wood garage doors. The butterflies in my stomach turn to lead and drop like bombs. This was a bad idea. 

I’m invading his personal space. 

I should’ve just texted him that there’s pizza if he’s hungry. I should’ve let him come to me when he’s ready. 

I’m pretty sure getting caught sneaking out with pizza and beer is way worse than sneaking in, so I quickly scan the garage, which looks ginormous without all the clutter, searching for a place to put down the pizza and make my orthopedic-slipper getaway. 

I spot a long metal table covered with car or motorcycle parts that seems to be laid out in a particular order. Yeah, no surprise there. Jungkook is particular about a lot of things, including, as it turns out, how his towels are folded. Which I found out when I walked in on him refolding the towels I’d put away. 

The smile he gave me when our eyes met is number three on my list of favorite things. 

My breath catches, and my heart swells in my chest when I see the brown leather Comfy Couch from the den sitting in the corner. I don’t question how sad it is that I’m this happy to see a couch. I also don’t question why I’m walking to it like I’m greeting a loved one at the airport. 

Hello, old friend. 

I sink into its well-worn, buttery leather with the warm pizza on my lap and the cold beer pressed against my thigh. I close my eyes and feel my body relax as I breathe in the familiar smell. It’s the scent of a simpler time, and I love it. 

My eyes jump open when AC/DC’s Back in Black abruptly cuts off. I see Jungkook slipping his phone into his pocket, his eyes on me as he wipes his hand on a blue rag. 

I hold up the pizza just in case he couldn’t see the giant box sitting on my lap. “I thought you might be hungry.” 

“I’m starving.” His voice sounds rough and tired. “I was just going to see if you wanted to grab something.” 

“Well, here I am, and I come bearing good tidings and pizza.” I sound like a total asshole. Good tidings? What the fuck. 

He nods, tossing the greasy rag into an orange bucket of other dirty rags. I’d bet the winning lottery ticket the white bucket is full of clean rags. I can’t help but flash a smile.