Training (Jenlisa Adaptation)

Jennie

On saturday night, I forget completely about my dinner plans with Ye-jun until an hour before I have to leave. I don't want to go. At all. I want to stay in bed and lick my wounds and eat ice cream. I try calling to cancel, but his phone is switched off, and I'm not a big enough dick to stand him up. So I force myself to get up and ready, arriving at Da Mario's at 8PM sharp. I huddle by the front door to wait for him.

I don't feel good. I haven't seen Lisa in almost a week, which is pretty impressive, since we literally live in the same house. She's been leaving for practice before dawn, and assumedly staying in some other girl's bed. The thought makes me slightly nauseous.

I don't know what I've done wrong. One minute, she's sending me kisses and love hearts and telling me how much she misses me; the next, she's freezing me out. At first it made me sad, but now, I'm mostly angry. I get that I made her uncomfortable; but how can you go from fucking someone, cuddling with them, texting them every day, to completely ignoring their existence? It doesn't seem fair. She's supposed to be my best friend. At the very least, she should've told me what I've done wrong. She hasn't even given me a chance to fix it. Her words rattle around my head, turning my stomach. I still have fucking standards.

Rain starts to spit down on my head, and I shiver and check my phone. Ye-jun's fifteen minutes late. I think about just leaving, but I'm starving, and the savoury smell of cheese and dough is floating enticingly through the open restaurant door, making my mouth water. I decide to head inside to my table and order. If he doesn't show, at least I'll have had a good meal.

I'm halfway through my Cesar salad when the door opens again. I glance up, and my heart sputters when I see Lisa step inside, surrounded by a flock of other hockey girls. She's dressed for a night out, in a stretchy black dress that clings to her arse and brings out the muscle in her thighs. I watch as the whole group slides into the booth right next to my table. This has to be some kind of cruel joke.

As if she can feel my eyes on her, Lisa glances up, and everything just... fades. Dissolves. Like we're in a movie scene, and someone just softened the camera focus. Her eyes slide over my face, then down my front, taking in my tight dress, trailing over my exposed collarbone. A hot, heavy thrum starts up inside me, and for the first time in days, I forget how shitty I feel. I open my mouth, about to—I don't know, to say hello, or call her over, or something, but I'm interrupted when a chair scrapes out opposite me. I look up to see Ye-jun in a faded band shirt, his wet hair dripping from the rain. "Sorry I'm late, Jen," he says loudly, hanging his jacket on the chairback. "I was napping, forgot to set an alarm." He glances at my chest and whistles. "Liking the dress. Thanks for making an effort, babe. Wish you'd waited for me to order, though."

I force myself to smile at him. "Sorry, I was starving." Out of the corner of my eye, I see the colour drain out of Lisa's face. She stands and picks up her bag, turning to go. Her hockey captain collars her by the back of her dress and shoves her back down into the booth, looking immensely unimpressed. They start an urgent-looking, hushed conversation.

Under the table, the tip of Ye-jun's shoe grazes the inside of my calf. I look up at him. "This isn't a date," I warn. "You know that, right?"

He puts his hands up. "Whatever you wanna call it, babe. Just want to catch up. And apologise." He turns around, looking over his shoulder. "Jesus, how long does it take to get a waitress around here?"

The meal doesn't actually go too horrifically, although that might be because I can barely hear anything coming out of Ye-jun's mouth. It's funny. I've dreamt of this moment for years. Years, wishing he'd just call me and say sorry. And now that it's happening, I can't even focus on him. All of my attention is on Lisa. I watch in my periphery as she picks at a ramekin of pasta, barely eating anything. She looks completely miserable.