Hot Streak // (BTS Jikook)

Five

"You're coming and that's final!"

Before I could come up with a half-believable excuse for not being able to make it, Namjoon had already hung up.

I let out a long breathy sigh, tossed the phone to the bed, then grabbed the nearest pillow I could find and buried my face in it, the pillow muffling my groans.

It was a Friday, and I was no doubt alone in my dorm wearing an oversized baseball t-shirt my dad gave me, there was an empty pizza box on my nightstand, and my laptop was burning hot from being on for almost three days straight.

I lifted my head from the pillow and hung my head low, realizing now just how pathetic I probably looked. There were a few crumbs scattered around on my lap and my hair was a greasy mess.

The last real time I left my dorm was when I went for lunch with Namjoon, but that was almost three days ago. I had gone into full blown Jungkook-hermit-mode, and even Namjoon was beginning to worry.

'You're never going to meet a guy if you don't leave your dorm.'

'The graphics outside are much better than the ones online.'

He was always buggin' me about my hermit phases. I couldn't help it, though, I just enjoyed being alone.

And I was successful in blowing him off for the last two nights, except tonight he was taking no more excuses.

He had a master plan to hook up with the blonde waitress from the diner. She had apparently told him about a party she was going to tonight, and he was apparently invited along too.

Except he didn't want to go alone, and even though I suggested that he take one of his other thousand friends with him, he insisted it was me – and only me.

Great.

That meant that once again I was the Robin to Batman, or Bat-joon. He would most likely hunt this girl down once we got there, leaving me to fend for myself.

The thoughts made my social anxiety flare up, I felt my palms get clammy and my spine tingle.

On the plus side though, Namjoon wasn't going to be here for predrinks for another few hours, giving me at least a window of opportunity to not only clean my Netflix cave a little, but also make myself look at least semi-human.

I rose from the bed and dusted myself off, throwing a pair of sweats on and covering myself up with a large grey hooded sweatshirt.

I exited my dorm and skipped the stairs two-by-two down to the common area. It was empty, a typical sight for a Friday afternoon. Everyone was out either partying already, or in their dorms preparing to go party.

I walked through the metal automatic doors and headed for walk around the block. The fresh air was so nice; everything had a new crisp scent, it was all much nicer since I could barely remember the last time I went outside just because.

Half an hour into my walk, as I passed a large pine tree, I remembered something Jimin had told me the other day we were texting:

"Kookie, you're the easiest person in the world to talk to. I swear if I was back in town I'd take you for a beer and tell you my entire life story; I'm sure you'd listen and not judge me for one second."

And he was right, I wouldn't. Because to be perfectly honest, the thought of being able to talk to Jimin – even if it was only through text messages – was enough to give me something to look forward to each day, and was probably a the underlying reason why I was agreeing to go to this party tonight too.